The Chocolate Beach Collection by Julie Carobini

Author:Julie Carobini
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Christian Fiction, Anthologies and collections, Contemporary Romance, Women's Fiction
Publisher: Julie Carobini
Published: 2015-06-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“Punitive damages?”

Bri often jokes about the way Doug can switch on that lawyerly voice of his when times warrant it. Funny stuff, until he starts to use it on me. “What’s that?”

“You’re being sued for intentional affliction of severe emotional distress.”

Livi’s in the shop with me when I hear the news, and my zombie-like stance causes her to frantically wave a hand in front of my face.

I snap out of it. “You are kidding me, Doug. Right?” The only one I inflict that kind of distress on is myself!

“I wish I were, Gaby. I wish I were.”

“Well ... well ... Doug, have you talked with my insurance people?”

Doug clears his throat. “I hate to tell you, but insurance won’t cover punitive damages—only negligence. And it seems they’re only suing on the former. Strange case.”

I’ll say. Doug proceeds to map out a plan of action—blah, blah, blah and yada, yada, yada—his carefully laid out words falling on me like so much vapid smoke. My conversation with Doug ends, and although Livi’s showing a house at three, she promised to help me out until then. Not that Florally Yours is suddenly overrun with customers, but even if it were, how could I pretend to care as I should? I’m being sued! By a nutso bride! And I didn’t even charge her full price!

Deep breath in. Start fresh.

“Anyhow, Gaby, so I thought today would be a great day for you to give the public your thoughts on ways to make their spring bouquets last longer.” Livi, God bless her, tries to keep me occupied, but she’s lost me. “Just write it out and I’ll post it for you, okay?”

I blink. “Did you say something?”

Her eyes watch me as she slides the laptop in my direction. “Do you want me to explain it again?” She talks to me as if I’m two.

And the answer is no, not really, but I cooperate anyway, because that’s the polite thing to do. It’s the right thing. Isn’t that right, Mama? Her voice fills my mind. Be responsible, Gabrielle! Stay quiet and nod, and you will have a good life.

Livi’s still talking, but I don’t hear her words clearly because there’s another conversation going on inside my head at the moment. And just how will staying quiet make my life better, mama?

Livi asks me again. “You okay, Gaby?”

I nod. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, but remember that I have a showing at three.”

“Yes, yes, I know.”

“Will you be back ... by then?”

I shrug. “Just lock up if I’m not.”

I swing my car onto Hwy 101 and follow its curves until the 126 east. Twenty five minutes later I pull off the road, onto a dry patch of hard dirt in an area hardly touched by progress. Outside the car, the air wears a perfume of citrus, and I walk past a row of orange trees toward the rectangular box that I once considered home. I never actually lived there—we weren’t homeless or anything—but I spent many hours within its splintered limbs.

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