"Wait, wait...so...how long have you been seeing Mr. Jones?" Polly asked as she poured her mother her second cup of tea in their parlor of the house.
Alice rubbed her temple with her right index and middle fingers as she leaned far back in her satin pink chair. "A couple months before the divorce." She groaned, feeling one of her headaches, but this time it wasn't from alcohol.
Polly finished pouring her mother's tea and she sat back down on the small sofa across from Alice, sitting beside her little sister.
"I had a feeling." Betty admitted. "You got so much happier around that time."
"I don't wanna talk about happiness." Alice groaned again, still rubbing her temple and trying not to start crying again.
"Okay, ummm...We can talk about the time I thought I was pregnant by Dad's second cousin?" Polly joked with an awkward chuckle. Alice sent her a glare and her own smile faded as she cleared her throat. "Okay...nevermind."
"Why don't we just talk about school? Polly, are you gonna go to that hair school in Indianapolis?" Betty asked.
Alice whined. "Noooo. Don't talk about either of you leaving me."
"Mom, what CAN we talk about?" Polly asked.
"Nothing. Just do the routine for me. That always makes me smile." She smiled a bit just thinking about it.
"Mommm, nooo." Betty groaned while Polly stood up.
"Come onnnn, just take my hand and let's do it." Polly tried to coax Betty into it.
Betty sighed with a playful eye roll and she took her sister's hand, standing up and they moved to a more open space of the room in front of Alice, doing an old dance routine the girls made up when they were very young and it had become a type of coping mechanism for Alice when she needed her spirits lifted or when she needed to get her mind off some things. And it worked. It always worked. Making her laugh and smile as she watched her two babies growing up in front of her eyes.
FP pulled up to the small parkway in front of his home, sighing as he looked at the small size of it. He studied it, the lack of a paint job only making him feel smaller. After sitting in the truck for a couple minutes, he finally got out, going around to the back to a very small shed where he kept some old tools. He looked around inside the dark, beat up shed before taking off his suit jacket and rolling up the sleeves of the white button down shirt he wore. Once they were rolled up to his elbows, he grabbed the only can of white paint that he had and one of his two paint brushes, going around to the front of the tiny house, the part people would see from the road, and he began to paint over the chipped ivory that covered the wooden boards of the home.
After a few minutes, his front door opened and out came his son. Forsythe Pendleton "Jughead" Jones the Third looked to the left to see his father painting and he furrowed his brows with confusion. "Dad? What are you doing? I thought you said we didn't have enough paint for the whole house."
"We don't. But we can at least do the front for now." FP answered.
"Want help?" Jughead wondered.
"The other paint brush is in the shed." His father responded.
Jughead nodded, going to get the other brush and he came back, dipping it into their only can of paint. "You know...Archie offered us some money."
"No. I'm not taking money from your friends, boy." FP refused. "Especially when their parents are MY friends. I won't even take money from them."
"I know, Dad. But you're gonna have to. You can't get a job and you won't let me get one."
"You're staying in school." FP demanded. "We get by okay. I know that eating a small bowl of soup and a little piece of bread isn't very filling, but at least we're not starv-"
"Dad, Jelly Bean is living with us now." Jughead sighed as he interrupted his father.
"What?" FP stopped painting to look at his son.
"Mom just dropped her off this morning. She's inside right now. Apparently Mom can't take care of her, so she said you have to." Jug continued to paint.
"I-...I can't take care of the three of us. Why is your mother so selfi-"
"Dad, just take the money from Mr. and Mrs. Andrews….Please! You can't worry about being prideful right now." The 17 year old never looked to his father as he continued to paint, knowing he was right but not wanting to look his father in the eye.
FP sighed again, feeling his life falling apart as he started to paint again, deep in thought.
Hermione took a sip of her tea in the upstairs parlor of Lodge Manor as she watched her husband think more about the plan. "So….should we go ahead and contact the others?" She asked him.
"Hmmm...let's give it another day." Hiram smiled to himself. "I have a feeling the three of them will change their minds."
"Alice will NOT change her mind. That woman is more stubborn than I am and that's saying something. And Tom...well, he's always had a good head on his shoulders and he never breaks the rules. I could see FP maybe changing his mind...if it weren't for Alice."
"Trust me, Hermione...I have a good feeling about this." Hiram grinned, taking a sip of his own tea.
A/N: I know this chapter is a little short, but I like where it ended. Please leave reviews!