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“She’s a fifty-seven year old woman living with her parents. No job. No vision. This isn’t the type of person who should be viable for a kiosk.”
My eyebrows tighten at his harsh assessment. “She’s been through a lot.”
“No, she’s made a lot of bad choices. There’s a difference.”
His callousness makes me want to smack him in the face. “Like I said, you don’t know the full story.”
“I know that you don’t end up here,” he points to the floor, “at fifty-seven by making good decisions.” His eyes meet mine. “And I know you wouldn’t even have met her if she hadn’t ended up in a women’s shelter. Which means, somewhere along the way, she made another stupid decision with someone she had no business making decisions with.”
Angry heat stirs in my gut. “Is it so easy for you to judge others?”
“I’m being objective.”
“You’re being heartless.”
“Fine.” He folds his arms over his chest. “You tell me what you see.”
I lean in close to whisper in his ear so I’m not overheard. “I see a woman who needs a purpose.”
Cody’s expression remains cold.
“Doesn’t it kind of make sense why she likes baking and experimenting with new recipes? I’d need an outlet to vent my stress too if I were living with…” I try to find a polite word and can’t so I finish lamely, “with strict parents.”
He tilts his head and purses his lips as if he’d never thought of that.
The sound of shuffling footsteps grab our attention.
Erica stands in the mouth of a small hallway. She’s wearing an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans. Her hair is scooped into a thin ponytail, making her look older than she is.
“What are you doing here?” She gives Cody suspicious eyes.
He watches her back frankly.
I clear my throat. “Is there somewhere we can talk?” I notice her mother peering at us through the curtains in the hallway and add, “Privately?”
She gestures to the backdoor. It’s just off a small, messy kitchen. There are dirty dishes piled up in the sink and baking racks occupying half of the counter space.
As we move behind Erica, I tap the back of Cody’s hand. “Donotspeak.”
“Why not?” he whispers. His lips brush my ear and it sends my heart-rate spiking. “I’m the one who’s supposed to bring her back.”
I shake my head tightly.
Given his opinion of Erica’s circumstances, Cody’s going to be harsh. I don’t trust him to fix this. He already tore her down at the foundation. We’re supposed to be getting her back, not hammering the nail in the coffin.
Cody flattens his lips. He obviously disagrees with my instruction, but I don’t care.
The screen door smacks behind us. We step into a small backyard enclosed by a chain-link fence. Sunshine dusts the overgrown grass and draws my eyes to the cheerful dandelions.
“You have a beautiful home,” I start.
Erica scoffs.
“How are you doing?” I speak kindly. “We were all worried about you.”
She says nothing.
My heart pinches, but I keep trying. “I called you yesterday—”