door.
“Say good-bye, Star. They’re leaving.”
“Oh, no.” Mommy got to her feet. “We just got here. We haven’t even had a chance to talk yet, Mama,” she added softly.
Grammy’s mouth went hard, and Star shrank back. That was the face that meant a spanking or a whack on the head with her high school ring.
The man appeared behind Grammy’s back. “We’re going.”
Mommy laid her hand on Star’s shoulder. “Just another minute. Please.”
“We’re not done with the tea party!” Star added. “It’s not her fault, Grammy! She didn’t know about the cookies!”
“Say good-bye to your company, Star,” said Grammy.
Star didn’t want to say good-bye. She cried instead—loud and screaming, just like she would if a new toy had been taken away. Grammy shouldered her way into the room and scooped Star up.
Grammy stared at Mommy, her eyes cold and dead as stones in winter. “Get out of this house.”
It didn’t settle in until much later that Mommy was Grammy’s daughter. Grammy had stood there and ordered her own flesh and blood out of her home. All she knew that day was that Mommy left with the man, who had to be Daddy. Star stayed in her room and cried. She sulked at dinner, and Grammy sent her back to her room.
“You can just stay there until you remember how to behave.”
Beth remembered being positive that this time she’d stay in her room until she died. She might even have shouted that—fists balled up, whole body bent double by the force of her scream. She meant it too. She really did.
When it got dark, Star got herself changed for bed. She was mad enough that she kicked the pink princess quilt Grammy’d gotten her last Christmas onto the floor. She was hungry because she hadn’t eaten dinner. She was getting scared. She wanted to understand what had happened this afternoon. What had the shouting been about? Could she say she was sorry about the cookies and promise not to do it again? Would Mommy be allowed to come back, then?
Maybe she fell asleep. She didn’t remember that. She did remember the sound.
Tap, tap, tap!
Star sat up. It was dark. Moonlight filtered through the metal blinds. The sound came again.
Tap, tap, tap!
From the window. There was a shadow at the window.
“Hey,” whispered a woman’s voice. “Hey, Star. It’s me. It’s Mommy!”
Star yanked the blinds up and pushed the window open, and the screen. Mommy leaned over the aluminum sill and grinned.
“Hey, honey! Sorry about before. But it’s all okay now. Come on!”
Star stared at her. Mommy held out her arms. “Come on, honey. Right out the window. Mommy’s got you.”
Star tried to make sense of this. Only one possibility occurred to her. “Are we going traveling?”
Mommy smiled, that same beautiful happy smile she’d worn this afternoon, right up until the moment Grammy walked in on them. “Yes, Star. We’re going traveling. Come on, now! I’ve got more cookies in the car.”
And that was that.
Mommy wiggled her fingers, making a “come on” gesture, and Star let herself be hugged and lifted out of her bedroom window in nothing but her nightgown and slippers. She clutched her favorite teddy bear, Boo, the yellow one Grammy crocheted for her.
Mommy bundled her into the back seat of the station wagon. Mommy made Boo-Bear dance and jump up and down and squeal when he saw the fresh package of Oreos. Daddy, a silhouette in the front seat who still hadn’t said a single word to her, drove them all away.
CHAPTER TEN
Beth surprised herself by sleeping late the next morning. The night had been a long one, complete with tossing and turning and getting up to make sure that the alarm really was set and that nothing had been disturbed. Which was obsessive and pointless, and she knew that, but she could not stop herself.
It was already nine thirty, and the kitchen was quiet and dark when she went in to make her coffee. Either Dana was celebrating the end of the school year in traditional teenage fashion by sleeping in extra late, or she was still sulking.
Probably it was a little of both.
I’ll find a way to explain, Beth told herself as she set about grinding beans and filling the coffee maker’s carafe. I have to.
The landline rang. Beth jumped, splashing water all over. She had to stand where she was and press one hand against the counter for a long moment before she could make herself put the carafe down gently and pick up the receiver.
“Beth Fraser.”
“Ms. Fraser,