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“Is this a joke?” Spencer blurted.
Her mother shook her head. “Someone let performing panthers out of their cages in Atlantic City. Apparently one of them almost tore off a woman’s arm.”
She’d just said more words to Spencer than she had in days, so Spencer dared to sit down on the stool next to her and watch the remainder of the newscast. Animal control teams were working hard to round up the panthers, but the creatures were extremely stealthy.
When the news broke for commercials, Spencer felt her mother’s eyes on her. She slid off the stool, prepared to hustle up to her room so her mom didn’t have to endure her presence. Then her mother let out a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry about how I’ve behaved toward you in the past few days, Spencer.”
Spencer stopped in her tracks. “It’s okay,” she said quickly.
“Things have been . . . tense.” She touched her forehead. “Your dad and I had a big argument that hasn’t exactly gotten resolved. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Seriously, it’s all right.” Spencer busied herself with a copy of the Miami Herald on the island, too flustered with this sudden change of heart to look her mom in the eye.
Her mother eased off the stool and turned off the television. “I’d like to make it up to you. There’s a new boutique called Astrid that just opened up in town. Want to go?”
“I’d love to go with you.” Spencer’s heart began to buoy. They hadn’t been shopping together in a long time. They hadn’t done anything together in a long time.
“Great. Be ready in ten minutes.” Her mother swung her purse over her shoulder and shot Spencer a smile. It might have been pinched and tense and still a bit frosty, but at least it wasn’t a grimace.
Astrid boutique was a mix of Miami chic and casual beach cool, featuring a lot of caftans, flowing dresses, white denim, and rubber flip-flops that cost over $100. A Rolling Stones song played over the stereo, and the salesgirls were busily folding merchandise when Spencer and her mom swept through the front door.
Spencer made a beeline to the denim table, and her mother followed her. After sifting through the piles of jeans, her mother cleared her throat. “So you and Melissa seem to be getting along.”
“I guess so,” Spencer said, surprised that her mother had noticed.
“How is she doing with all the Ian stuff?”
Spencer flinched. “Honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.” She and Melissa had continued to keep their conversations light—mostly they talked about Colin or made fun of the outfits his groupies wore.
“You did the right thing by turning Ian in, you know,” she said. “We have no idea what that boy’s capable of. And to think we’d invited him into our home with open arms.” She shook her head. “I’m considering pressing charges against him myself—for psychological damage. Your father thinks I’m crazy.”
“Is that what you’ve been fighting about?” Spencer asked.
A startled look came over her mother’s face. She traced the stitching on the back pocket of a pair of faded blue jeggings. “No,” she said quietly. “It was something else.”
Straightening up, she pulled a short romper off a nearby rack and held it up to Spencer’s frame. “This would look cute on you.”
Spencer eyed it suspiciously. “Won’t it make me look really young?”
“There’s nothing wrong with looking young.” She folded the outfit over her arm. “I think you should try it. It’s adorable.”
“Well, then, you have to try something, too.” Spencer pulled a blue-and-white printed maxi dress from a hanger. “Dad would love you in this.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I have the body for that.”
Spencer waved her finger in her face. “No negativity! Just try it.”
They both found open dressing rooms. Spencer kicked off her shorts and shoes, staring at her bare legs in the mirror. She pulled on the romper. Surprisingly, it didn’t make her look as young as she’d anticipated. The high cut caused her legs to look long and tan, and it cinched in neatly at the waist.
Out front, jingle bells on the doorknob tinkled. The salesgirls murmured, and footsteps sounded in the back hall near the dressing rooms. Spencer glanced under the curtain and saw two thin calves ending in slender ankles and silver gladiator sandals. Whoever it was just stood there, not moving.
A tingle traveled up Spencer’s spine. She felt like whoever it was could see her through the curtain. She was about to call out, but then the gladiator-sandaled feet pivoted and walked away.
“Spence?” Her mother called from the next dressing room over. “I think you were right about this dress.”
“Let me see, let me see!” Spencer cried.
She stepped around the curtain to find her mother standing in the hall. The maxi dress skimmed her narrow hips and brightened her skin. “It’s beautiful,” Spencer breathed. “You should get it.”
Her mother padded barefoot to the three-way mirror in the main showroom. She tilted her hips this way and that, then inspected her backside. “I suppose it is nice.” She met Spencer’s eyes and smiled. “Good choice.”
Spencer’s heart warmed. When had her mom last complimented her?
Then, Spencer’s mother’s expression shifted at something in the mirror. A tall, thin, elegant blond woman was flipping rapidly through the racks behind them. A khaki-colored quilted Chanel bag hung from her shoulder, her skin was perfectly tan, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her body, and she had a very recognizable heart-shaped face. Was that . . . ? It couldn’t be.
