17
After the day she had, all Samantha wanted was to get home, take a scalding hot shower, and crawl into bed with a glass of whisky. The big moving van in her driveway crushed her hopes of that happening.
A full head of brown hair bopped out of the back and shot her a pearling smile. “Sam! I thought you said you wouldn’t be home.”
“I thought you said you weren’t moving until Friday,” Samantha groaned, dodging a moving man.
“It is Friday, dummy.” Melissa’s bemused smile only irritated her more.
“I forgot.” She swerved past a heap of cardboard boxes and avoided the plastic bag obstructing the entrance. “How long until everything is packed up?”
Her ex-wife scratched her head. “Maybe another hour or two?”
“Great…” Samantha ignored another man carrying trays and dishes. The house looked
