Chapter 9

The next morning, Elizabeth was awoken from an admittedly fragile sleep by the piercing screech of the fire alarm.

Leaping from her bed and grabbing her bathrobe, she raced down the hallway to the kitchen, struggling to smooth her hair back enough to see, and her eyes landed on Fred. Who was holding a pan. Which was on fire.

"Fred!" she shouted over the blaring of the alarm. Without waiting for an answer, she flew to the sink, turned on the tap, grabbed Fred's arm and directed the pan under the running water. With a hiss and an enormous cloud of smoke, the fire died quickly. She reached up and deftly removed the cover from the alarm, then grabbed the battery out of it. The blaring stopped immediately. Elizabeth turned her attention back to Fred, whose expression was somewhere between bewilderment and feigned innocence. "What in the world happened?" she asked, breathless.

He gave her a helpless shrug. "Eggs have a flash point. Who knew?"

"Eggs?" she repeated, still trying to blink her way into full consciousness. "You were making eggs?"

"Yeah, well…" He shrugged again, dropping the hot pan in the sink with a clatter. "I thought I'd make you breakfast, Snotface. Didn't know I'd be risking my life to do it. The stupid toaster damn near electrocuted me, too."

Her eyes traveled across the counter to the toaster, which was lying on its side with a knife poking out of it. She tried to hide her cringe. "The toast pops up on its own, Fred. You don't have to pry it out."

"Then how was I supposed to know if it was done or not?" he replied somewhat tersely. "Honestly Snotface, this entire kitchen is a deathtrap."

"With someone like you trying to cook, it would be," she muttered, surveying the burned pieces of egg scattered on the floor and pieces of torn toast lying on the counter. She sighed, running her hands over her face. "Listen, I appreciate the gesture, but just so we both live through the morning, how about I make breakfast?"

"No problem!" Fred said agreeably, sticking his hands in his pockets and dropping into one of the kitchen chairs. "So! What's on the agenda for today, then? I noticed there's a shitload of pigeons about. How about we capture some, train them to do our bidding, and then send them on dive-bombing missions in the city to poo all over people's heads?"

While Fred was explaining his plan in great detail over the next several moments (including a "hit-list" that said dive-bombing pigeon could target, including Polly), Elizabeth swept up the eggs, put the pan in the dishwasher, and cleaned up the toaster. "Listen Fred, not that that doesn't sound...uh, rewarding, in a weird way...but I have to work today. Pretty sure I've exhausted whatever limited patience my ass of a boss has for things like sick days."

"Oh, well then, I'll just come with you," he said brightly, as though that was that.

A look of horror crossed her face before she got ahold of herself. "I don't think that's a good idea, Fred." She got out a clean pan and began to prepare some eggs for scrambling, unsure how to phrase her next sentence. "Look, Fred...the truth is, supporting two people on my salary isn't going to work. I barely have enough for myself at the moment. Have you given any thought to...you know...getting a job?"

"Fart Goblin said something about it last night," Fred mused, carefully tearing apart a cloth napkin at the seams that he'd found on the table.

"Well, it might not be a bad idea," Elizabeth said in what she hoped sounded like an optimistic voice, pouring the eggs into the hot pan. "I'm sure there's something out there that would suit you." Though off the top of her head, she had no idea what that something might be. "Maybe I can drop you off downtown before I go into work, you can look for a job down there, and I'll pick you up tonight." When Fred didn't respond and continued to tear apart her nice, new cloth napkin, for heaven's sake!, she continued, "Do you...you know, have any skills?"

"I can train pigeons to poo on people," Fred responded, still absorbed in the napkin.

"I mean something that an employer might be interested in."

"There's probably a whole lot of people that would pay me to have a pigeon poo on their mother's head. Or specifically just your mother."

"I meant like any sort of a trade, or something," Elizabeth continued to push. "You know, like I'm a paralegal. Mickey works construction. Janie's a lawyer. Charles sold cars. Things like that. Cosmo said you hadn't been an imaginary friend forever, so you must have done something before that."

Fred's face remained passive, not meeting her eye.

Elizabeth sighed again and popped two pieces of toast into the toaster. "Listen, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, alright? But you'll need a job of some sort, just to support yourself."

