She settled across from the girls who were huddled together, shoulders touching, identical fearful expressions in their eyes.
“I saw your dad today,” she began. “He really misses both of you and said to tell you how much he loves you.”
“Did you tell him about Bettina?” Melissa asked.
“I did. He was angry and hurt, but so proud of you for taking care of your sister. I explained how you got in touch with me and he was really impressed.”
Melissa looked both pleased and afraid. “He’s not coming home, is he?”
Liz reached across the table and took their hands in hers. “No, honey, he’s not. He’s going to be at Folsom for a while longer.” She drew in a breath. “I’m going to be taking care of you.”
Abby and Melissa exchanged another glance.
“I want to see my dad,” Abby said.
“In a couple weeks we’ll go for a visit. And your dad said he’d write you.”
They both nodded. Abby’s eyes filled with tears. Before Liz could go to her, she pushed back her chair and ran up the stairs.
“I’ll talk to her,” Melissa declared, sounding far older than fourteen.
Liz wanted to ask who would take care of Melissa, but knew this wasn’t the time. Damn Bettina, whoever she was, and Roy for getting in trouble in the first place. He’d been impulsive when he’d been younger and it didn’t sound like that had changed. Unfortunately, now his daughters had to pay the price.
She checked on the chicken, then went through the list of snack foods she’d bought. There were different cheeses, some frozen bruschetta she would heat after the chicken was done, chips, salsa, avocados for guacamole. She’d bought boxes of crackers, various cookies, the ingredients for a quick seven-layer bean dip and a presliced veggie plate. If Pia and her friends wanted something fancier, they were going to have to give Liz more than four hours’ notice.
She climbed the stairs and went into the master bedroom. She kept her clothes here and shared the master bath with her son. After going through the few items of clothing she’d brought with her, she picked a dark green wrap shirt made out of one of those amazing fabrics that never wrinkled. She changed her shirt, decided her jeans were fine, and replaced her Ryka walking shoes with cute flat sandals.
Tyler and Abby walked into the bedroom. The young girl looked a little puffy around the eyes, but otherwise fine.
“We’re going to get the movies,” Tyler announced. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“Sure.” She gave him a twenty and smiled at Abby. “You’d probably like something funny for tonight.”
Her niece nodded, then barreled toward Liz and threw herself into her embrace. Liz hugged her tightly.
“I know it’s scary right now,” she whispered. “But I’m going to take care of you.”
Abby nodded and stepped back.
“We’ll be right back,” Tyler called as they headed for the stairs.
“Get something funny,” Liz yelled after him from the doorway.
“Oh, Mom.”
Liz grinned and returned to the bedroom.
She pinned back her hair, then washed her face before smoothing on moisturizer. Melissa inched into the bedroom.
“Abby’s better,” she said. “This is hard on her.”
“On you, too.”
Melissa shrugged.
Liz opened her zipped cosmetic bag. She pulled out concealer and smoothed the cream under her eyes, then blended with her ring finger. The mineral base she used went on next. When she’d covered her freckles and blended the color, she dug in the bag for her eye shadow.
“How do you know what to do?” Melissa asked. “I bought some makeup at the drugstore. You know, before. I couldn’t get it right. Plus, I didn’t like how that liquid stuff felt on my skin.”
Liz glanced at her niece. At fourteen Melissa was old enough to wear some makeup. At least mascara and a little lip gloss. The girl’s skin was smooth and had that glow older women spent a fortune trying to duplicate.
“A base is for smoothing out the color of your skin and hiding imperfections,” Liz told her. “Your skin is practically perfect.”
“Unless I get a zit.”
“They happen. As for the rest of it, I learned by doing, mostly. We can practice together this weekend. The basics aren’t hard.”
“Really?” Melissa looked both hopeful and almost afraid. As if anticipating anything good was a mistake.
“Sure.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Liz dug around in her bag again and pulled out a tube of gloss. “In the meantime, try this. It’s one of my favorites.”
Melissa took the container and turned it over in her hand. “Sugar cookie?”
“Oh, yeah. It looks good and tastes better. Sometimes it’s very cool to be a girl.”
CHAPTER EIGHT