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phone rang. I checked it, hoping and worrying it might be work. Maybe they had an unsolvable problem and needed me.
    But no. It was my mother.
    “Hi, Mother.”
    “Darling, how are you?” But in her typical style, she didn’t wait for an answer. “I’ve called to ask you to accompany me to a luncheon. Since your father’s death—” She paused for dramatic effect. It certainly wasn’t grief. The man had died five years previous as they were in the midst of a nasty divorce. “Well, you know how much I dislike attending these functions on my own.”
    “Does Francesca have other plans?” My mother’s go-to tennis and bridge buddy, Francesca enjoyed the outings, which was why Mom usually asked her first. I was her last-ditch choice.
    “Dear, Francesca and I aren’t spending as much time together these days.” Mom sniffed. “She’s dating a very young man. I do not approve.”
    “Hm. Mother, can I call you back when I get home? I just picked up a new car and I should probably be paying closer attention.”
    “Oh, but your lease on the Audi isn’t up yet, is it? Did you have an accident? Are you all right? Why didn’t you call?” This time she did wait for a response after her barrage of questions. Because as annoying as my mother could be, the woman did love me.
    “I’m fine.” No need to expound upon the vampire thing. If I was dying, I wasn’t spending my last few days in a mental institution. Or being hunted down by Mr. Clean. A tiny spark of an idea was forming in my head as to how I might spend those days. “The Audi doesn’t suit me any longer. I bought a Jeep. A preowned Jeep.”
    And I waited for it.
    Silence followed.
    I could practically feel the shock. The surprise. I bit my lip to keep from giggling.
    “But it’s been used. By someone else.”
    “That is what preowned means, Mother.” I watched the dust motes dance in the sunlight. “I’m sure the previous owner thoroughly cleaned it before they put it up for sale.”
    Best not to mention the minor hail damage or the colorful Kinky Friedman bumper sticker.
    “Are you sure you’re all right? You don’t sound like yourself. And it’s just so hard to imagine you in a…a used car.”
    “I’m good. I feel lighter. Like I’ve shed a burden.” And I didn’t mean that twenty-five pounds. “I’m freer.”
    “Honey, you’re not high, are you? I know there’s a lot pressure at work and lots of the kids do it—”
    “Mother, stop. I’m thirty-nine. I’m not influenced by what the kids are doing.”
    “You know what I mean—so you’re not taking drugs?”
    Mom sounded so concerned that I almost offered to go to that luncheon with her—but then I realized I couldn’t see her. We’d had lunch just a few weeks ago. She’d never believe how much weight I’d lost. Fake tanner would be an easy enough explanation for my newly even skin. Mom had recommended it often enough—but there was no easy fix for my weight loss. “No, definitely not taking drugs.”
    “Oh, I know—it’s a man, isn’t it? You’ve finally met someone!”
    “No. Have to run. New car, driving…” No need for her to know I was in light traffic and having no difficulties with the new dashboard controls. “Bye now.”
    “All right. Let’s talk soon, though.” Mom sounded a little forlorn, but she did finally hang up.
    The rest of my drive home was uneventful, except for three rather startling realizations that occurred almost one after the other.
    I was moving to the ’burbs. The little detour I’d taken through the south Austin neighborhood where I’d found my new car had appealed even more than my new ride. I’d worked hard my whole life, didn’t spend extravagantly, had saved—and my home didn’t feel like much of a home. I wasn’t really excited about moving, but living somewhere like the tiny neighborhood where I’d found my new car—that appealed.
    Which led to my next realization. I used to love my apartment. The sparseness of it