After a beat, Fred suddenly threw the napkin to the floor, as though it disgusted him. "When I had my magic, I didn't have to worry about all of this mortal bullshit. I was never hungry, never cold, never tired."

"Well, you're mortal now, Fred."

"Don't remind me," he muttered, getting up and beginning to pace. "I begged them not to make me mortal again, Snotface. I had everything I needed. I had my work, I had my magic, the only thing I didn't have was - " He stopped short here, somewhat embarrassed, and didn't look at her.

Even he, as outwardly carefree as he was, couldn't deny the fact that in the mortal world, a lot of things came down to money. He hadn't forgotten that much, at least, and he wasn't blind to the fact that Elizabeth was in a transitory period in her life, and as such, money was important for things like paying the rent on a new apartment and feeding an imaginary friend that had suddenly become human.

And he never wanted to be a burden on Snotface. That simply would not do.

A defeated look crossed his face. "All right," he said quietly. "Take me downtown and I'll look for a job. I'll make good, Snotface. Promise."

Before leaving the house, an argument nearly erupted between them as Elizabeth urged him to wear his one and only new suit, as perhaps it would look better to potential employers, while Fred argued it made him look like he was on his way to a funeral, and who would hire someone who was on their way to a funeral? The compromise they made had Fred wearing jeans, but a nicely pressed, collared shirt and the black jacket that had belonged to Mickey, as Fred decided he was growing fond of it. Again Elizabeth could do very little with his hair, but at least the rest of him looked fairly presentable.

They climbed into the car shortly thereafter, Elizabeth dressed for work and Fred dressed for about anything, and began to make their way towards downtown. The events of the previous evening were still fresh in her mind, and they settled into an uncomfortable silence.

"Listen, Fred, about last night…" she started, hands tightening on the wheel. "I think it's best if we just pretend it didn't happen." After a moment of silence, she chanced a glance at him, finding him staring out the window, his expression unreadable. "Don't you?"

"Sure," he responded evenly. "It's our little secret."

It's our little secret had been a catchphrase in her childhood with Fred, as countless times they'd pulled a prank or done something they didn't want the adults to find out about, and they'd always whispered an assuring It's our little secret to one another like a pact or a code, usually sealed with a pinky swear.

She nodded. "Right. I just didn't want it to be weird between us."

"You're weird enough as it is. Laying a big old smooch on me won't make you any weirder than you already are."

She rubbed her forehead; she guessed it had been her that made the first move. She'd almost forgotten. Almost let herself believe it didn't happen, and that she hadn't betrayed Mickey's trust.

"Ok, look. It doesn't matter who initiated it. It's just between us, ok? And for the record, you're also weird."

"Guilty as charged," he replied with a quick smirk in her direction. "So you're not going to tell Fartpants about it, then?"

"No!" she barked. "And neither are you! That reminds me: I'm going out with him tonight, so you're on your own."

"Oh, charming," Fred deadpanned. "All alone cooped up in a little box in the suburbs after wandering 'round all day looking for a job. Mortal life certainly is exciting."

Elizabeth dropped Fred off on a busy street corner, giving him strict instructions that she'd meet him at the same spot precisely at 6pm, and then drove to the parking garage near her office. Her heart began pounding in her chest as it often did right before stepping into her workplace.

The legal office where she worked was a pressure cooker to say the least. The company regularly took cases that no one else wanted to touch, and as such the stress level was staggering. The partners took it out on the lawyers, and the lawyers took it out on the paralegals like Elizabeth. Shit rolls downhill, as Janie always said, and Elizabeth had never believed it so strongly before getting a job at that office.

She wasn't well-liked in the office, and no one made a secret of it. She'd long ago abandoned the notion that it was some personal failing on her part - although she admitted that she'd made her fair share of honest mistakes - but rather because she came off as quiet and unassuming, at least at first, she was often times an easy target for a stressed out, bitter supervisor who was looking to lay into someone. There were days when she could almost smell it in the air.

As soon as she walked into the office, she immediately knew that today was one of those days.

Bart Caldwill, one of the ballsier of the lawyers and also one of her direct supervisors, was the first to catch sight of her. "Ah, here she is!" he called melodramatically. "Arisen from her deathbed to grace us with her presence!"

She simpered and put her purse into her desk. "I'm - I'm feeling much better now," she said to Bart, as he stood over her desk holding a cup of coffee. "Sorry I missed a few days."

