Free Finding Home by Lois Greiman Page B

remember?”
    â€œOf course I remember. I just . . . did we know each other from before? Are you the daughter of a long-lost friend or a cousin five times removed or something?”
    The girl was eyeing Casie with some uncertainty, wild dreadlocks brushing her left arm. “I don’t think so.”
    â€œThen why are you still here?” Okay, apparently only the euphoria had completely passed. Dregs of the unsolicited candor seemed to have been left behind like stale coffee grounds.
    â€œI told you, I was worried about you,” the girl repeated.
    Spying her father’s easy chair, Casie shambled off in that direction. “Well, I’m fine. Really,” she said, but maybe her hobbling gait made the words a little implausible. “Please . . . go home.”
    â€œListen . . .” the girl began, hustling after. “I can help you.”
    â€œWhat?” Casie eased herself into the padded chair and tried not to moan as her hind end touched heaven.
    â€œI know you can’t pay me and that’s fine. I’ll work for free. I’ll even buy my own groceries.”
    Casie glanced up at the almost hidden note of desperation in the girl’s voice. “Emily . . . It is Emily, right?” She was tired beyond belief, achy in places she’d never even cared to identify. “It’s really nice of you to offer. But you can’t just move in here.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWell, because . . .” She was sure there were a dozen viable reasons, but for a moment her mind was a little too fatigued to single out a likely excuse. It took several fragmented seconds to latch onto something halfway decent. “What about a toothbrush?”
    â€œWhat?”
    Okay, maybe that excuse wasn’t even halfway decent, but she stuck with it. “Dental hygiene,” she said, shifting a little and half closing her eyes at the feel of the cushion against her back. “It’s very important and I don’t have a spare brush.”
    â€œAre you serious?” The girl’s expression was deadpan.
    â€œYes,” she insisted. “You gotta have—”
    â€œI have everything I need in my backpack.”
    â€œYou do?”
    She nodded. “Including a toothbrush.”
    Dammit. “Still, you can’t just drop out of life. What about school?”
    â€œI graduated last year.”
    â€œThen there’s college. Tyler said you’re really bright.”
    Her full lips twisted with something that suggested irritation. “Well, I’m smart enough to know I can’t pay tuition.”
    Casie frowned. This seemed to be a recurring problem, but she didn’t dare get sucked into the girl’s troubles. She had a surplus of her own, and that was without her current rib difficulty. “Well, living here isn’t going to help you,” she said. “You’re going to have to get a loan or a scholarship or a . . . a fiancée willing to give up her dreams so you can pursue yours.”
    â€œWhat?”
    This honesty thing was the bomb, Casie thought, but reeled herself in. “You’re going to have to get a paying job.”
    â€œI had a job in Sioux Falls. It wasn’t much, but I was saving. I was a barista at the Jumping Bean and I was good at it, too. Maybe I’m a little . . .” She paused, canted her head, shrugged noncommittally. “A little mouthy sometimes. But I’m a good worker. Ask anyone. Ask Ike.”
    â€œIke?”
    â€œMy boss. He didn’t wanna let me go, but his daughter moved back from Nebraska so he gave her my position. I mean, I really couldn’t blame him. Tara’s gone to business school and he’s really proud of her and everything. But anyway . . .” She let her words slump to a halt and shrugged. “Now I can’t pay rent.”
    â€œYou’re not living with your parents?”
    Hurrying forward, Emily shifted the worn footstool in front of