Winning Charlotte Back. Kathy Douglass

you want to tell the movers where you want your stuff?”

      “As if Dad will let me. He said I could decide where I put my bed, but the next thing I knew, he was saying I couldn’t put it in the middle of the room. He made me put it against a wall.” His eyes flashed with anger and he frowned.

      “Did you really want it in the middle?”

      “Yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

      “Nope. If you put it against the wall, it’s easier to shove stuff under it when you have to clean your room.”

      He smiled. “I didn’t think of that. Where should I put the dresser?”

      “I don’t know. It depends on the layout of the room. You know, like where the door is and the windows and closet.”

      He rubbed his thumb over his nose. He hung his head a little although she couldn’t imagine why. “So there is a right place for things to be?”

      “Not necessarily. You can put your furniture the way you like it best. It’s just putting it in a certain place will make it more convenient for you.”

      “My mom always did things like that.”

      “Oh?”

      “She liked it. She liked buying pillows and lamps and stuff. And clothes. Dad used to tell her to stop spending money on so much useless junk, but she would just buy stuff and hide it. Then she would pretend she’d had it for a long time.”

      Charlotte wouldn’t touch that wearing a hazmat suit. “Okay. Well, the next time you talk to her you can ask her for advice.”

      His shoulders slumped so much he looked like a turtle going into his shell. “I don’t know how to talk to her. She left and never came back.”

      Oh, no. Poor kid. “When?”

      “A long time ago.” He sniffed. “She doesn’t want to be my mom anymore.”

      “Then she’s a fool. You’re a great kid.”

      He looked at Charlotte in surprise, then wiped his arm across his eyes. She saw the tears but knew better than to comment on them. She would hate having anyone witness her break down. As far as people knew, she was made of stone. Everyone knew stone didn’t cry.

      “How come you aren’t at work?”

      He’d shared his hurt. It was only fair that she do the same. “I used to work for my father’s company. I did everything he wanted. Not just at work, either. All the time. Last week, the day you moved to town, he gave the job I worked hard to get to someone else. So I quit.”

      “Wow. Did you yell and throw stuff?”

      She had to smile. “No. I just stood up and left the meeting.”

      “Why didn’t he give you the job? Is it because you’re a girl?”

      Was it? Maybe. But she had no control over that. “No. I think it’s because he doesn’t love me. Not really.”

      Bobby grabbed her hand with his grubby one. “Then he’s a fool, too.”

      Charlotte’s heart lifted as she looked at Bobby, his words helping her to see what she had a hard time believing. The problem wasn’t with her. She was lovable. If only to a ten-year-old boy.