Hummingbird Lane by Brown, Carolyn (good books to read for beginners TXT) 📕

and slung her legs over the edge of her bed. Something horrible must have happened for Emma to give up on her artist dream. Hoping that Emma might be the one to answer the phone, Sophie had tried to call her one more time after Victoria’s outburst. That time she got a recording saying that the number was no longer in use or had been changed.

“Seems she can’t shake this depression she’s been in since she quit college,” Rebel said. “I thought you might want to go visit her before you leave to go down to south Texas. I loved that little girl and felt like we had deserted her. If Victoria’s not there, y’all might get to spend a little time together.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way.” Sophie opened her packed suitcase and threw in a few more items. “Victoria fired you. If anyone deserted her, I did. I gave up trying to get in touch with her when I should have marched up to that house and demanded that they let me talk to her.”

“Victoria would have never let that happen, and honey”—Rebel paused—“I would have said no if Emma had talked Victoria into paying your tuition back in the day so that you could have been tutored with her.”

“I had no idea that Emma tried that,” Sophie said.

“Me either, until Annie told me a few weeks ago. It was water under the bridge, so I didn’t mention it to you before now. Victoria was ranting about the fact that if Emma had never known you, she wouldn’t be in the shape she’s in now,” Rebel said.

Tears welled up in Sophie’s eyes. “What did I do that would put her in a mental institution?”

“Victoria says that Emma depended on you for everything and that when you deserted her, she was never the same,” Rebel answered. “We both know that’s a crock of bull crap. We were kicked out of Emma’s life. We damn sure didn’t leave her because we wanted to, but there’s no telling what Victoria told her.”

“Emma never mentioned anything like that when we met those few times that first semester of college, but, Mama, I’m glad I went to public school,” Sophie said. “I’m just sorry that Emma couldn’t have been there with me. The few times she called me after we couldn’t go to her house anymore, she told me that she hated not getting to go to school. I’ll go see her this morning and give you a call afterward.”

“Better let me call you this evening. You know how these rich folks are about their maids talking on their time.” Rebel laughed.

“Yes, ma’am, I surely do,” Sophie agreed. “Love you. Don’t work too hard.”

“Never happen,” Rebel said. “Love you, too.”

Sophie laid the phone on the end table and checked the time. Straight up twelve o’clock noon. She wasn’t one to work on a schedule. If she really got into painting, she might get up at dawn and work until noon. If she decided to paint a night scene, she might not go to bed until sunrise, which was the reason she had slept until noon that day.

As she got dressed, she did the simple math. If she spent thirty minutes with Emma, she could still be moving into her place near Big Bend National Park before dark. She loved that area and for the past several years had rented a little two-bedroom trailer in the Hummingbird Trailer Park, aptly named because it was located on Hummingbird Lane.

“I’m going to tell her that there’s no way I deserted her, no matter what Victoria says,” Sophie said as she closed her suitcase, threw a few more items into a tote bag that held her toiletries, and took one last look at the loft. Bed made. Dishes all done and put away. The last three pictures she had painted were covered with canvas. The rest of the past year’s work—all thirty paintings—had already been shipped to London. They would travel from there to Paris and then to Rome for her gallery tour. Her boyfriend, Teddy, was over in Europe now, taking care of all the details, but he would be home in a few weeks.

She locked the door behind her, picked up her bags, and carried them across the hall to the service elevator. The thing moaned and groaned so badly every time she got into it that she held her breath and hoped that it didn’t crash and burn with her. When it reached bottom, she went out through the back door of the old building to her SUV and loaded her things. She checked her collection of canvases of every size, brushes, paints, and equipment one more time before she closed the back hatch and got behind the wheel.

With noonday traffic, the twenty-minute drive from her place to the wellness center took over an hour. Now she wouldn’t arrive at the trailer park until suppertime, and that was if she didn’t stop for a snack in the middle of the afternoon. She parked in front of the fancy facility with its fancy sign and its perfectly manicured lawns and flower beds and wondered how much money Victoria had shelled out to get her daughter into the place. Before she got out of her vehicle, she sent Josh, the trailer park owner, a text asking him to turn on the air-conditioning in her place sometime around six that evening. Then she used the rearview mirror to reapply lipstick, shook her long blonde hair out of its ponytail, and took a deep breath before she swung the driver’s side door open.

“I shouldn’t have let so many years go by,” she muttered to herself as she walked across the parking lot and entered a place that didn’t look a helluva lot different than the house where Emma had grown up. Why was her childhood friend in a place like this?

Victoria would drive Jesus and the angels out of her house. This is probably a vacation for Emma. Sophie