"Oh, no problem," he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. "It's not like we're doing important work for our clients here or anything."

She bit her lip to keep from saying something nasty and instead took a quick look around the office. "Well, you seem to have survived without me somehow," she said in a light voice, hoping he took it as a joke.

His face darkened and he leaned down next to her. "Maybe that ought to worry you a bit, Ms. Cronin," he whispered, then walked away.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she pulled the first memo from her inbox. A request for a case file. Easy enough. She dodged several other secretaries, assistants and paralegals to get to the large row of filing cabinets where she began to search for the file in question. Her fingers, used to this sort of work, flipped along the files, her brow etched in concentration.

"Hey Elizabeth!" came the cheery cry of Nancy Bick, one of the legal secretaries who somehow, some way was always chipper. Elizabeth had always suspected some sort of narcotic was involved - no one could possibly be happy in this place for so long without some sort of help. Nancy was looking through the cabinet to her left. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, much better," Elizabeth lied. "I didn't realize taking sick days was such a big deal here."

"Oh, you know how they are - they're all workaholics around here, and don't understand anyone who isn't," Nancy chirped, as though this was all perfectly reasonable. "I know you're still sort of new, but you'll learn. Why, last year Cathy Bigthergall broke six ribs, her collarbone and her tibia in a car accident, had to have two emergency surgeries, and they still expected her back a week after the accident. It was six before she came back."

This sounded horrifying to Elizabeth but she tried not to show it. She needed this job, and although she hated it, it paid better than any job she'd ever had. "Really," she said, trying to sound disinterested. Nancy loved nothing more than to gossip. "I guess they knew better than to try and get her back so soon. They're lawyers, they know they could get sued back into oblivion."

"Oh, no!" Nancy trilled. "It's the other way around, honey. They do the suing. They let her go, and she knew better than to try and file suit."

With this, Nancy pranced away and Elizabeth found the file she was seeking. She tried to avoid eye contact with the other stony-faced lawyers who were practically shoulder deep in paperwork, dropping off the file at the correct lawyer's desk, and heading back to her own. The next item in her inbox was asking for a bit of information for an upcoming case (the office's client, a car manufacturer, was being sued by fifty-four people whose relatives had died due to faulty airbags in the cars, and the lawyer had asked Elizabeth to research how air bags worked so that, she supposed, he could find a loophole that would acquit the manufacturer), so she began to research the item in question in one of her books.

She soon became absorbed in the research and didn't realize that Clint Washington, another lawyer and yet another of her supervisors, was hovering over her desk looking madder than a hornet. He slammed the file she'd just brought him down on her desk.

"That's not the file I asked for," he barked.

She reached for the memo he'd sent her, and tried to calmly show him that it was the correct file. He pursed his lips.

"Listen, I don't have time for bullshit this morning, Ms. Cronin," he said. His cologne was so strong it nearly gagged her. "This is clearly the wrong date here - " Here, he pointed to the date that he, himself, had written on the request, " - because I'd never ask for a file that old. You know that."

Again, Elizabeth tried to bite her tongue, but she couldn't help but let slip, "I'm sorry that I haven't honed my psychic ability to your standards yet, Mr. Washington, but that is the file you requested, and so that is what I brought you."

He looked vaguely surprised, but his expression turned to steel once again. "Anticipating the needs of your supervisor is hardly psychic ability, as you put it, and I don't appreciate it when paralegals get lippy. Find the file from this year, like you should have done in the first place, and we'll say no more about it."

She sighed and rose from her chair, her face burning. It was going to be a long day.

But it wasn't until after lunch, at around two o'clock, when the shit really hit the fan.

She'd endured three different supervisors each stopping by her desk, asking her pointedly if she was feeling better and why she wasn't caught up on days' worth of work yet, and was doing her best not to scream in their face each time when the phone rang at her desk.

"Elizabeth Cronin," she said, trying to keep the growl out of her voice and hoping she sounded professional.

"Snotface?" Fred's voice sounded tinny and far away.

"Fred? Where are you?"

"Well, funny story, actually." Here, Fred attempted an awkward chuckle, and failed. "Thing of it is, Snotface, I'm at the police station."

Her blood ran cold. "Why?" she asked, dragging the word out.

