Introduction
************************
Aos quarenta e três anos, Helen está recém-divorciada e tentando se encontrar. Pela primeira vez na vida, ela não está sob o controle de um homem. Com um pai ausente, um meio-irmão abusivo e um ex-marido manipulador, ela teve a tríade perfeita de homens ruins.
Além de aprender a viver a vida por conta própria, ela está tentando ajudar seus três filhos. Jaxon está lutando com sua sexualidade. Jolene está descobrindo que seu casamento perfeito está longe de ser perfeito. JD está apenas tentando terminar o ensino médio e entrar na Marinha.
Aos cinquenta e dois anos, Owen Reese retornou à sua cidade natal após vinte anos na Marinha. Ele iniciou um pequeno negócio que o tornou milionário ao longo da última década. Com sua própria filha adulta e vivendo sua própria vida, ele pensou que seus dias de paternidade haviam acabado. Mas agora ele está criando sua sobrinha de dezesseis anos enquanto sua irmã está em missão com Médicos Sem Fronteiras.
E agora, a recepcionista fofa e cheinha do escritório de seu contador está em todos os lugares que ele olha. Não que ele esteja reclamando; ele está louco para colocar as mãos naquelas coxas de sereia adoráveis e exuberantes que assombram seus sonhos.
Nada parece dar certo para eles. Todas as suas muitas irmãs estão constantemente interferindo. Seus filhos se preocupam tanto com ela que chegam a ser quase obsessivos. E ela só quer ser feliz. E mais magra.
Aviso: inclui um relacionamento abusivo
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About Author

amy worcester
Chapter 1
Um diamante é um pedaço de carvão que se saiu bem sob pressão. - Henry Kissinger*
Helen sabia que tinha acabado. Muito antes de seu marido dizer que tinha acabado. Ela sabia sobre as outras mulheres. E seus outros filhos.
Ela não era idiota. Quando as crianças eram mais novas, ela apenas fingia que tudo estava bem. Conforme cresciam, sabiam que não estava. O mais novo, JD, agora estava no último ano e não dava para esconder.
Bob tinha se mudado sete meses atrás. Ele ligava para as crianças regularmente, mas ela não sabia se conversavam ou não. Não era toda culpa dele. Ela não era inocente em deixar o casamento deles desmoronar.
Ela não tinha um amante e uma segunda família escondida. Mas ela era tão culpada quanto.
Quando se casaram há vinte e quatro anos, ela não era pequena, mas também não era tão grande. Três filhos, problemas de tireoide e baixa autoestima acrescentaram cem quilos.
O alarme no corredor disparou, avisando que JD estava acordado. Era quarta-feira, o que significava que ele tinha uma corrida semanal com os outros recrutas da Marinha. Ela o ouviu passar por sua rotina matinal e depois as chaves dele tilintaram quando saiu.
Depois que Bob saiu, Helen não conseguiu mais acompanhar a hipoteca e teve que vender a casa. Depois de pagar a hipoteca, eles dividiram o que restou, de acordo com o decreto de divórcio e a lei estadual. Bob havia dado uma entrada em uma nova casa para sua nova família. Helen pagou pelo seu carro de segunda mão e ela e JD se mudaram para o apartamento de dois quartos.
Com seu salário semanal, ela conseguia pagar suas contas, alimentar a si mesma e ao poço sem fundo de um filho adolescente e ainda sobrava o suficiente para seu único luxo.
Suas unhas.
A moça no salão de unhas sempre reservava seu horário de sábado de manhã para ela. No sábado de manhã, às 9h45, Helen estaria sentada na cadeira de massagem com os pés na pequena banheira. Bian escolheria uma cor e não deixaria Helen ver até que tudo estivesse pronto. Arte nas unhas e tudo mais.
Os oitenta dólares poderiam ser gastos de forma mais sábia. Mas ela gostava do tempo para si mesma. Um pouco de mimo e ela poderia encarar mais uma semana.
Levantando da cama, ela foi para o único banheiro. Isso tinha sido uma grande mudança. Mas agora estavam se saindo bem.
