“No one can push my buttons like Meghann. She has a true gift for saying exactly the wrong thing.”
“Yeah. My dad was like that. We never could quite make it work between us. Now he’s gone, and I wish we’d tried harder.”
“Okay, Sigmund Freud. I’ll try talking to her. Again.”
“No more aspirin.”
She gave him another long, lingering kiss, then walked naked into the bathroom. By the time she’d finished showering and gotten dressed, he was gone.
She made her bed and walked across the hall to Ali’s room. Her daughter lay in bed, hidden beneath a blue-and-green pile of Little Mermaid sheets and comforters.
“Hey, sweetie,” she said, sitting on the edge of the twin bed. “Time to wake up.”
Alison stretched and rolled onto her back. “Did we get a kitten?”
“No. Why?”
“I thought I heard a kitty meowing this morning.”
Claire bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. Note to self: Come quietly. “Nope, no kitty. You must have been dreaming.”
“An’ I heard someone on the stairs.”
“I … uh … went down to make coffee.”
“Oh. Well, could we get a puppy? Amy Schmidt has one and her mom is ’lergic to dogs.”
“How about a goldfish?”
“Mo-om. The last goldfish got flushed down the toilet.”
“I’ll think about it, okay? Now hurry downstairs. I’m making blueberry pancakes for breakfast.”
Claire went down to start the coffee. By the time Alison came into the kitchen, dragging her Groovy Girl doll behind her, the eggs and pancakes were ready.
Alison climbed up onto her chair, positioned the doll in her lap, and started pouring syrup.
“That’s enough syrup,” Claire said as she flipped another pancake on the Teflon griddle.
“You and Bobby and Aunt Meghann took a shower together last night. How’dya all fit?”
Claire laughed. “It’s not a shower with water. It’s a party for people who are going to be married. You know, like a birthday party.”
“Didja play games?”
“Of course.”
“Get presents?”
“You bet.”
“Like what?”
Thong underwear. Chocolate body paint. A giant box of rubbers. “Aunt Meghann gave us a Cuisinart.” At Ali’s confused look, she added, “It’s a way-cool blender.”
“Oh. Grandpa is taking me fishing today. Up at Tidwell Pond.”
“That’ll be fun.”
“He said you had wedding shit to do.”
“Alison Katherine. You know better than to repeat Grandpa’s bad words.”
“Oops.” Ali bent forward and started licking the syrup off her plate. In no time, it was clean. “Did you know that if you cut a worm in half, it’ll grow back?”
“I did know that.”
She pushed back from her seat. “But Lily France got her finger cut off an’ it didn’t grow back.” She frowned. “I think God likes worms better than Lily. It’s cuz she cuts in line at lunch.”
“Well, I don’t—”
“Bye, Mom!” Alison threw her a kiss and scampered off. The screen door banged shut behind her. A moment later, Claire heard her daughter’s high-pitched voice yell out, “I’m here, Grandpa. Were you lookin’ for me?”
Claire smiled and turned off the griddle, then poured herself a second cup of coffee and went out to the back porch. The slatted swing welcomed her.
She sat there, rocking gently, staring out at the silver curve of water that defined her back property line. The house was set well back from the river, on a rise of safety, but on a day like today, with the sky as blue as forget-me-nots and the grass turning golden from an unexpected week of sunlight, it was almost impossible to remember how dangerous the river could be.
The screen door screeched open and banged shut. Meghann stepped out onto the porch. She wore a fringed black peasant top and flare-legged jeans. Her hair, unbound, fell down her back in a riot of curls. She looked beautiful. “Morning.”
Claire pulled the woolen blanket tighter around her legs, hiding the ratty, torn sweats she’d put on. “You want some pancakes?”
Meg sat down on the wooden Adirondack chair across from the swing. “No, thanks. I’m still trying to metabolize last night’s cake.”
“You sure left the party early.” Claire hoped she sounded casual and not hurt.
“It was a nice party. Your friend Gina has a great sense of humor.”
“Yeah, she does.”
“It must be hard on her—watching your wedding so soon after her own divorce.”
Claire nodded. “She’s going through a really difficult time.”
“It’s always hard to find out you married the wrong man.”
“They were married for fifteen years. Just because they got divorced doesn’t mean he was the wrong man to marry.”
Meg looked at her. “I would say it meant exactly that.”
“Eric really played a number on you, didn’t he?”
“I guess.”