By My Side

Seeing no sign of potential BMW owners, Phoebe felt herself relax, just a little. Running up the remaining stair steps, she knocked on Mrs. Stout's apartment door, eager to see Jake and ensure his safety.

The door didn't open right away, but Phoebe could hear the scuffling of slippers moving over the linoleum flooring. After a few moments, the door swung open revealing a surprised looking Mrs. Stouts wrapped in a fuzzy pink robe.

"Why, Phoebe. What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"

"What am I doing here?" repeated Phoebe with a nervous laugh. "I came to pick up Jake. Where is he hiding?" she asked trying to see around the large woman to locate her son.

"I thought you knew," Mrs. Stouts replied with slight confusion.

"Knew? Knew what?" Phoebe demanded, beginning to feel the earlier fear return to her chest.

"Well, they said that you knew and were fine with them taking little Jake," Mrs. Stouts explained.

Phoebe paused for a moment, the fear causing her breath to catch. "Who said?" she whispered, fearing she already knew the answer.

"Jake's grandparents, of course."

"Jake's grand..." Phoebe froze, her heart beating so heard in her chest that she almost couldn't breathe.

"Yes, they took him to your apartment. I gave them the extra key that you left with me in case of an emergency. I hope you don't mind," Mrs. Stouts said with a concerned expression on her face.

Not able to reply even if she had wanted to, Phoebe quickly turned away and dashed down the short hallway towards her own apartment. Not stopping or slowing down, she flew through the doorway and came face to face with Mr. and Mrs. Kensington, her ex-husband's parents. They were just as she had remembered them. Cool, detached and completely void of all normal caring behaviors. Nothing like the grandparents she had once dreamt of having for Jake's sake.

They looked as out of place standing by her sagging couch as a diamond would look among a bed of rocks. Both were wearing designer suits and Rolex wrist watches that probably cost more money that she could make in a year.

"Well, Phoebe? Aren't you going to say something?" sniped Laura Kensington in a cool tone meant to put Phoebe in her place.

Phoebe felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Still in a state of shock, she started towards Jake's room, only to be detained by Laura's snappish tone once again.

"Jake is just fine. He is sleeping in his bed. A bed which, in my opinion, belongs in a trash heap, not a young boy's bedroom But, I guess that is probably the best a person in your position can afford," Laura conveyed with her cool smile still firmly in place.

"What do you mean, 'my position'?" Phoebe whispered, afraid of the answer.

"Well, you did just lose one of your jobs and you barely make enough to pay the rent every month, let alone put food in my grandson's mouth."

"How did you...where did you hear that?" Phoebe croaked.

"We have our ways, my dear," Laura laughed as though the question were a silly one.

Phoebe moved into the kitchen and put her purse down on the chipped counter top. After taking a deep breath, she turned back around to face the arctic chill.

"Can I get either of you anything to drink?" she asked trying to sound more friendly than she felt.

"A hot toddy would be nice, but I don't suppose you keep those on hand. Not with your salary. I suppose a glass of water would be fine." Laura did all of the talking, as usual. During her brief marriage to their son, Laura had always been the one in charge. The ruler of the roost, so to speak.