The New Husband by D.J. Palmer Page A

which was plugged into the charging station at the little desk in the kitchen, because, you know, he lived here, too. I saw him frown as he checked his device. What could it be? I wondered.
    â€œTwo weeks, you said?”
    â€œYeah,” Mom said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
    â€œWell—” Simon lowered his gaze. “I was going to surprise you, but—hang on a second.”
    And with that he left the room, giving Connor and me a chance to hug Mom and congratulate her some more. Even Daisy got in a few licks. I was extra excited, overjoyed about the news. I knew what Dad had done with our money, and why I’d been getting my clothes from a consignment store instead of the mall. But I also knew that money could buy freedom, as well as stuff, and with Mom having a job, she might not feel so dependent on Simon to keep a roof over our heads.
    Simon returned to the kitchen holding a glossy brochure in his hand.
    â€œI booked us a trip to Niagara Falls for that week,” he said glumly. “Thursday through Sunday at the Sheraton, with views of the waterfall. I got an incredible deal, so I jumped on it. I was going to surprise you all tomorrow night.”
    â€œYou did what?” Mom looked completely surprised.
    â€œNiagara Falls,” Simon said, handing over the brochure. “I knew Connor couldn’t come because of football, but I figured he could stay with Luke or Joe for a few days.”
    I didn’t like that Simon knew the names of Connor’s best friends. It was like he had taken another piece of our family for himself. My guess, if Connor had to pick between Joe and Luke, he’d pick Luke, because Luke’s dad was into duck hunting and he sometimes took Connor with him, something I thought was totally gross. I mean, what did a cute little duck ever do to them?
    â€œSince Maggie’s not playing lacrosse right now,” Simon continued, “I thought she could miss a few days of school, and we could have a little adventure together.” He made a sighing sound. “Try to smooth over some of our rough patches. I already arranged it with the principal, but anyway, it conflicts with your start date, so I’ll undo it. No problem.”
    But I could tell Mom thought there was a problem.
    â€œI’ll call the center,” she said quickly. “Tell them I need to start the week after. I’m sure it’s no big deal.”
    â€œNo, no,” Simon said, brushing off that suggestion with a wave of his hands. “That’s not a good way to begin. Don’t worry about it. We’ll find another time to take a trip. I’m just really happy for you, and proud. It takes a lot of courage to put yourself out there, especially after everything you’ve gone through. They’re lucky to have you.”
    Simon leaned in to give Mom a kiss on the lips, which I saw only because I didn’t look away in time. Knowing Mom the way I do, I could tell she was feeling exceptionally guilty over a trip she’d known nothing about, especially because it would’ve involved making things better between him and me. What should have been a big moment forher, a rare happy occasion for my mom to celebrate, was now about Simon and how she had let him down.
    It was so unfair I wanted to scream, “Can you please just let this one thing be about Mom?” But something else was knocking at the back of my head. I have a good memory for dates. It’s a by-product of being a student athlete: you always need to be aware of potential schedule conflicts, and I was pretty sure there was some other conflict that had nothing to do with the start date of Mom’s new job.
    I excused myself from the table and went upstairs to have a look at my school calendar. And there it was. In print. Clear as day. The big field trip to Strawbery Banke, the one Simon led every year, the one he went to in costume, with that rusty musket of his, fell on the same day