Jude drew in a deep and steadying breath.
She was seated at the dinner table, with her family gathered around her. It was a Friday night in early October; the sky was the color of bruised plums.
“Well?” Zach said from his place at the table. “Can we go or not? Molly and Tim are letting Bryson go.”
Mia was beside her brother. Her blond hair had been braided wet and dried into crimpy zigzags. In the past three years, she had blossomed into a true beauty, with flawless skin and a smile that was marquee bright. Her friendship with Lexi had stayed as true as magnetic North, and it had given Mia a new confidence. Her daughter still wasn’t brave or extremely social, but she was happy, and that meant the world to Jude. “What about you, Mia? Do you want to go to this party?”
Mia shrugged. “Zach wants to go.”
It was the answer Jude had expected. They were a pair, these two, in every way. Where one went, the other followed; it had been that way from the moment of their birth and probably before. One could hardly breathe without the other.
“Did you hear that, Miles?” Jude said. “The kids want to go to a party at Kevin Eisner’s house.”
“Is there a problem with that?” Miles asked, pouring hollandaise sauce on his grilled asparagus.
“The Eisners are in Paris, if I’m not mistaken,” Jude said, seeing the twins flinch in unison. “Small island,” she reminded them.
“Kevin’s aunt is there, though,” Zach said. “It’s not like no adult is around.”
“Totally,” Mia added, nodding.
Jude sat back. She’d known this moment was coming, of course. She’d been a teenager herself, and senior year was the Holy Grail of teenhood. So, she knew what it meant when seniors wanted to “party.”
She’d had endless conversations with the kids about alcohol, told them repeatedly how dangerous it could be, and they swore not to be interested in drinking, but she wasn’t a fool. Neither was she the kind of woman who pretended her children were perfect. What mattered to her was protecting them from the risks associated with adolescence, even those of their own making.
She could say no. But they might defy her, and wouldn’t they be more in danger then? “I’ll call Kevin’s aunt,” she said slowly. “Make sure an adult is supervising the party.”
“Oh my God,” Mia whined, “way to totally humiliate us. We’re not children.”
“Really, Mom,” Zach said. “You know you can trust us. I’d never drink and drive.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d promise never to drink,” she said.
He looked at her. “I might drink one beer. It won’t kill me. You want me to lie to you? I thought that wasn’t how we rolled in this family.”
Her own words thrown back at her, and with deadly accuracy. The price for honesty with your kids was that often you learned what you’d rather not. The way Jude saw it, there were two parenting choices: ask for honesty and try to roll with unwanted truths or stick your head in the sand and be lied to. Zach’s honesty was a reason to trust him. “I’ll think about it,” she said in a forceful enough voice to end the conversation.
The rest of the meal passed quickly. As soon as they cleared the table, the kids put the dishes in the dishwasher and then ran upstairs.
Jude knew they were getting ready for the party. They assumed victory—she’d seen it in their eyes.
“I don’t know,” she said to Miles. They stood side by side at the picture window, staring out at the darkening night. The Sound had turned graphite and the sky was a deep bronze color. “How do we stop them from drinking and keep them safe?”