Ela sentia falta da grande banheira. Entrando sob o jato do chuveiro, duvidava que conseguiria entrar nessa banheira. Se fosse honesta, entrar não seria o problema. Sair? Isso provavelmente exigiria óleo. E um guindaste. Possivelmente bombeiros.
Rindo com o pensamento, ela se perguntou se conseguiria os bombeiros bonitos do TikTok.
Ela lavou o cabelo e aplicou o condicionador para agir enquanto se lavava. Uma vez que se considerou limpa, enxaguou o corpo e o cabelo. Então saiu e usou uma toalha de praia para se secar.
JD a convencera a comprá-las quando descobriu que o condomínio tinha uma piscina. Ela NÃO iria para a piscina. Não de maiô. Não com uma canga. Nem mesmo em uma tenda de circo. Isso não ia acontecer.
Mas ela gostava do fato de poder se envolver na toalha. Penteando o cabelo, deixou-o pendurado em suas costas para secar. Olhando no espelho, viu a si mesma e novamente não culpou Bob por partir.
Um metro e sessenta e dois centímetros e cento e dezoito quilos. Cabelo castanho-claro com traços de cinza. Olhos castanhos claros viam tudo. Bochechas muito redondas. Linhas de riso e pés de galinha.
Braços flácidos. Barriga grande. Coxas que não apenas se tocavam, Helen frequentemente se perguntava se ela era parte sereia. Sim, ela definitivamente poderia ser confundida com uma sereia. Ou pelo menos um peixe-boi.
Ela terminou sua maquiagem e secou o cabelo antes de se vestir. Era início de agosto e ela já estava com calor de manhã cedo. Apenas mais uma razão para Bob partir. Menopausa, embora seu médico a chamasse de perimenopausa. Ela não via diferença.
O vestido que escolheu era marrom dourado e tinha folhas de outono multicoloridas. Brincos simples de argola dourada e a pulseira que seus filhos lhe deram eram as únicas joias que ela usava. Já havia passado mais de seis meses desde que tirou sua aliança de casamento, ela ainda não estava acostumada a não usar um anel.
Pegando um casaco e seu almoço na geladeira, Helen saiu sob a luz da manhã e começou sua viagem de ônibus de trinta minutos para o escritório onde trabalhava desde que seu casamento acabou.
Os novos proprietários do prédio onde trabalhava estariam lá hoje. Pelo menos não estavam eliminando sua posição de recepcionista.
Ainda.
Ela sabia que um dos advogados de uma das empresas queria que ela saísse. A mulher constantemente reclamava sobre a recepcionista gorda que poderia ser substituída por um segurança. Ou por um quiosque.
Como se Helen não soubesse que era gorda, a mulher que corria maratonas nos fins de semana gostava de deixá-la saber.
Ela realmente queria responder à mulher. Helen sempre tinha uma resposta inteligente, que nunca era dita.
"Eu tenho um espelho, sim, vejo o quão gorda estou."
"Mesmo? Meu Deus! É por isso que tenho que comprar tamanho 2X?"
"Fico tão feliz que você me disse. Só tive esse corpo por quarenta e três anos, nunca soube que era gorda."
"Isso porque tenho mais personalidade do que você. Eu a mantenho escondida entre minhas dobras de gordura."
Helen frequentemente se perguntava qual seria a reação da mulher se dissesse algo. Mas ela gostava de seu emprego. Ainda mais, gostava dos benefícios de seu emprego. Você sabe, aqueles como poder pagar o aluguel. Então seus comentários ficavam em sua mente por trás de seu sorriso. Enquanto esperava e rezava para que suas lágrimas não caíssem.
Chegando ao prédio, Helen preparou os três bares de café no grande saguão. As persianas foram abertas ligeiramente para permitir a entrada da luz da manhã. Então ela se acomodou em sua mesa e ligou o computador.
Vinte minutos depois das oito, ela foi chamada para o escritório dos supervisores do prédio. Sorrindo nervosamente, ela se sentou na cadeira que ele indicou.
“Helen, quero que saiba que a maioria aqui está chateada com isso. Os proprietários estão eliminando sua posição. Mas um dos escritórios lá em cima gostaria de falar com você.”
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About Author

amy worcester
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