Madeline was up and puttering around the kitchen when Libby came in. She smiled sleepily and stretched her arms high overhead. She was wearing one of Luke’s T-shirts that came to mid-thigh.
“How are things?” she asked, yawning.
“Good,” Libby said. “Tony is going to stick around for a couple of days to get the cars going. He’s bunking with Ernest.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Madeline said absently. She poured herself a cup of coffee and walked into the living room, a magazine tucked under her arm.
Libby was sorting laundry when her phone rang. She picked it up, looked at the display, and smiled. “Hello, sweetie,” she answered.
“Hi, Libby, it’s Alice!”
“I know! Why aren’t you at school?” she asked curiously, looking at the clock. When Alice had begun calling her a couple of weeks ago, Libby had been suspicious, but Alice had told her twice that her father had given her permission. Libby hadn’t understood why Ryan would do that, but now, it all made sense. He was allowing Alice to rekindle the relationship she’d lost with Libby, because he intended to apologize and allow Libby to see the kids.
“It’s Teacher Day. Daddy’s taking us to the movies when he comes home.”
“Oh yeah? What are you doing now?” Libby asked, wondering where Gwen was.
“Watching cartoons. So is Max. We’re watching SpongeBob SquarePants.”
“I love SpongeBob,” Libby said wistfully. “I miss you, Alice. I hope we get to see each other soon,” she said as she wandered into the dining room.
“I told Daddy I want to go to your house and he said okay.”
“He did?”
“He said maybe in a few days.”
Libby frowned a little. “Alice? You know you should always tell the truth, right?”
“I am!” Alice insisted.
That confused Libby. Had the man who had said she was too lenient, was turning his kids into monsters, really had such a change of heart? While Libby couldn’t wait to see Alice and Max, everything seemed so sudden. It made her feel uncomfortable. “Well, I can’t wait,” she said to Alice, her mind racing.
“I’m taking dance lessons!” Alice said suddenly.
“I know! Do you like your teacher?”
“Yes. Her name’s Miss Janie, and I’m going to be a butterfly in the recycle!”
“Recital,” Libby laughingly corrected her. “A butterfly! How cool is that? Are you going to have a costume?”
“Mommy said she was going to try and make me one. But she doesn’t really know how.”
Libby could imagine that was true. Gwen had never struck her as the crafty type. “Maybe I could make one for you,” she suggested, realizing, even as she spoke, that it was the wrong thing to say. “I mean, if your mom agrees,” she quickly added. “Anyway, I bet you’ll be the best butterfly in the recital.”
“You can make my costume!” Alice eagerly agreed. “You just have to get the wings.”
Libby laughed. “Where do I get wings?”
“At the store. I want to be a purple butterfly.”
“A purple butterfly, how pretty,” Libby said. She sat down in a chair that was up against a wall and fixed her gaze on the wallpaper in front of her, on the corner that had begun to peel away from the wall. “Is Max there? May I speak to him?”
“Sure,” Alice said. She put down the phone on her end, but Libby heard her yell at her brother and tell him to come to the phone. Then she heard Alice say, “It’s Libby.”
“Hi,” Max said. At six years old, he was not the least bit garrulous, particularly on the phone.
“Hi, Max!” Libby said. “What are you doing?”
“Watching TV. We’re not supposed to. We’re supposed to be cleaning our rooms.”
“Oh . . . where’s your mommy?” Libby asked curiously.
“I dunno. Here’s Alice,” he said, and then he was gone.
“Libby, did you go to the hospital?” Alice said. “Daddy said you went to a hospital.”
The question startled Libby; she’d not thought of what she’d tell the kids, and in a moment of decisiveness, opted for honesty. “Yes, I did. But that was a few weeks ago, and I’m okay now.”
“What was wrong with you?”
“Well . . . I was really, really tired.”
“Is that why you can’t come to my house? Because you hit Daddy’s truck with a golf club?”
Libby winced. “That’s part of it. Hey, are you practicing your dance every day like the teacher said?”
“Yes. Are you going to come see the recycle?”
“I’ll try my best, Alice,” Libby said sincerely. “I really miss you, and I love you. And I can’t wait to see you.”
“Okay. I love you, too. I have to go. Bye!” Alice said cheerfully, and the phone went dead.
Libby clicked her phone off and sank back in the chair, her head resting against the wall, her gaze fixed on the peeling wallpaper. She could almost smell Alice’s hair, could almost see the smudges of dirt on Max’s face. That Ryan was allowing her to call—
“Libby?”