All I Ever Wanted(41)
“Mom still won’t let me get off the bus alone, so I had to go to Noah’s because Grammy was, like…working.” My niece shuddered. “And Noah had to drop Josie off with you, and I had to come because no one in this family, like, acknowledges the fact that I’m way too old to be dragged around like chattel.”
I regarded my niece, impressed with both her sulkiness and her vocabulary. “What’s the matter, hon?” I asked, unable to resist petting her pretty cheek.
“There’s like this stupid, idiotic father-daughter dance at school this weekend, and like, of course I can’t go.” She glared at me in the way only a teen can manage…disdain, fury, vulnerability all rolled into one hot glare.
“Poppy would go with you, Bronte! He would love that!”
“I don’t want to go with my grandfather. If I don’t, like, have a dad, forget it.” Her eyes filled. Though Bronte had never met him, her biological father had died in Iraq, and of course, Hester had not provided an alternate father figure. “Do I, like, have to go on this stupid field trip?” she asked.
“No, sweetheart. You can stay with the grumpy old man, if you want.” I studied her mercurial face. “You want to talk about the dad thing?”
“No,” she said, then, realizing she was treating her beloved aunt with contempt that should only be reserved for her mother, gave me a grudging smile. “But thanks, Callie.”
“You’re welcome, baby. I’m always here.”
“I know,” she said. “You, like, tell me every week.” She gave another eye roll and glided away. My admiration for my sister grew. One thing to have children…another to keep them when they hit adolescence.
It was nice to be away from the office. The mood at Green Mountain had changed once the BTR people went back to San Diego. Ever since, Mark had barely spoken to me; we were busy, but still. There was something about being a child of divorce…I’d always felt somehow responsible for everyone’s mood. If I was cute and cheerful enough, I believed, everyone would be happy. If they weren’t, clearly I wasn’t trying hard enough. That was how it felt with Mark these days…like I was somehow failing him. And Muriel…forget it. What she actually did remained a mystery, though she sat at her desk each day, dressed to kill in her black and white—I had yet to see her in a color—clattering away on her keyboard.
“Are you ready, Auntie?” Josephine asked, grabbing my hand and nearly wrenching my arm from the socket. “Can we go? Please? Are you ready? Can we please go?”
“Sure, honey. We just have to swing by my place so I can change, and then we’ll be on our way. You have directions, right?”
“In my backpack,” Josephine replied. “Come on! I don’t want to be late!”
“We won’t be late, sugarplum,” I said. “Come here. Are you too big for Auntie to pick you up?” I scooped her into my arms. “Oh, I see that you are! Blerk! I almost dropped you!” I pretended to let go for a second, a game she always loved, and received her musical giggle as reward.
I set her down, took her hand and headed toward Noah. And get this. He was talking. To Jody, a woman who was not related to him by blood! This was a change. Jody had worked her magic, because Noah, while not looking exactly joyful, had not run for the door, either.
“Noah?” I called. “I’m taking Josephine to her Brownies meeting. Bronte’s going to stay with you.”
“Fine,” he grunted. He glanced over at Bronte, who was reading The Iliad. “You can sand.”
“Oh, joy, oh rapture unforeseen,” she returned without looking up.
“She’s a smart-ass, that one,” Noah said, unable to suppress a proud smile.
“You’ve got to love a child who reads,” Jody agreed.
I leaned in to give Noah a hug. “You could do a lot worse than Jody Bingham,” I whispered. He swatted my shoulder. “Ow. You hurt me. I may file charges,” I said. “Bye, Jody! Bye, Grampy! Love you!”
“Bye, Grampy! I love you!” Josephine echoed. There. Made him look good even if he resented it.
HALF AN HOUR LATER, I was clean and sweet-smelling and wearing comfortable pants so I could eat lots of Cabot’s cheese, food baby or no food baby. Josephine bounced on my bed, Bowie barking in approval. “Give me the directions, honey,” I ordered.
She hopped down and dug in her backpack, then handed me a sheet of paper. “Can I wear some of your lip gloss?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said, scanning the sheet. Oh, heck! We weren’t going to a cheese bar…we were going to the Georgebury Veterinarian Practice. Ian’s, in other words. Huh. Clearly, this must’ve been set up long ago by Dr. Kumar, because I just couldn’t imagine Ian welcoming in a bunch of giggling five-year-old girls.
I was right, I found out twenty minutes later.
“Dr. McFarland will be right out,” Carmella Landi said for the fifth time.
“Marissa, don’t eat that, sweetie,” I said over the din. “It’s for doggies. Spit it out.” I turned to Carmella. “Is he hiding?” I asked.
“I think so,” she said. “He looked like he was passing a kidney stone when I told him this was on the calendar.” We both laughed merrily.
“How’s business?” I asked.