Free Lucky Stuff (Jane Wheel Mysteries) by Sharon Fiffer Page A

relegated to the bathroom in the basement. He had tiled it and built a shower in the small bathroom next to the area where he kept his beloved, if not often-used, exercise bike. No one would mistake his small corner of the basement for a man cave, but it served as a fairly soundproof hideaway for Don.
    “And,” Nellie added, “no matter where you stay, Rita stays here. I know how to take care of her.”
    Jane kissed Tim on the cheek.
    “I’ll move into that lovely suite later,” said Jane. “But tonight I want to catch up on some stuff with Don and Nellie.”
    Tim was still shaking his head as he jumped into his car and roared off. Jane didn’t blame him. It was crazy. But she didn’t want to chat all night about where she was going to live and what she was going to do next. She had enough of it for now.
    Jane wanted to hide out in her old bedroom, read a good-night text from Nick, and answer him with a long e-mail about how lucky they were that they sold the house, She needed to ask him what he wanted her to save from his closet. She needed to know if there were any old soccer balls or baseball cards, anything that she needed to rescue for him. Although she knew she could do that at Tim’s house, she also knew that if she decided to cry, just a little, before falling asleep, Tim would be listening at the door and fall all over himself fussing and trying to make her feel better.
    Nellie, on the other hand, would leave her completely alone.
    Jane closed her bedroom door and opened the large bag she always carried—her just-in-case—and inventoried her possessions: one toothbrush; one half tube of toothpaste; Kiehl’s lip balm and moisturizer; hairbrush; large silver hoop earrings, pajamas, silky kimono; two changes of underclothes; spare blue jeans; navy turtleneck; black turtleneck; good black pants; blue oxford cloth tunic; gray cardigan; brown lace-up hiking shoes; plaid wool Pendleton shirt; two pairs smart wool socks; gold and black patterned pashmina; one black jersey dress with a V-neck, three-quarter sleeves, and a wrap style that incorporated baggy pockets; black strappy flats that could pass for dress shoes. Jane laid all of these things out carefully on the extra twin bed. From the outside zippered compartment she removed a pair of leather driving gloves, an extra lipstick, and a carved red Bakelite bangle. She sniffed the bracelet, hoping for a whiff of formaldehyde, the comforting eau-de Bakelite that she loved so much, but smelled nothing.
    “You might be the only one I have,” she whispered.
    Patting her not-too-worn Coach briefcase, which she had picked up at a house sale for three dollars— three dollars —she felt for her laptop and notebook and pens. She felt for the cords she used to her charge her computer and phone, then slapped her pocket to make sure she did, indeed, have her phone.
    Jane looked in the mirror. She was wearing dark jeans, short Frye boots, a navy V-neck sweater, a chain around her neck with a few silver medals and a baby ring—all rummage treasures—and an old buttery leather jacket that she had bought when she and Charley were in New York, for their fifth anniversary. It had been way too expensive but Charley had insisted she buy it.
    “It will never go out of style,” he had said.
    Jane knew that wasn’t exactly true. The jacket had gone in and out of style, several times actually, but she wore it through its ins and its outs. Every September, she took it out of her closet and put it in her car, or folded it into her just-in-case, so she would have it with her when the sun went down.
    “Thanks, Charley,” Jane said. “I’m glad I bought it.”
    “Did you say something?” asked Nellie, walking in without knocking. Jane wondered how long her mother had stood outside the door, waiting for Jane to sigh or groan so she’d have an excuse to come in.
    “Just taking stock of my worldly possessions,” said Jane. She waved her arms over the bed. “Except for my