I found her looking in the oven. “How’s it going?”
“Right on schedule.” She stood up and eased the door shut. “I might need an extra set of hands later, though.”
She never asked Tiffany, who had no interest, for help in the kitchen. When I didn’t have schoolwork to do, I usually enjoyed cooking with my mom, and tonight would be even more special. “I just need to shower.”
“How was the beach?” she asked. “You got a tan.”
“Did I?” I inspected my arm. It looked a little red to me. “It was fun. We got milkshakes at the end of the pier after.”
She smiled. “Hope you left room for pie.”
I hadn’t forgotten. Last night, Mom had walked me through making a pie for tonight. I couldn’t wait to see Manning’s reaction. “I’ll come help when I’m ready,” I said.
I went up to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I pushed my regular products aside. Tiffany hid her expensive shampoo and conditioner on the back of the shelf, even though she warned me all the time not to use them, and I never once had . . . until today.
After carefully reading the instructions on the back, I washed my hair twice. Then, I saturated it with conditioner and shaved my legs slowly, carefully, from ankle to upper thigh. After rinsing and toweling off, I used one of Tiffany’s lotions.
I’d never felt so soft and silky. I picked a sundress to show off my smooth skin. Tiffany said having a tan made you look thinner, and she was right.
After checking the hall to make sure Tiffany wasn’t around, I went into her makeup drawer. I’d burned. Not badly, but my face and shoulders were pink. The sun had also darkened the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. I didn’t trust myself with makeup, so I kept it simple with just mascara and pink lip gloss. Despite the redness, or maybe because of it, my eyes seemed bluer. My teeth whiter. And for once, I saw what others did.
I looked like Tiffany.
After washing basil and slicing tomatoes and Mozzarella, I prepared five Caprese salads. Not knowing which would go to Manning, I took extra care to drizzle the olive oil and balsamic vinegar evenly.
“Where is Tiffany?” Mom asked.
I didn’t look up. Didn’t want to lose focus. “Maybe she changed her mind about him. She does that.”
“I hope she would’ve told someone. At least him. Otherwise, we’re in for an uncomfortable dinner.”
I smiled. “Manning’s easy to get along with. It won’t be uncomfortable.”
The front door opened, and Tiffany breezed into the house with paper shopping bags on each arm. “Manning will be here any minute. Is dinner ready?”
“We were afraid you might not make it.” Mom pulled off her oven mitts. “Is that what you’re wearing?”
“Of course not.” Tiffany set the bags on the kitchen table, disrupting a pile of silverware. She pulled out a package. “I got the cutest outfit.” She unwrapped white tissue and held up a short leopard print tube dress. “It’s like what Drew Barrymore wears in the Guess? ad.”
“Oh, that’s darling.” Mom always said stuff like that when Tiffany went shopping. The dress was too skimpy for Mom, but she and Tiffany shared clothes a lot. “It’s not too dressy for tonight?”
Tiffany shoved it all back in the bag. “We’ll probably go somewhere after.”
“Well, wear something over it during dinner. Your dad won’t like that it’s so revealing.”
“Duh. I’m not an amateur,” she said.
“I know, honey,” Mom said as she went to the sink to wash her hands. “Your sister and I have been working on dinner for an hour. Will you set the table?”
Tiffany grabbed her bags. “Mom. I have exactly five minutes to transform myself.”
“Then why’d you wait until the last minute?” I pointed out.
Tiffany stuck out her tongue. “Did you get wine?” she asked Mom. “He might want some with dinner.”
“I got wine.” Mom wiped her hands on her apron. “He can have one glass. No more if he’s taking you out afterward.”
Tiffany flurried out of the kitchen the same way she’d come in, a tornado of crinkling paper bags and blonde hair. Would he really take her out tonight? If so, where would they go? It would be late when dinner ended. Too late for me to go with them, if I’d even be invited. Tiffany and her friends hung out until after midnight on the weekends. They had ways of getting alcohol. It was Thursday, but life was one big weekend to Tiffany. She had no job to get to in the morning, but Manning did. Didn’t that mean anything?
I was straightening my tomatoes when the doorbell rang. My heart stopped.
Mom showed me her oven-mitted hands. “Can you get that, honey?”