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“My car.”
She’s letting me come, so I can be generous. Even if her car looks like it would be lucky to make it a few miles before falling apart. I nod and follow her to the jalopy Subaru, holding back a smile as she says, “You need to wait for me to open the passenger side door. The handle doesn’t work on the outside anymore.”
“I thought you said your friend was a car guy,” I comment after she gets in and opens the door for me.
She rolls her eyes as I get seated and close the door. My nose twitches. It smells like fast food and looks like it’s gone its whole life without a single cleaning. I’d prefer to be in a dozen other places, but my wish to get the fuck out of this car is smaller than my need to be there for her.
“He is,” she comments, not waiting for me to get my belt fastened before starting to back up. “But what you don’t seem to understand is that I can take care of myself.”
“The door begs to differ,” I say.
She ignores me. “Izzy won’t think anything of you wearing a suit,” she says, returning to my earlier remark, “but I guess this dress is a little…fancy. I’ll tell her we were at a fancy dress party.”
“At noon?”
“Adults do weird shit,” she says, waving at the front windshield.
“Or so you’ve been told.”
I’m gifted with another eyeroll. It comforts me more than it should, but it’s good to see her feeling more like herself, her panic winnowing down to annoyance.
“Still, you’d better take off the ring,” I tell her.
She gasps and says, “You’re right. Shit. I’m bad at this lying thing.”
“It’s a good thing I’m good at it.”
We’ve reached a traffic light, and she glances at me, her gaze beating into me. “Is it?”
I feel a bit disquieted, but I clear my throat. “Yes, and in this particular situation it’s to your benefit too.”
“I can’t deny that,” she says as she starts driving again. We’re mostly quiet for the rest of the drive, but I notice that Ruthie takes the ring off at the stoplight, putting it in the drink opening next to the wheel—as if a ring that costs multiple thousands is no big deal and won’t be stolen from a car that doesn’t have doors that operate appropriately. I guess there are downsides to letting her think it’s fake. But I make a note to move it or ask her to before we get out.
Ten minutes later, we’re in the principal’s office with Izzy, who looks no worse for the close encounter with her crappy relative. Her hair is in two ponytails and she’s sucking on a lollipop someone must have given her. I figured they wouldn’t give kids lollipops in school, but then again, I haven’t darkened the door of a school since I was in one.
“Can I have a word?” the principal asks Ruthie.
“Can you—” Ruthie starts, turning toward me.
I nod before she has to finish. “Come on, Izz.”
We leave the office and settle into two chairs in the hallway outside, situated across from a Hang in there poster with a monkey on a branch that probably has been there since my childhood. “Why’s Mom wearing that dress, Uncle Shane?” Izzy asks around the lollipop.
“You’ll have to ask your mom,” I deflect.
“But she has your coat on. Why does she have your coat on?”
“It went better with the dress than her old puffer.”
She makes a face. “That coat has seen better days, and it is a dazzling dress. She looks like a princess. You think she’ll give it to me when I’m old enough for it to fit?”
“I think she would.” I tap my hand against the chair arm. “Someone approached you in the playground today?”
I’m not going to confirm that woman was her grandmother. It’s not my place. But I always prefer to have as much information as possible—and it seems especially important in this situation.
“Yeah,” she says contemplatively, leaning back. “I think it was my grandmother. She said so, and Mom’s shown me pictures. I told her that if she really is my grandmother I don’t like her very much. She was really mean to Uncle Danny and to Mom.”
I sigh and lean back in my chair too. “I’m sorry that happened, Izz. Were you scared?”
