where was Tori when you wanted her to notice something? “I want to thank you for being so helpful the other morning.”
He gave a little nod but didn’t smile back.
I plowed on. “It was very nice of you to check on us that afternoon too. My sister appreciated your concern.”
“Speaking of your sister—”
My smile tightened to a wince.
“Jenna tells me she arranged for the hair job.”
Uh-oh. His tone of voice made it clear he wasn’t happy with the “hair job.”
At that moment the girls came rushing over.
“Mark and Tim have invited us to come up on their roof to watch the fireworks.” Chloe was so excited she vibrated.
“Philadelphia has big, huge, awesome fireworks because this is where it all started,” Jenna bubbled. “Tim says.”
I glanced at Mark and Tim, sitting in a pair of padded lounge chairs in front of their house. Tori sat on the foot of Mark’s chair, talking animatedly with them. The men each held a plate and were making their way through an impressive mound of food, nodding at Tori’s remarks, pausing in their eating every so often to comment. Mark saw me watching and waved a fork at me. Tori turned, saw Drew beside me, and raised an eyebrow. I made believe I didn’t see it, though I was smugly glad she saw him beside me.
“You’re invited too, Mom.” Chloe, no dummy, picked up on my cautious reaction to the invitation from two men I didn’t know. I was sure Tim and Mark were gay and therefore not interested in Chloe in that sense, but still, I didn’t know them. And this was the city, home of mayhem and murder, one of which I’d already encountered.
“And you too, Dad.” Jenna bent for a soda, and the blond streak that began at the hairline over her left eye and flowed across and down to flip at her chin fell forward over her cheek. She straightened with a bounce, a bottle of root beer in her hand. “They have a clear sightline, and we should bring our own chairs if we want. I don’t think we have chairs, at least not here, but who cares? Everybody comes. Isn’t that cool?”
“Definitely cool,” I agreed. “A real treat!”
Drew grunted something that could have meant anything, but Jenna seemed happy with his response.
With a wave the girls raced off to the food table, where they each grabbed a pack of Butterscotch Krimpets. The prepackaged generation, passing up all the great homemade goodies for assembly-line sweets, though there was no question that such goodies didn’t getany better than Tastykakes. Chloe’s blond hair gleamed in the lights shining up and down the street. The highlighting and the new cut made her look about five years older, a fact that dragged at my heart. I didn’t want her to grow up too fast. I wanted her to enjoy being young with a relatively uncomplicated life.
Drew’s eyes followed his daughter. “Did either of you ever think of asking me what I thought about dying a thirteen-year-old’s hair?”
I glanced over at Tori. I longed to say, “Yell at my sister,” but I didn’t. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Don’t let it happen again”
hung unspoken in the air.
“I think it looks cute,” I said with what I hoped was a charming smile that would defuse the moment.
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “She was cute before. Cuter.”
“Drew, it’s only hair.” Through my years of mothering I’d learned the value of picking your wars. A bit of dye wasn’t worth a war when real issues like sexual purity and dressing decently and telling the truth needed to be addressed.
“My daughter’s hair.”
“It’ll grow out. And I wasn’t home when she had it done.”
As soon as that lame-sounding excuse left my mouth, I could have kicked myself. It was true, but it sounded as if I was defending myself—which I guess I was.
“And if you’d been there?”
“I think I’d have remembered to call.”
He made that grunting sound again. “‘The absent are never without fault, nor the present
He gave a little nod but didn’t smile back.
I plowed on. “It was very nice of you to check on us that afternoon too. My sister appreciated your concern.”
“Speaking of your sister—”
My smile tightened to a wince.
“Jenna tells me she arranged for the hair job.”
Uh-oh. His tone of voice made it clear he wasn’t happy with the “hair job.”
At that moment the girls came rushing over.
“Mark and Tim have invited us to come up on their roof to watch the fireworks.” Chloe was so excited she vibrated.
“Philadelphia has big, huge, awesome fireworks because this is where it all started,” Jenna bubbled. “Tim says.”
I glanced at Mark and Tim, sitting in a pair of padded lounge chairs in front of their house. Tori sat on the foot of Mark’s chair, talking animatedly with them. The men each held a plate and were making their way through an impressive mound of food, nodding at Tori’s remarks, pausing in their eating every so often to comment. Mark saw me watching and waved a fork at me. Tori turned, saw Drew beside me, and raised an eyebrow. I made believe I didn’t see it, though I was smugly glad she saw him beside me.
“You’re invited too, Mom.” Chloe, no dummy, picked up on my cautious reaction to the invitation from two men I didn’t know. I was sure Tim and Mark were gay and therefore not interested in Chloe in that sense, but still, I didn’t know them. And this was the city, home of mayhem and murder, one of which I’d already encountered.
“And you too, Dad.” Jenna bent for a soda, and the blond streak that began at the hairline over her left eye and flowed across and down to flip at her chin fell forward over her cheek. She straightened with a bounce, a bottle of root beer in her hand. “They have a clear sightline, and we should bring our own chairs if we want. I don’t think we have chairs, at least not here, but who cares? Everybody comes. Isn’t that cool?”
“Definitely cool,” I agreed. “A real treat!”
Drew grunted something that could have meant anything, but Jenna seemed happy with his response.
With a wave the girls raced off to the food table, where they each grabbed a pack of Butterscotch Krimpets. The prepackaged generation, passing up all the great homemade goodies for assembly-line sweets, though there was no question that such goodies didn’t getany better than Tastykakes. Chloe’s blond hair gleamed in the lights shining up and down the street. The highlighting and the new cut made her look about five years older, a fact that dragged at my heart. I didn’t want her to grow up too fast. I wanted her to enjoy being young with a relatively uncomplicated life.
Drew’s eyes followed his daughter. “Did either of you ever think of asking me what I thought about dying a thirteen-year-old’s hair?”
I glanced over at Tori. I longed to say, “Yell at my sister,” but I didn’t. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Don’t let it happen again”
hung unspoken in the air.
“I think it looks cute,” I said with what I hoped was a charming smile that would defuse the moment.
He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “She was cute before. Cuter.”
“Drew, it’s only hair.” Through my years of mothering I’d learned the value of picking your wars. A bit of dye wasn’t worth a war when real issues like sexual purity and dressing decently and telling the truth needed to be addressed.
“My daughter’s hair.”
“It’ll grow out. And I wasn’t home when she had it done.”
As soon as that lame-sounding excuse left my mouth, I could have kicked myself. It was true, but it sounded as if I was defending myself—which I guess I was.
“And if you’d been there?”
“I think I’d have remembered to call.”
He made that grunting sound again. “‘The absent are never without fault, nor the present
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