My mom scrunched up her nose as if she smelled something especially rancid. “I hope you’re not thinking of putting that piece in your little apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. It’s not your concern.”

Her spine straightened. “You’ll always be my concern, Isabelle.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Why? It’s your name.”

“I’ve told you repeatedly, I prefer Bell.” But she’d never acquiesced to my requests, just kept right on calling me Isabelle. My father had stopped saying my name altogether, as if by doing so, he wouldn’t have to anger my mother or me. But it just made me painfully sad.

“I named you. And I didn’t name you after something you find in a church steeple or on a bike’s handlebars. I named you Isabelle, which is a beautiful name. I don’t understand why you don’t want to use it.”

“I’ve explained it to you many times, you just don’t want to hear it.” I kept my voice gentle, even though I was feeling anything but. I’d told my parents that I felt like I needed a fresh start. Asked them to call me Bell instead of Isabelle. Even broke down in tears when I explained why. It had gotten me nowhere with her.

My mother huffed. “It’s just childish.”

“Fine, Mom. I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you around. Tell Dad I said hi.”

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

She tugged on the tie of her windbreaker. “Have you heard that Ford Hardy has returned?”

I kept my face a carefully blank mask, not giving away a single hint that her question sent me back more than a decade. To a time when she’d told me that Ford had left and wanted nothing to do with me. I hadn’t believed her, but my unanswered calls and unreturned text messages had proven me wrong. I met my mother’s stare. “Yes.”

“You will not see that boy, Isabelle.”

I let out a strangled laugh, but the sound was ugly and twisted. “Whatever you want, Mother.” I turned and made a beeline for Laney Perkins, ignoring the sound of outrage my mother made as I went. She had no control over me any longer.

“Hey, Bell. How are you?”

“Good, Laney. How much are you asking for the credenza over there?”

Laney winced. “That thing has been sitting in our garage for almost ten years. I should be paying you to take it off my hands.”

I grinned, but it wobbled a bit, still not quite able to shake off my mother’s words. “How about ten bucks, and I’ll come back in an hour or two with a truck?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Can’t wait to see what you turn it into.”

“Hopefully, I can make it beautiful. See you a little later.”