Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)(72)

“Girls don’t have goals?” she asked as she poured the batter into the heated grid.

“I guess some do, but some just want to be pretty.”

“And some guys are only into playing video games and partying.”

“Sure, but that’s different.”

Her son, the sexist, she thought, faintly annoyed. Apparently there needed to be more conversations about equality and tolerance. Perhaps Ethan should be the one doing the explaining. Then he could be more than the fun parent.

While she appreciated that Ethan and Tyler got along so well, she knew they were a long way from being father and son. Right now Ethan was entertaining and new. He’d yet to have to make any hard decisions, to stand up to Tyler or punish him.

“How is it different?” she asked.

“Guys don’t care about how they look and girls don’t care about computer games. Melissa takes forever in the bathroom.”

“Abby plays with you.”

“But there are more girls like Melissa than there are like Abby.”

“You know this how? Did you take a survey?”

He frowned. “You’re mad. Why?”

She checked on the cooking waffles. “Because you’re making statements about people that may or may not be true. You’re assuming a lot. It’s easy to say a group of people always acts a certain way, but it’s not accurate.”

“But why does it matter?”

“Because people are a lot more alike than they are different. The biggest problems we have in this world are because of what we assume about each other. People make decisions based on appearance or gender or race, without getting to know anyone in that group. Or they have a very limited sample. Then they say things and other people hear them and start to believe them. Pretty soon we have a cultural bias that affects all kinds of decisions.”

Tyler stared at her blankly.

Liz shook her head. “Let me try it another way. When Melissa and Abby move to San Francisco with us, Abby will be in your school, right?”

He nodded.

“She’s from a small town. Let’s say a few students and teachers think that people from small towns are stupid. So they find out about Abby transferring and they tell everyone at the school that Abby is stupid. Is that right or fair?”

Tyler’s eyes widened. “Abby’s not stupid. She’s really smart and nice and fun. She’s my friend.”

“I understand that, but so what? You said it didn’t matter if you said something about someone that wasn’t true.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “They’ll hurt Abby’s feelings and I’ll get mad. And if I act out because I’m mad, I could get into trouble. And all my friends will help me and they’ll get in trouble.”

“That’s a big mess,” Liz said as she used a fork to pop the waffle onto a plate. “All because someone believed something that wasn’t true.”

“I guess it does matter what we say, huh?”

“Yeah. And a little word can have a big impact. The difference between all and some. ‘All girls don’t care about computer games’ is really different than ‘Some girls don’t care about computer games.’”

“Okay. So when I said girls don’t have goals, I was wrong. Some boys don’t have goals.”

“Exactly.” She passed him the waffle.

He grinned at her. “You’re really smart.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re probably the smartest mom in the whole world.”

She laughed. “That’s very possibly true.”

LIZ HAD LIVED THROUGH CABINETS being torn out, carpet being ripped up, drywall installation and insistent banging of hardwood floors being laid. But the noise that finally drove her out of the house was the high-pitched scream of a tile saw.

She took her laptop and a blanket to the far end of the yard and stretched out in the shade of a tree. The sound was still intense, but not so distracting.

She glanced up at the house. Even from here, she could see the changes. What had once been poured foundation and a few attempts at framing had become a real room attached to the house. The master suite was nearly complete. When it was, she might think about moving off the sofa.

Inside, the kitchen gleamed, the fresh paint added a brightness and the carpet was plush. The house had come a long way since she’d first arrived in town. It was practically new.

But no matter how many changes occurred, she couldn’t seem to shake the sense of doom and defeat when she walked inside. Maybe the memories were just too strong. Whatever the cause, this house would never be her home. Staying or leaving, she would move out as soon as possible.

She returned her attention to her computer. After loading her word processing program, she started to read the pages she’d finished the previous day.

It only took a few minutes to get back into the story. She glanced at her plotting notes, then began to type. The serial killer in this book targeted teenaged boys. The scene took place at a high school basketball game and she closed her eyes to imagine what it would sound like and feel like to be in that gym during an important game.

Two hours later, she leaned against the tree. The scene was nearly finished, her back ached from the uncomfortable position and the tile saw had grown mercifully silent. All in all, a pretty decent morning’s work.