Soaring (Magdalene #2)(109)

“Don’t know your kids’ habits, babe, but also do not know a kid who tapes a show they don’t intend to watch. I also know, if they got a million taping, your DVR space is gonna be used up and so they’re gonna have to find a way to clear it somehow, and that shit’s not gonna happen comin’ over once a month.”

That was not definitive.

But I’d take it.

“I should let them know they’re welcome over anytime,” I declared.

“You haven’t already done that?” he asked.

“I should repeat to them perhaps more than once over the next two days that they’re welcome over anytime,” I amended.

I could hear his smile in his, “Good plan.”

“Are you still at the firehouse?” I asked.

“Yep,” he answered.

“I should let you go,” I noted.

“Yeah, but only because I went somewhere to talk privately, the guys have invaded and they’re givin’ me shit for talkin’ to my girlfriend.”

I again very much liked him referring to me as his girlfriend.

But my back went straight. “That isn’t very nice.”

“You got time to kill, apparently they feel in the mood to kill it tonight bein’ *s.”

I had a feeling this was directed right to guys.

I also had a feeling I really should let Mickey go.

“I’ll help put an end to that and say goodnight,” I offered.

“Okay, darlin’, check in tomorrow.”

“I will, Mickey. Stay sharp.”

“Always,” he replied. “Later, Amy.”

“Later, honey.”

We hung up and stared at my unlit fireplace.

Don’t give away credit you should take.

There was no denying that their Uncle Lawrie calling and sharing he felt they needed to shape up helped.

But Mickey was right.

It was mostly me.

I’d been in the battle of my life, the stakes the most important there were.

And I’d won.

On that thought, feeling like I was floating for a different reason, I got up and walked to my bed. I put my phone on the nightstand and went to my bathroom. I got ready for bed, turned out the lights, slipped between the sheets.

And I fell asleep easily.

* * * * *

I was at the kitchen counter, clicking through my laptop, when I saw movement.

I looked up and saw Auden wandering in wearing a navy tee snug across his broad (and getting broader) chest and a loose pair of plaid pajama bottoms.

“Hey, kiddo,” I called. “You want breakfast?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he replied, wandering my way, still looking sleepy. Half boy. Half man. All my son. “Waffles?” he requested as he came to a stop at the end of the counter.

“Sure,” I replied, straightened away from my laptop and turned to the kitchen.

It was Sunday morning.

Our Saturday had been just as good, if not better, than our Friday night.

I met Polly and her mother, Sherry, when they came over to get a tour of Cliff Blue.

I liked Sherry unreservedly. She was what I was learning most of Magdalene was. Nice, open and friendly. We got along immediately.

I wished I could say the same about Polly.

She was a pretty little thing, not as pretty as my daughter, but still very attractive.

She also had an air about her that put me on edge.

Conceited. Snooty.

And the way I grew up, I could call conceited and snooty from twenty paces.

Further, it was clear she was queen bee and my daughter was her minion. She didn’t overtly treat Pippa as such, but it was communicated anyway.

Olympia might like her, but I suspected Polly held some position at school that Pippa wanted to be close to and so she was serving her queen.

I felt badly about thinking this about Polly, especially considering Sherry was so lovely. I was also troubled about witnessing this from Pippa.

These feelings didn’t get any better when Auden interacted with the girls, openly reluctant to be in the presence of Polly in a way that he was clearly trying to hide his aversion to her.

During their visit, we all decided to go out to lunch, with Auden deciding not to join us (this being because he was a teenage boy, not because he didn’t like Polly). He hooked up with his friends, and I enjoyed spending time with Sherry but, alas, this time with Polly only cemented my opinion of her.

For one, she was openly catty about the people around us (mostly the females, their hair, outfits, anything she could note and say something mean about). Sherry attempted to curtail this but didn’t put a lot of effort into that, probably because she didn’t want to embarrass her daughter by remonstrating her in front of her friend and her friend’s mom.

And further, Polly was almost entirely negative about absolutely everything; the food, the temperature of the restaurant, the service.

After we parted ways, I decided it was too soon in my reparation efforts to broach this subject with my daughter, so I didn’t.

I didn’t do this also with the hope that she’d sort herself out. She was a good kid. A smart one. She had good friends back in La Jolla, they were close, had been friends a long time and they were all great kids. She’d been in Magdalene awhile, but she still was in a new place finding her way, and now, doing that her first year of high school.