"Well, see, the police here, they...well, you see, the thing of it is - "

"Fred, spit it out!"

"I was arrested! Can you believe that?"

Her palm hit her forehead. "Fred, what do you mean, you were arrested?"

"Listen, I can explain later, but for now, I think you'd better get down here quick. And bring money. And maybe call Fart Goblin. She's a lawyery-thing, isn't she?"

Not trusting herself to answer, Elizabeth hung up and put her face in her hands. "Why today?" she muttered. Nevertheless, she bravery rose and began gathering her things, and Clint swooped down like a hawk.

"Lunch is over, Ms. Cronin."

"I - uh, I have to leave, Mr. Washington. It's a...family emergency," she stammered, her cheeks burning.

He scoffed. "Sit down, Ms. Cronin. The work day ends at six, and not a moment before. You know that."

She couldn't leave Fred at the police station. She just couldn't. But the pile of unpaid bills at home also called to her. "Listen, I'll come in on Saturday to make up the hours," she promised. "I'll come in Sunday too, and next weekend to make up the days I missed if you want. But there's something I need to take care of, and I need to leave. I'm sorry, but that's the reality."

"Is that so?" he said, appraising her coldly, almost seeming to enjoy it. "That's the reality, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then." He put his hands in the pockets of his perfectly pressed pants. "Then the reality is that your services are no longer needed. Clear out your desk, Cronin. You're done here."


Three hours later, Fred was finally freed from the holding cell on a $750 bond that Elizabeth paid and they headed home in complete silence, as anything Fred tried to say died in his throat before he could get more than a word or two out, and Elizabeth refused to speak since she couldn't trust herself not to say something hurtful. As soon as they arrived at the door, Fred wisely claimed he was going for a long walk, wished Elizabeth luck on her date that night, and disappeared, knowing that the expression on Elizabeth's face meant she didn't want to see him for a while and that he should make himself scarce.

Elizabeth had called Janie at the station, and Janie was waiting for her inside the apartment, looking through Fred's arrest record from that afternoon. Elizabeth opened the door, spotted Janie, and immediately collapsed on the couch next to her.

"Tough day, kid?" Janie said, not looking up from her notes.

"I got fired today, Janie," Elizabeth said calmly. "And then had to bail my childhood best friend out of jail with next month's rent money."

"That's rough," Janie murmured. "Let me get this straight. You drop him off this morning to look for a job, which he claims he did."

"Yeah, well, he also admitted to calling several business owners bloody bastards when they had the audacity to tell him they weren't hiring, so who knows."

"Right. So, instead he decides the best course of action is to pickpocket someone. Who turned out to be an undercover cop."

Elizabeth put her face in her hands. "Five hours, Janie. I only left him alone for five hours."

"Listen, courts in this city have bigger fish to fry. I think I can probably get him out of this, or at least let off with only a fine."

"I can't afford a fine, Janie! I can't even afford dinner at this point!" Elizabeth wailed, tears threatening to fall.

"Relax," Janie soothed, closing the case file. "Let me take care of this, Lizzie. Pro bono, of course. If I get nasty enough, might even be able to get the fine dropped with just a misdemeanor on his record."

Elizabeth sat up, leaning forward to try and keep the tears in her eyes. "Why is it everytime Fred shows up, my life starts falling apart?"

"Usually because something needs to fall apart before it can get better," Janie replied deftly, grabbing her purse. "That's a very ancient idea, you know. Destruction, transformation - sometimes it's the same thing in the end. Listen, I don't want you to think I'm defending the guy. I don't have a horse in this race. But seems like he hasn't had to be, you know, a functional human for a long time. It's like he gets things mixed up in his mind. Thinks he can act the same and do the things he used to do when only you could see him. It might just take him some time to adjust, that's all."

"I don't know how much more adjusting I can take," Elizabeth muttered.

Janie put her hand on Elizabeth's. "You do whatever you need to do, sister. But I'll tell you one thing. I haven't seen you as happy as you were last night in a long time. I mean, a long time." She looked at her friend carefully. "Did you guys...you know...talk about what happened last night? The kiss, I mean?"

"We both agreed not to talk about it," Elizabeth said quietly, not looking at Janie. "Thanks for everything, Janie, but I have to get ready for my date with Mickey."

