be.”
“The point is, there are lots of ways to get people involved with their cameras, which means they’re involved with Piccadilly Photo, right?”
“Right. How have I stayed in business this long without you?”
I grinned at him. “It’s a mystery.”
He was silent for so long, I figured he was planning out his marketing campaign. I’d actually finished polishing up the longest display case, which ran down the side of the shop, when he spoke again.
“What was that you said about your mother?”
I stopped. “Huh?” My arm ached, so I switched the rag to the other hand.
“You said something about your dad having sense, but you didn’t know what your mother was thinking. What was that about?”
I ducked down and began at the bottom of the next case. “Nothing.”
“I think it is something.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have a long evening ahead of us. Punctuated, one hopes, by the arrival of customers.”
I sighed. “Philip, you can’t possibly be interested in my boring problems or my boring family.”
“Since the latter managed to produce a fine young woman despite what you say, I think I’m very interested. Provided you want to tell me. You can always just ask me to mind my own business.”
I’d never been very good about keeping things to myself. I’d always had someone around to talk things over with—Papa, my mother, Alana. Even now I talked to Shani more than anyone—just not about family business. But Philip was different. He was an adult. He’d been around. And best of all, he was completely separate from the rest of my life.
So I told him. About the divorce, about us kids living in three different cities, about our family going from one big happy Mexican-American hive to all these rootless little satellites, their orbits intersecting only once in a while.
“And now my mom tells me she’s engaged to this doofus who lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He put a diamond ring in her dessert last weekend. Be still, my heart. She wants me and my sister, Alana, to be her bridesmaids.”
“And will you?” Philip took a rag and squirted Windex on the other side of the cabinet I was working on.
“Are you kidding? The last thing I want to do is stand there in a big poofy dress, watching her vow to love, honor, and cherish. She didn’t do that for my father, did she?”
“Maybe she did, in the beginning.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to a marriage than the beginning. There’s the middle, too.”
“That is the hard part.”
“My dad isn’t hard to live with. He’s never there, for one thing.”
“Which may have contributed to the problem.”
Both of us were crouched down, looking at each other over the Canons as we polished the panels of glass. “What do you mean?”
“It’s difficult to love, honor, and cherish someone who isn’t there.”
“They could talk on the phone. Or IM or something.”
“People do grow apart. Maybe that’s what happened.”
I caught my reflection in a metal strip and tried to smooth out the grumpy frown lines in my forehead. “How can you know that?”
“I don’t, of course. But possibly you don’t know the whole story, either. I’d want to shield my children from as much as possible, if it were me.”
I looked up. “Do you have kids?”
“One son. He’s a teacher in Vermont.”
“And your wife?”
“Gone.”
“Gone how?”
I’d meant divorced, left, whatever, but he said simply, “In the usual way. She passed in 1985, when Kimball was still a child.”
The smell of ammonia went up my nose. I realized my hand was pressed to my mouth, as if it were preventing one more whiny, complaining word from coming out of it. “Oh, Philip. I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too.”
“I didn’t mean to go on about my dumb stuff when you’ve had worse things happen.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to hear about your ‘stuff.’ You might think about doing this thing for your mother, Carly. I can tell you from
“The point is, there are lots of ways to get people involved with their cameras, which means they’re involved with Piccadilly Photo, right?”
“Right. How have I stayed in business this long without you?”
I grinned at him. “It’s a mystery.”
He was silent for so long, I figured he was planning out his marketing campaign. I’d actually finished polishing up the longest display case, which ran down the side of the shop, when he spoke again.
“What was that you said about your mother?”
I stopped. “Huh?” My arm ached, so I switched the rag to the other hand.
“You said something about your dad having sense, but you didn’t know what your mother was thinking. What was that about?”
I ducked down and began at the bottom of the next case. “Nothing.”
“I think it is something.”
“It’s a long story.”
“We have a long evening ahead of us. Punctuated, one hopes, by the arrival of customers.”
I sighed. “Philip, you can’t possibly be interested in my boring problems or my boring family.”
“Since the latter managed to produce a fine young woman despite what you say, I think I’m very interested. Provided you want to tell me. You can always just ask me to mind my own business.”
I’d never been very good about keeping things to myself. I’d always had someone around to talk things over with—Papa, my mother, Alana. Even now I talked to Shani more than anyone—just not about family business. But Philip was different. He was an adult. He’d been around. And best of all, he was completely separate from the rest of my life.
So I told him. About the divorce, about us kids living in three different cities, about our family going from one big happy Mexican-American hive to all these rootless little satellites, their orbits intersecting only once in a while.
“And now my mom tells me she’s engaged to this doofus who lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He put a diamond ring in her dessert last weekend. Be still, my heart. She wants me and my sister, Alana, to be her bridesmaids.”
“And will you?” Philip took a rag and squirted Windex on the other side of the cabinet I was working on.
“Are you kidding? The last thing I want to do is stand there in a big poofy dress, watching her vow to love, honor, and cherish. She didn’t do that for my father, did she?”
“Maybe she did, in the beginning.”
“Yeah, well, there’s more to a marriage than the beginning. There’s the middle, too.”
“That is the hard part.”
“My dad isn’t hard to live with. He’s never there, for one thing.”
“Which may have contributed to the problem.”
Both of us were crouched down, looking at each other over the Canons as we polished the panels of glass. “What do you mean?”
“It’s difficult to love, honor, and cherish someone who isn’t there.”
“They could talk on the phone. Or IM or something.”
“People do grow apart. Maybe that’s what happened.”
I caught my reflection in a metal strip and tried to smooth out the grumpy frown lines in my forehead. “How can you know that?”
“I don’t, of course. But possibly you don’t know the whole story, either. I’d want to shield my children from as much as possible, if it were me.”
I looked up. “Do you have kids?”
“One son. He’s a teacher in Vermont.”
“And your wife?”
“Gone.”
“Gone how?”
I’d meant divorced, left, whatever, but he said simply, “In the usual way. She passed in 1985, when Kimball was still a child.”
The smell of ammonia went up my nose. I realized my hand was pressed to my mouth, as if it were preventing one more whiny, complaining word from coming out of it. “Oh, Philip. I’m so sorry.”
“I am, too.”
“I didn’t mean to go on about my dumb stuff when you’ve had worse things happen.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I wanted to hear about your ‘stuff.’ You might think about doing this thing for your mother, Carly. I can tell you from
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