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For the first time in what felt like forever, Kate laughed. "We always have been. Ill tell you what: Ill think about writing if you think about falling in love. "
Tully looked at her. "Maybe it would be easier to think about spending the day on the beach. " She paused. "I havent heard from Grant since I moved out here. "
"I know," Kate said. "Im sorry. But I dont think he was the one for you. If you two had been right for each other youd have fallen in love. "
"Thats what people like you think," Tully said quietly, and then brightened. "Come on, lets make margaritas. "
"Now youre talking. Ill get drunk on the first day of kindergarten, and in the morning, no less. Perfect. "
The Ordway Halloween Carnival was only seven days away and Kate had foolishly volunteered to design and make the photograph staging area. Between shopping for supplies, painting the backdrops, and building the faux haunted house set, she was overwhelmed with work. Add to that driving responsibilities that came with getting Marah to her modeling class, and she was emotionally close to the edge most of the time.
But she was supposed to be writing her book. Johnny and Tully and Mom expected it of her. She expected it of herself. Shed been certain that once the boys started school shed find the time.
Unfortunately, shed forgotten the kindergarten timetable. Frankly, shed barely dropped the boys off before it was time to pick them up, and Johnny, whod always been so much help, now spent more waking hours at the studio than he did at home.
So Kate did what shed always done: she kept moving, hoping no one would notice that she didnt smile as easily as she used to, or sleep as well.
This morning at six oclock, she kissed Johnny awake, then went down the hall to waken Marah. From that moment on, she was caught in the whirlpool of other peoples needs. She drove carpool and went shopping and met the decorating committee for an hour of hammer-and-nails-type work.
She got so caught up in the work she almost missed picking up the boys. Late, she ran for her SUV and sped across the island, pulling into the pickup lane as most of the cars were leaving. She honked at the boys and waved them over.
Her phone rang. "Hello?" she answered, reaching behind her to unlock the back door.
"Mom?" Marah said.
"Whats wrong?"
Marah laughed, but it was definitely contrived. "Nothing. I dont want you to spaz out, but Im scheduling a family meeting for seven oclock tonight. "
"A what?"
"A family meeting. Well, sort of. I dont want Lucas or William there. "
"Let me get this straight: you want to have a meeting with your dad and me at seven. "
"And Tully. "
"What trouble are you in?"
"Way to believe the worst in me. I just want to talk. "
A thirteen-year-old girl wanting to talk to her parents? Specifically, Marah wanting to talk to Kate? That was like a snowfall in July. "Okay," Kate said slowly. "You sure youre not in trouble?"
"Im sure. See you. Bye. "
Kate stared at the phone in her hand. "Whats going on?" she wondered aloud, but before an answer floated to the surface, the car door behind her opened, the boys climbed into the backseat, and Kate was tossed onto the surf of her everyday life.
There was shopping to do, and cooking, and at three she was back in the carpool lane, picking up Marah.
"You sure you dont want to talk about something now?" she asked.
Marah sat slouched against the window in the passenger seat, with her long black hair covering most of her downcast face. As usual, she wore low-rise jeans, flip-flops (even though it was raining), a skimpy pink T-shirt, and a surly expression. The expression was the one accessory she never left home without.
"If I wanted to talk now I wouldnt have scheduled a meeting. Sheesh. Get a clue, Mom. "
Kate knew she shouldnt let her daughter talk to her like that, and usually she didnt, but today she didnt feel like fighting, so she let it go.
At home, Kate went straight up to her bathroom, took two aspirin, and changed into her sweats. Ignoring her headache, she got the boys settled at the kitchen table with their sticker books and started dinner.
