Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories

7

Violet Jansen was beside herself. Avery had not come home for two nights. Granted, it was the weekend. And her granddaughter was a hardcore party princess.

Princess was not the word Violet would have chosen to describe such exploits, but now was not the time to nitpick such irrelevant details. She would have picked up the telephone and called Sheriff Doggins, but why bother the man over this with Avery's history.

Violet could only wonder why Avery loved to torment her so. After all, who had stepped up to take the child in when nobody else in the family would? Who had clothed and fed the orphan?

And at her age.

I deserve a medal, Violet often thought, not the trouble of raising ungrateful kids at my age.

Still blood was blood.

Violet was determined to do her duty, provide her only granddaughter with a house to come home to, and hold her head up high, despite anything that Avery did to soil Violet's impeccable reputation.

She might be her granddaughter's keeper, but thank God, Avery was almost eighteen. It had been a hellacious struggle, but there was light at the end of this tortuous tunnel.

If only I can hold out, the old lady thought. Just a few more months.

Then Avery could be kicked to the curb, and no one would bat an eye.

***

Violet dreamed of a long stay at a fantastic resort where nobody knew her and she could let her hair down, and for once in her vanilla bean existence, actually live.

A young, handsome, bronze, six-packed stallion would be so nice for a change.

And the best part, Violet thought, she could leave him at the resort when her stay was over, like lost luggage that would never find its way back to her door.

What a wonderful, wonderful dream.

Violet picked up her broom and swept the floor vigorously.

She mustn't let her mind stray on such things, she thought.

It couldn't be good for her weak heart.