"Maggie," Dad says with a genuine smile. I scan his face and find none of the things I braced myself for. He puts out his hand and shakes hers, firm and warm. "Good to see you again."
"Richard."
And then before I can do anything coherent he's pulled me into a hug, and I'm so caught off guard that I forget to hug him back for a beat. When he lets go I can't form a word.
"Sloane." Mom's voice from behind him. She's lowered her shades, assessing how filthy I look. I move toward her and she takes a small step in too and we sort of meet halfway in a hug that's mostly her keeping her chest at arm's length from my filthy front. Her hands go to my cheeks, and then she leans in and kisses my forehead. It's more affection than I've had from her all year.
"You're covered in —" she starts.
"We were cleaning." I gesture vaguely behind me.
"Yes." She steps back, takes me in properly. "I can see that." She turns to Maggie and extends her hand. "Carolyn Archer. Sloane's mother."
"Maggie Dawson." Maggie shakes her hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Dad nods past Maggie's shoulder toward the goat playground. "Is that the thing I bought?"
"That's it," Maggie says. "They love it."
He watches Derek, who is balanced on the bridge. Two other goats are headbutting and bleating loudly below him, and Beyoncé is perched on the highest platform, studying us from her lookout point. Derek jumps and misses the landing entirely, rolling into the dirt. Dad laughs.
"Carolyn," he says. "Look at the goats. Have you ever watched goats before?"
Mom glances at him sideways. Dad isn't one to show enthusiasm about much, and her face says she isn't quite surewhat to do with this version of him. I shake my head, still trying to make sense of the two of them on the driveway.
"What are you doing here?" I ask. "I mean — I'm thrilled, but you didn't tell me you were coming, and Mom, you never venture out spontaneously."
Dad slides his hands into his pockets, comfortable. "Your mother and I talked a lot after what happened in the past week. And it occurred to me that she hadn't seen, with her own eyes, what you've been doing out here. And given you're apparently staying on past your sentence — well." He glances at Mom. "It seemed time."
"You've decided to stay," Mom says. It's halfway between a statement and a question. "Sita called me, something about a party. She wanted to know if I had any idea when you were coming back and it occurred to me that I knew very little about what's going on in my own daughter's life. Then you posted that video and you didn't pick up the phone, so we've come to see you."
"And you know about —"
"About you and Maggie." Dad takes the leap, so I don't have to. "Yes. That was hard to miss," he adds dryly.
Mom looks at Maggie and me. "Is it true?" she asks. "That you're — together?"
I smile at Maggie and take her hand in front of both my parents. "Yes," I say. "It's true."
Mom nods and lifts her chin. "Well, your father and I have decided we're being open-minded about this. It's the first time he hasn't had a bad word to say about someone you're dating, so I'll do my best to get used to it."
I smile and swallow down the lump in my throat. "Thank you. That means a lot."
Mom looks me over again and her eyes come to rest on my dirty hands and chipped nails. "I have never, in my life, seenyou like this though. I'll book you a manicure, and you're getting your credit cards back, providing you're a little more responsible in your spending."
I laugh, because it's so completely Mom, the nails being the thing she can't quite get past — not the woman, not the video scandal, but the nails. "It's not glamorous," I say. "It's hot and smelly and I'm filthy every day. But I'm happy, Mom. I'm really, really happy." I turn to Dad. "And as far as the cards are concerned, I appreciate your support for a little while longer. I'll figure out a way to become self-sufficient. Just give me six months, if that's okay?"
Dad nods. "Take as long as you need, Sloane. As long as you're trying — and I can see you're trying."
EPILOGUE
MAGGIE (ONE YEAR LATER)
Epilogue – Maggie (One year later)
"Stop it! You're dripping on me," Sita yells from the lounger.
"That's the idea." Sloane shakes her wet hair one more time for good measure and Sita shrieks and swats at her. The two of them carry on like that for a minute, fifteen years of it in the way they bicker, while I drift on the inflatable bed and watch the sky go gold over the back paddock.
