True Places(22)

Brynn jumped up in alarm when Suzanne opened the door, not having expected her so soon. Suzanne explained Iris’s condition.

“That sucks.” Brynn sounded sincere.

“It does.”

Brynn seemed to have abandoned her resentment over the failures of her teammate and her mother. Suzanne strove to reinforce this positive shift. “Anything special you’d like for dinner?”

“Not really. By the way, Grammy Tins is taking me to DC tomorrow to go shopping for prom.”

Suzanne’s voice caught in her throat. “I thought you and I were going to do that in town next weekend.”

“DC kind of trumps Charlottesville, Mom.”

“Well, if you really wanted to go to DC, you could’ve said.”

“And you could’ve offered. But now you don’t have to, because Grammy Tins did.” She gathered her hair into a loose twist and snapped a hair band over it, letting it flop. “Besides, my style is closer to Grammy’s anyway.”

Suzanne squeezed the steering wheel. She half expected Brynn to add, “Not that you have a style.” She had pointed it out before. Suzanne could hardly defend herself, because it was true. She didn’t care that much, so for important events—or events that were deemed important—she let Tinsley choose for her. Her mother always chose well. That Brynn had uninvited her from what should have been a mother-daughter shopping trip left Suzanne feeling hollowed out and expendable. But practically speaking, Brynn was right; she and Suzanne would have ended up arguing over the dress (too tight, too short, too expensive) and the shoes (too high, far too high), so maybe it was for the best. She wouldn’t say it, though, because if she happily abdicated everything to Tinsley or whomever else her daughter chose, she would cease to be Brynn’s mother. She would never be necessary again. It might have already happened; the answers to most of life’s pressing questions could simply be googled.

They drove the short distance home in silence. Suzanne parked in the drive, opened the hatch, and waited for Brynn to retrieve her bag. The front door of the house opened. A man about thirty years old strode down the front walk, a perturbed look on his face. He beeped open the car at the curb, slammed the door, and drove off.

Brynn closed the hatch. “Who was that?”

“No idea.”

Suzanne went inside, Brynn at her heels, and followed Whit’s raised voice into the living room, where Reid sat in the corner of the couch, feet flat on the floor, arms crossed, staring straight ahead, appearing almost bored. The only thing that gave away his strong emotion was his rapid blinking.

Whit, barely holding his temper, paced behind him.

“What’s going on?” Suzanne said.

“Reid, please tell your mother what that gentleman wanted.”

Reid spoke without turning to her. “To buy my car.”

She approached him. “Your car? Why?”

“I don’t use it, so I’m selling it.”

Suzanne looked at her husband.

He nodded and spread his hands in frustration. “Unbelievable, right? On Craigslist.”

Brynn laughed. “Nice.”

Suzanne sank into a chair and regarded her son. “Reid. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I didn’t want a car in the first place. I told you guys that. So I decided to sell it.”

Suzanne avoided eye contact with Whit. He’d been convinced that Reid would change his mind once he had a car of his own. Suzanne had bet he wouldn’t. He was principled and idealistic and clear in his beliefs—traits Suzanne admired in him. Whit would have admired these traits, too, if they had not interfered with what he wanted for his son: to be more like other boys, to be athletic and popular, to have some swagger and be cool. Reid was not cool.

Whit glared at his son, incredulous. “You think you have the right to sell that car without asking?”

Reid swiveled to face him. “It’s mine, isn’t it? You gave it to me.”

Brynn flopped down on the opposite end of the couch, grinning, thumbs moving over the screen of her phone.

Reid scowled at her. “More fodder for your coven?”

“Yup.” She took his photo. He gave her the middle finger.

Suzanne said, “Stop it, both of you. Reid, did you have plans for the money?”

Whit interrupted. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not selling the car. He doesn’t have our permission.”

“I’d like to know.” Her voice was quiet, calm. Inside, sadness and frustration soured her stomach.

“Donate it to charity.” Reid and Brynn spoke at the same time.

“Oh, snap!” Brynn bounced in her seat. Suzanne hadn’t seen her this animated in weeks.

Reid said, “I hadn’t decided which one.”

“Losers Anonymous?”

“Enough.” Whit came to stand beside Suzanne’s chair. “The title’s not in your name, Reid. How were you planning to handle that?”

Reid looked at his mother. Suzanne knew the title was in her name; so did he. Did he really think she would let him sell it without discussion, without his father knowing? Reid was making a point, but she wasn’t sure what it was. She leaned forward, as if by getting closer to him she might better see his motivation. “The title and ownership are not the most important thing here. When a gift is expensive, or holds special meaning, it’s usually not right to sell it. Not without talking about it first.”