"All right, but look, let's have lunch tomorrow. My treat." Janie rose as Elizabeth nodded. Janie gave her one last look, her hand on the doorknob, and said, "And look, Lizzie - you hated that fucking job. You hated it. Try to remember that."

Elizabeth took her time in getting ready, half-hoping that Fred would arrive back and perhaps they could talk a little, but knew she was still too worked up to be entirely calm and rational. She left the front door unlocked for him, lingering outside by the car for a short while hoping to spot him, but finally gave up.

She arrived at Mickey's shortly thereafter. She noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway, but figured it must be Nat's babysitter. However, when she knocked on the door, a surprise greeted her on the threshold.

"Marcia?" she stammered in surprise at finding Mickey's ex-wife in the doorway.

"Hi, Lizzie!" Marcia said warmly, pulling her in for a hug. Elizabeth was too surprised to hug back. "Mickey said you'd be here tonight. I'm just about to put the pork chops in the oven. Come on in!"

Somewhat stunned, Elizabeth entered and took off her coat. Marcia continued to prattle, vocally admiring Elizabeth's dress and earrings, and put Elizabeth's coat in the closet. Elizabeth took the opportunity to give Marcia a once-over: they'd only met briefly once or twice before Marcia left for New Mexico, and while Marcia seemed nice enough, there was something about her constantly-distracted air, her willingness to let a work meeting or function take priority over family, that had always rubbed Elizabeth the wrong way, perhaps because she'd seen her father exhibit the same behavior when she was young.

"Nat's been telling me all about you," Marcia was saying as she led Elizabeth into the living room that Elizabeth herself had decorated. "I know she's excited to see you."

"Well, I - I'm excited to see her too," Elizabeth said, looking around the empty living room. "Where are she and Mickey?"

"Mickey's just helping her finish homework upstairs. Come on in the kitchen. Want some wine?"

"God, yes!" Elizabeth agreed a little too eagerly, then caught herself. "That would be wonderful," she said more demurely.

She sat in the kitchen - the one she'd cooked a hundred meals in - watching this near-stranger glide around preparing food in there like she did it every night, giving monosyllabic answers to the chatty, polite questions that Marcia posed to her, taking gulps of her wine in an attempt to calm down slightly.

Finally, the telltale sounds of steps taken two at a time were heard, and Natalie burst into the kitchen. Her eyes landed on Elizabeth, and she grinned. "Lizzie!" she cried, and wrapped her arms around the older woman.

"Hi Nat! I missed you!" Elizabeth replied, hugging the child tightly and giving her a light noogie. "Homework finished?"

"All done," Mickey said as he strode in, also smiling. He, too, leaned in to give Elizabeth a hug but she noticed that he did not move to give her a kiss. "Fractions are harder than I remember them being."

"I know more about them than Daddy!" Natalie crowed, climbing up on one of the stools. "But Mommy - she's the best at math!"

"I've had a lot of practice," Marcia said with a smile. "Gotta keep the books balanced at work."

"How's - How's the business going, Marcia?" Elizabeth stumbled.

"Going great. I'm moving the headquarters here so I can be closer to Nat." Marcia added the last few dashes of herbs to the chops and put them in the oven. "In a year or two, it'll practically run itself."

Elizabeth looked her boyfriend's ex-wife up and down; the woman positively radiated money. From the expensive cut of her clothes to the diamond earrings, it was an even harder pill to swallow that Elizabeth - never close to rich to begin with - was now unemployed.

Mickey watched Elizabeth's expression and cleared his throat. "Lizzie, I found some more of your stuff. It's in the garage. Want to come tell me what to do with it?" he asked, his eyes pleading.

Silently, she followed and soon they were alone in the garage, he began, "Lizzie, let me explain - "

Elizabeth cut him off. "Mickey, I knew Marcia was coming back to town, but she looks pretty damn comfortable in your house."

He looked slightly sheepish. "Well, technically it's her house. I mean, I won it in the divorce, but she's the one who bou - "

"You know exactly what I mean. Is she staying here?"

"For a few days until she can find a place, yes."

Elizabeth made a scoffing sound. "Mickey, you realize how uncomfortable it makes me to come over here with your ex-wife cooking me dinner?"

Mickey's eyes flashed. "And do you realize how uncomfortable it made me to go to your apartment to find there's a strange man I don't know living with you?"

