Piper chewed on her lower lip and considered this. “I guess if we want them to have friends to go back to next year, they need time to text and play video games with those kids while we homeschool.”
“I can get on board with a little screen time every day,” Kiersten finally conceded. “I guess it’s sort of like methadone for a heroin addict. But three hours is too much. Luke would turn into aMinecraftzombie.”
“So we lowball them,” Rosamund said. “We offer half an hour a day. They counter with two hours. We settle at screen time for one hour each day, plus a movie on FridayandSaturday nights.”
Piper nodded. “I’m prepared to go as high as ninety minutes of screen time a day. But that’s our final offer.”
Kiersten nodded. “Agreed.”
They returned to the family room, paused the movie, and began their negotiation. It took ten minutes, but the children finally agreed to an hour of screen time each day, plus a movie on Friday and Saturday nights. They ratified this agreement with handshakes.
The mothers made popcorn as a peace offering and let the kids stay up past their bedtime to finish watching theMinecraftmovie as a demonstration of good faith.
As the kids snuggled on the couch with their movie, the moms retreated to the kitchen, where Kiersten made everyone a cup of chamomile tea.
“We are either the best moms in the world or the worst moms in the world,” Piper said. “I’m not sure which.”
“My parents never, ever negotiated with me aboutanything,” Kiersten said, shaking her head.
Rosamund wrapped her hands around her steaming mug of tea. “I know, but it’s a new era. I like to call it ‘Parenting with Pragmatism.’”
“Speaking of eras,” Kiersten said, “can I read you guys a couple more entries from Dottie’s diary?”
“Sure,” Rosamund said. “Are they interesting?”
Kiersten swallowed her tea. “They’re heartbreaking.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Dottie
August 22, 1965
Everything is different now, without the babies. It’s like a film has lifted from my eyes and I can see clearly.
If there are no babies, there’s nothing tying me to Dickie. And if I’m not married, I can get a job as a secretary again or go to college and become a nurse or a teacher. A divorce will cause a scandal of course, and Daddy will be mortified, but I have my whole life ahead of me, and I can’t bear the idea of spending it barefoot and trapped inside this house with Dickie.
And honestly, I don’t think he wants to be married to me either. In fact, I have this terrible feeling he only married me because he wanted Daddy’s money and Daddy’s connections. There. I said it. Out loud. On paper.
August 23, 1965
I sat down with Dickie last night and told him I want a divorce. I tried to appeal to his enormous ego.
“It isn’t fair to you, Dickie, now that I can’t have children,” I said. “If you stay with me, you’ll never have the family you’ve always wanted. The family you deserve. You’d be such a wonderful father.”
He raised an eyebrow. I might have laid it on a little thick.
“You can have the cars, the house, the money in our joint accounts, everything,” I added, trying and failing to keep my desperation from leaching into my voice.
His eyes narrowed. Then he reached across the table and took my hand. It took all my self-control not to flinch and pull it back.
“Unfortunately, Dottie, there’s no future in politics for a man who’s divorced. People want a family man with a loving wife and beautiful children. And your father is unlikely to keep his ex-son-in-law employed as his general manager.”
He released my hand, and I broke down. He patted me on the back. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, babies or no babies. But don’t worry. I have a plan to make everything so much easier for you.”
Even though the air was sticky and the night unbearably hot, I shivered.
Chapter Forty-Seven
