Lovely Girls(13)

“Seriously, we have to get going, especially if you’re going to take a shower first.”

Alex ignored me and continued to pick up balls. I wondered if she’d load them back into the ball machine and start it up again, and if so, how I should react. Parenting had been easier when she was little and I could simply pick her up and carry her off when she refused to leave the playground when it was time to go. What could I do now? Threaten to take away her phone, even though as far as I could tell, she’d cut herself off from all her friends back home? Ground her, even though she never went out? Take away tennis, when it was the only activity she’d continued to show interest in after our lives had been tipped upside down?

But Alex saved me from having to solve that dilemma. She stored the ball machine and basket of balls in a wooden cupboard to one side of the court and then packed up her tennis bag. She was moving far more slowly than necessary, but at least she was coming. After taking her time arranging her rackets in the bag and adjusting her ponytail, she finally strode off the court.

“Let’s go,” she said, walking past me.

“It might actually be fun,” I said.

“I don’t like those girls. You know that.”

I sighed. I did know. I wondered whether I should let Alex stay home and order a pizza while I went to the dinner party by myself. But wouldn’t that make things worse for her, to hide at home? Wouldn’t it give them a sense of power over her?

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll go for a little while, and then if it’s not fun, we’ll go home early,” I suggested. “Deal?”

Alex gave me a long, measured look. “Fine,” she said. “But if this sucks as much as I think it’s going to, will you promise you’ll never make me do anything like this again?”

I nodded. “Deal.”



Emma greeted us at the front door accompanied by a pair of rambunctious golden retrievers. Alex leaned over to pet them, while I accepted a quick, warm hug from Emma. She was wearing a black strapless maxi dress and wore her long brown corkscrew curls loose down her back.

“I’m so glad you came. It’s nice to have some new blood around.” Emma smiled at Alex. “That’s Scout who’s licking your hand, and the other one is Atticus. My older daughter, Alyssa, was reading To Kill a Mockingbird when we got them as puppies. Just push them aside and come on in.”

“Do you have any other children?”

“No, just Shae and Alyssa, who’s away at college. FSU. Probably partying her ass off, but I try not to think about that.”

“We brought you this,” I said, handing a bottle of red wine to Emma as she escorted us into her house.

“Thank you so much! I’m sure we’ll drink it tonight. It doesn’t seem to matter how much wine I buy for these shindigs, we somehow always end up going through all of it. Come on back, everyone’s in the kitchen.”

I glanced nervously at Alex. Was I pushing her too hard, making her socialize before she was ready? Or was it good for her? I had no idea whether I was doing the right thing.

Emma’s kitchen was bright and open, and there was already a small crowd gathered there, consisting of Genevieve, Ingrid, three men, and a lanky blond boy in his early teens who was sitting at the kitchen table playing a game on a computer tablet.

I didn’t recognize two of the men, but the third was Joe Miller. He grinned at me, and I was startled by the flutter of butterflies in my stomach.

“Hi, Kate,” Joe said.

“Hi,” I said brightly.

I caught Emma and Genevieve exchanging a knowing look. Was this a setup? I hoped not. Joe seemed like a nice guy, but I was nowhere near ready to start dating. It was also embarrassing. What if Joe thought I’d asked my new friends to invite him?

Genevieve air-kissed my cheek, and Ingrid smiled a greeting.

“Kate, I’m so glad you came,” Genevieve said. She linked an arm through mine. “This is my husband. Richard, this is our new friend Kate. We like her, so you have to be extra nice.”

Genevieve’s husband was a tall, good-looking man, although I guessed from the silver in his hair and beard and the deep laugh lines by his eyes that he was at least ten years older than his wife.

“I’m always nice,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Sure.” Genevieve laughed. “Right up until you’re not. And this is Emma’s husband, Mark.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Mark said. He was almost exactly the same height as his wife and boyishly handsome, with dark, thick hair and brows and a crooked grin. “Emma’s already raved about you.”

“She did?” I felt absurdly pleased at this. The warm reception was flattering. “This is my daughter, Alex.”

Alex shyly shook hands with the adults.

“And that’s our youngest, Jon,” Genevieve said, gesturing toward the blond boy. He was so mesmerized by his computer game, he didn’t even look up when she said his name. “He’s a nationally ranked fencer in his age group.”

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I said.

“His coach thinks he has the potential to make the Olympic team one day,” Genevieve said. “Jon, put that down and come say hello.”

“Good luck with that,” Richard said. “I think it’s surgically attached to his hand.”