She stopped; he had her there. She played with a pebble with the sole of her shoe.

Mickey sighed. "Listen, she might be my ex-wife. But the difference is, she's my daughter's mother. Natalie's thrilled to have her back. I haven't seen her this happy in months, Lizzie. Not only that, but you knew full well Marcia was moving back to town, while I had no idea about Fred."

"In my defense, neither did I. And anyway, I didn't know Marcia would be living here."

"She's - She's not living here, she's just staying for a few days. Like you said your Fred guy was." His eyes narrowed a bit. "Is Fred still there, Lizzie?"

She looked up at him sharply. "Is that what this is about, Mickey? Are you trying to get back at me about Fred by inviting Marcia to stay here, when you knew I'd be over to see you and Nat?"

"What? No! It just seemed bizarre to me to have Marcia stay in a hotel when the whole reason she's back is to try and reconnect with Nat. Listen." He grabbed onto Elizabeth's hands and held them tightly. "I believe you when you say there's nothing going on between you and Fred. So I want you to believe me when I say nothing is going on between me and Marcia. She's staying in a separate bedroom in a separate part of the house. Marcia and I are parents first, exes second. Ok?"

Elizabeth looked at him for a long moment and then pulled him into a hug. "All right. I'm sorry, Mickey. I just - I've had a terrible day and I shouldn't take it out on you. I - I lost my job and money is already tight."

Mickey's face crumpled in concern and he immediately reached for his wallet. "Lizzie, I've got some extra money this week - little side drywalling job I did for a buddy - let me just - "

"No, it's fine. Really."

"Lizzie." He gave her a broad smile. "You're my girl. I don't mind helping you out. You've helped me out before. Come on."

He handed over about $300 in cash, which Elizabeth reluctantly took. "I'll pay you back, Mickey," she whispered.

"Don't worry about it. Come on. Let's get back inside."

Elizabeth, despite her best efforts at being cheerful and friendly, felt like the third wheel all evening. Mickey, Marcia and Natalie seemed like a cohesive family unit, laughing at inside jokes together and playfully teasing one another while Elizabeth tried to smile at the right times. She dodged questions about her work and home life, as both were a mess, and Mickey tried to break the awkwardness by telling funny stories about Nat and Fred.

Nat kept protesting laughingly that she didn't remember Fred, but certainly remembered blowing up her birthday cake, throwing paint at the side of the house, and a dozen other Fred-adventures that made Elizabeth laugh genuinely for the first time all evening and reminded her of many of her own childhood adventures with the red-headed time bomb. She even told a few of her own Fred-adventures, making them all howl with laughter. Despite all that had happened that day, she found herself missing Fred, feeling as though he should be there with these other people who - though they had no idea he actually existed - had made their lives funnier and brighter than they would have been otherwise, and asked nothing in return, not even a memory of him.

She helped Mickey and Marcia put Natalie to bed, though she felt like she was only in the way, and as the clock struck nine she put on her coat, thanked Marcia, and stepped out into the driveway with Mickey, their breaths billowing in the cold night air.

"Marcia's a nice lady," she said to Mickey.

"Well, I try not to marry people who aren't nice," Mickey said with a laugh. "Thanks for coming, Lizzie. I'm sorry, I guess I should have given you a heads up that Marcia would be here."

"It's ok," she said, though part of her didn't mean it. She looked up at him. "How about we go out this weekend? Just you and me?"

He looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well - thing is, I promised to take Nat and Marcia to that new amusement park up north. We'll be staying in a hotel all weekend."

Her heart sank slightly. "Oh. But I thought you, me and Nat were going to go soon."

He shrugged, looking down at the ground. "Well, I wanted to go before it got too cold and they shut the park down for the season, and I - I wasn't sure what your schedule was since - since we weren't living together anymore, and - well, Marcia is so eager to reconnect with Nat, and - "

Elizabeth cut off his rambling. "It's fine, Mickey. I know Nat needs her more than she needs me. I just hope you guys have fun."

"We can get together just as soon as we get back, Lizzie. Just you and me. I'll take you out somewhere nice. Your choice, my treat."

"All right. Thanks for dinner, Mickey."

They gave each other an awkward kiss before Elizabeth pulled out of the driveway. As soon as she was safely away from the house, she burst into tears.