of her. She had always had all the emotional support she needed from them. It was freely given, and they had always encouraged her to have confidence in herself. Her mother reminded her that there was nothing she couldn’t achieve if she tried. It had been an atmosphere in which Coco had thrived.
When they were out to dinner on Saturday night, Coco’s parents were excited about their trip to France the next day. Hearing them and talking about it made her miss it more than she had thought she would. But she didn’t want to make a bad impression at work by asking for a vacation right after she started the job, so she had decided to pass on it this year. She had wonderful memories of their many trips together during school vacations and in the summers.
“Are you all packed, Mom?” she asked her mother when they got home from dinner. Bethanie laughed guiltily with a glance at her husband.
“More or less,” she said and Tom laughed.
“You know your mom. She’ll be slipping more things into her suitcase and another one will suddenly appear as we walk out the door.” He always pretended to grouse about how much luggage she took, but in truth, he didn’t care. She liked to wear pretty clothes, and he enjoyed indulging her. Once in Paris and the South of France, she’d buy more, he knew. It was a trait Coco had inherited from her. Tom traveled light, but all he needed for the trip were white jeans, some linen jackets, a blazer, and a suit or two. It was so much easier for a man to pack less, as his wife always pointed out to him. She often had a whole suitcase of purses and shoes, to match every outfit. But at the hotel where they stayed in Cap d’Antibes, people dressed well. It was an older crowd, an expensive hotel, and they went there every summer for a week or two. Coco loved it there too.
It was a relaxing weekend, and Bethanie made them a big brunch on Sunday. After that, Tom drove Coco back to the jitney to return to the city. They had to finish packing, and were leaving on a nine P.M. flight to Paris, where they would spend several days seeing friends, going to art exhibits, and visiting their favorite museums and restaurants. And then they would head to the South of France, followed by a few days in Venice, and ending the trip in London, as they always did. They were planning to be away for just under three weeks, a luxury of time Coco couldn’t afford this summer, for a worthy cause. It was her first serious summer job.
She was in a good mood all the way back to the city after seeing them. She’d had a nice time with her parents, and she went to a movie with two of her girlfriends from Columbia that night. She knew that Sam had a date with the daughter of friends of his parents and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“How was it?” she asked when he called her after the movie.
“Painful. She was nice looking, but a huge bore. My parents’ only criterion is that the girls are Jewish. I don’t think she said ten words all evening. I was home by ten o’clock.” He made a date with Coco for later that week, to go to dinner and a movie they were both dying to see. They never ran out of things to talk about. When they hung up, she knew her parents’ flight to Paris was already in the air. They had called from the airport to say goodbye again. After talking to Sam, Coco turned on the TV in their den for a while, and then went to bed early so she’d be fresh for work the next day.
The next week at Time flew by and kept her busy, so she didn’t have a chance to miss them. Her parents called her from Paris, and told her what they were doing, what restaurants and galleries they’d been to, since they were major collectors and passionate about art. By the end of the week, they were in the South of France, happily at their favorite hotel.
That weekend she and Sam went out to Southampton, and spent the whole time relaxing and swimming, and sleeping by the pool. They slept chastely in separate rooms, as they always had, since there had never been even