The Way Back to Happiness by Elizabeth Bass Page A

Bronson!”
    Surprise caused Bev to swerve the car, hitting the shoulder. She opened her mouth to tell her how wrong she was, but Alabama smiled and offered her candy.
    “M&M?”
    Distracted, Bev held out her hand and Alabama shook a few into her palm. Bev took one and crunched busily for a few moments. Maybe Derek wasn’t quite Magnum, p.i., but on the Selleck-Bronson continuum, he definitely fell more toward Selleck.
    Not that it matters.
    She didn’t care about looks. The essence of a person was the important thing. Derek was solid, yet exciting. He’d swept her off her feet. No one like him had ever looked twice at her before. Of course, she couldn’t go into sex appeal with a fourteen-year-old. Anyway, Alabama was probably saying she liked Glen better just to be contrary. She didn’t know the first thing about him.
    Charles Bronson! Derek looked nothing like him. Nothing.
    Except for the mustache. And maybe a little around the eyes.
    What had Glen been up to back there at the gas station, anyway ? Was he trying to panic her? That stuff about the choir might not be official. She hadn’t heard anything. All Lon would have to do was pick up the phone and call her to let her know. Of course, that’s all he would have had to do to invite her to his birthday picnic, and he hadn’t done that, either.
    “ Death Wish was an okay movie, though,” Alabama said. “I watched that with Mom.”
    Irritation growing, Bev tightened her grip on the steering wheel. She didn’t want to discuss Derek, so she switched topics. “When we get home tonight, you and I need to have a little talk about money.”
    “Why?”
    “I know you’ve been sneaking money out of my purse.” Before Alabama’s protest could reach full throttle, she added, “And back there at the gas station, you should have asked me first before buying all that junk in the store.”
    “It’s food. I have to eat.”
    “Not that, you don’t.”
    Alabama looked like she was going to put up an argument, then stopped and twisted her lip. “So why wait?”
    Bev tilted her head. “Wait for what?”
    “Why wait till tonight to talk about it? We’re sitting here in a car with nothing to do. Do you think by waiting till we get home I’ll have had hours to become trembly and sorry for stealing your money? Or do you need more time to think of something to say?”
    Bev’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Sass like that would have earned her a swat or even a sharp slap when she was young—but she didn’t believe in raising her hand to other human beings. Also, she was staggered by the sheer crust of Alabama’s retort. She’d admitted to stealing, then added the distracting flourish of an insult at the end.
    “I realize that you’ve been getting by without an allowance,” Bev said, pressing forward reasonably. “We should have addressed this earlier. I was thinking I could give you five dollars a week.”
    Alabama practically crowed. “Wow! Five dollars. Thanks, Auntie Bev! I might be able to go to a movie every once in a while on that.”
    The sarcasm riled Bev. “I’m not going to give you more money so you can throw it all away. And you have all your food and clothing paid for.”
    “I do?”
    “I was going to make you a few things next month,” Bev told her.
    Alabama groaned.
    Bev stiffened. “Acting ugly is not the way to get what you want.”
    “You have no idea what I want!”
    The outburst blew Bev back a little in her seat. “How could I? You never tell me.” Her glance shifted from the road in front of her to her niece’s face contorting in incoherent rage.
    Finally, Alabama bit out, “I don’t want anything. I didn’t ask to be here. I’m only staying with you until Gladdie gets better. So you can keep your money—and your dorky clothes. I’m not starting high school wearing insect appliqués and Peter Pan collars. If I need anything, I’ll ask Gladdie.”
    Bev supposed that was supposed to hurt her feelings. Well, an insult only hurt