Blame it on Cupid

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Book: Read Blame it on Cupid for Free Online
Authors: Jennifer Greene
caretaker of the place, but it was impossible to hear anything clearly over the eardrum-piercing volume on the TV.
    She explained why she was here—or tried to—but she was so anxious to find Charlene that her attention kept straying to the living room. She didn’t expect to find a little girl in the middle of the geriatric set, but still, she wanted an impression of the place Charlene had been camping out in since the funeral.
    Closest to the TV, she saw an old man, then an older man, then a man who’d clearly lived in the l700s and was just hanging on by a thread…then an old lady, who was holding hands with another old lady, followed by someone sprawled on the couch of indeterminate sex and drool drizzling down his chin….
    There was only one face she couldn’t catch at all, someone in a big old Morris chair, and when she crooked her head forward she identified a young person. Her heart leaped—but only for a second. It was a boy, not a girl. The kid was bent down, playing some kind of computer game, but the clothes gave away his gender. He was wearing army fatigues—long tee and pants—with big boots, and had a brush cut as if he’d just signed up for the marines.
    At least Charlene hadn’t been the only soul under ninety in the place. Almost everyone looked gentle and kindly, but still, the more Merry saw, the more she wanted to hustle Charlene out of there and get her home.
    â€œCharlene,” she repeated again to the caretaker, worried that he hadn’t understood her because of the roaring television. “I have papers giving me permission to take her. Mr. Oxford should have called. The only reason she came here was because her great-grandmother was the only relative she had, until they found a guardian or—”
    â€œYes. Absolutely. We’ve been expecting you, like I keep saying. And she’s right there.”
    He pointed at the kid, the boy.
    Merry shook her head. God. In the last ten days, she’d argued with her dad and family and friends, quit a job, upended her whole life, packed up, suffered a god-awful two-day drive, landed in a terrifyingly high-end suburb and then had to clean all last night. She wasn’t frayed exactly. She just needed one thing to go smoothly. “No. I mean a girl—”
    But finally, over all the noise, the caretaker yelled “Charlene” loud enough to catch the child’s attention. When the child responded, Merry started to get it.
    The skinny scrap of a kid—the one with the marine brush cut, the he-man fatigue shirt and forearm tattoo and combat boots—was actually her kid.
    The child obediently put down the computer game, got up and hiked toward her. The caretaker ordered the kid to stick out a hand. The kid did. And though Merry desperately wanted to throw her arms around the child and hug her senseless, she found herself returning the polite, stiff handshake.
    â€œPleased to meet you,” Charlene said.
    â€œI’m thrilled to finally meet you, too,” Merry said, but instead of the exuberantly warm, reassuring tone she had in mind, her voice came out faint as a whisper. The child looked like her dad, as far as the skinny build and small bones, the blond hair and blue eyes. But the all-guy outfit and the robotic walk and self-contained expression stunned Merry, and for damn sure, confused her.
    This was Charlene?
    The sweet young girl she’d bought sparkly bangles and pink socks for?

CHAPTER THREE
    I T WASN ’ T EVEN ten o’clock, yet already the morning had managed to turn into one nonstop nightmare after another.
    On the drive home, Merry discovered that Charlene was capable of speech. So far, though, the only words she’d freely offered were—“You’re taking me home, right?”
    And that was the last sign of animation she’d gotten out of the girl. They’d collected a suitcase of stuff, stashed it in the back of the Mini, had the

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