“Yeah.”Billie shut the fridge and stared around the room.“It has stools to sit at, like a restaurant counter.I eat there at breakfast.”
“What?”Her heart lurched.“I thought you were visiting Charlene in the mornings before camp.”
“Nope.”Billie smiled, unconcerned.“I went over there Monday, but she said she wasn’t a morning person and that I should have breakfast with Adam.”
Jane felt faint.“You’ve been there every day this week?”
“Yup.”
She didn’t sound too panicky.Billie and Adam eating breakfast together?Every day?It was inconceivable.On Monday Billie had bounced out of bed, her normal cheerful self, and had asked if she could visit Charlene before camp.Jane had known the other woman would have shooed the girl away if she was being a pest—but never would she have imagined Charlene sending her to Adam.Here she’d been worried about him having a chance to get to know Billie and it was already happening right under her nose.
“So, Mom, can we have a center island in our kitchen?”
“We don’t have room here, honey.”
Jane forced her thoughts away from father and daughter sharing a meal and studied the small room.Counters lined two walls, with a built-in stove in the middle of one and the sink in the middle of the other.Opposite the stove stood the refrigerator; opposite the sink, the old-fashioned Formica table with four matching vinyl chairs.She remembered that set from her childhood.The yellow, green-and-orange abstract shapes had reminded her of Crispy Critters breakfast cereal.Her mother had hated the set, but her father had picked it out, so she’d lived with it.Jane recalled that as she ate her solitary breakfast each morning,she used to make up stories about the imaginary animals running across the Formica tabletop.
“But I like the island.”Billie tossed her ball in the air and caught it.“Maybe we could make the kitchen bigger.”
Jane pulled off the cap and ruffled her daughter’s bangs.“One, don’t throw your ball inside.And two, we don’t have the money.Besides, it’s just the two of us.We don’t need more room.We already have three bedrooms.”
“I like Adam’s house better.”
So do I, Jane thought, thinking of the large graceful mansion built before the turn of the century.The inside had been modernized, but each room maintained an elegance that couldn’t be manufactured today.By comparison, her house was small and dark.Still, it was home to her.The price was right and when she got a couple of paychecks in the bank, she’d be able to make some changes.Her mother had often talked about remodeling.She’d even made some sketches of the new room layouts and had pinned swatches of carpet and wallpaper to the sheets.Jane’s father had vetoed the idea, telling his wife that her foolish plans were just a waste of time and money.Her mother had turned away without a word and the sketches had disappeared, never to be mentioned again.
“It’s a nice house,” Jane said, pushing away her memories.“And ours will be, too.In time.Now you go play while I make lunch.”
“What are we going to do this afternoon?”
“What would you like?”
“The pool.”Brown eyes glowed with excitement.“And ice cream.”
“I think we can manage that.”
“All right!”Billie raised her arm and held her hand open.Jane hit it with her own, then paused for the high-five to be returned.“You’re the best.”
“Thank you.You’re somewhat of an exceptional child yourself.”
“I know.”Billie grinned, then ran from the room.
Jane pulled out sandwich fixings and the salad she’d been planning on having for herself.After spooning the lettuce and vegetablemixture into two bowls, she used raisins to make eyes, Chinese noodles for hair and a ribbon of honey-mustard dressing for a mouth.If the plate looked interesting enough, Billie often forgot that salad meant vegetables.It wasn’t that she didn’t like green food, it was more that she felt it was her job to protest eating them.Kids, Jane thought with affection and a flash of longing that she could have had four more just like Billie.It would have been a handful, but more than worth the effort.Her daughter brought her joy and fulfillment.She gave her all the love and—Crash!
“Billie?”Jane called as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked out of the kitchen.“I told you not to throw your ball inside.What have you broken?”
“Nothing.”But the small girl stood beside the living room coffee table and stared at the broken remains of what used to be a glass.“It slipped.”
“You didn’t throw your ball?”
Billie shuffled her feet.“Not really.”
Jane waited.
The girl sighed.“Yeah, Mom, I threw it.”Her shoulders slumped in a defeated gesture.“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for apologizing.However, sorry doesn’t replace the glass.We’ve been over this before.No ball throwing in the house.”
“I know.”The words came out as a whisper.“Here.”She held out her ball.
