MOLLY WOULD HAVE GONE out to the garage to make her phone call, if only it wasn’t so cold. As it was, phone in her hand, she strolled to the foot of the stairs to be sure Cait really was safely closeted in her room before dialing.
“Molly,” Richard said, in that quiet, deep voice that for no good reason seemed to settle some of her turmoil. She’d been counting on it. “I was hoping you’d call tonight.”
“Hah!” She kept her voice low and walked to the living room, where she could hear any footsteps on the stairs—and wasn’t right beneath Cait’s room. “You were probably hoping for a few days of peace.”
“No. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
She could hear his smile, which made her grow one, too, however wry and painful it was. “Thank you for saying that. I hope you meant it. About listening. Talking.”
“I meant it.”
Sincere? Not? Given that she’d already made the phone call, what could she do but take him at his word?
“So what’s up?” he asked.
“Oh, the usual drama with my daughter. How dare I try to open a discussion about the adoption agencies, open versus closed adoptions, never mind the fact that she’s seven plus weeks along. Seven weeks!” She was breathing hard again. She wished suddenly that he was here. That—maybe—he was holding her hand. The first time he’d done that, she’d hardly noticed on a conscious level, but the feel of his big, warm hand wrapping hers was nonetheless imprinted on her sensory memory. When was the last time anyone had offered physical comfort to her? Anyone but Caitlyn, who used to be generous with hugs but now seemed to bitterly resent her mother?
“Yeah, that’s been on my mind, too,” Richard said.
Molly had to think what he was talking about. Seven weeks. That was it. “What is she thinking? No, don’t even try to answer that.”
“I wasn’t going to.” There was an undertone of amusement, but sympathy, too.
“Has Trevor opened up to you any?”
“Initially he did. More recently, he’s been closemouthed. Less angry, though. It’s as if once he realized how badly he’d screwed up, he became a little less focused on the flaws of his bumbling parents.”
“One of his teachers commented in passing that Trevor blew him away with a paper.”
“A paper? He actually turned one in?”
“Apparently.”
“Huh.”
On a spurt of resentment, she thought, Crisis hits, his kid turns a corner for the good and mine for the bad. How fair is that?
Fair enough. Trevor was older. He should be more mature.
“So, did you get her talking at all?” Richard asked.
“Only long enough for her to yell that all I ever do is tell her what to do. I don’t listen.”
There was a moment of silence, long enough for her to remember Richard, too, had told her she didn’t listen.
“I was pissed,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.”
“You read my mind?”
“Hard not to.”
She sighed. “Maybe I don’t.”
“From all I can gather, your daughter was popular, amazing at dance—according to Trevor—and smart. Not a cheerleader only because it would have gotten in the way of dance. Homecoming princess.”
“Straight-A student. That’s more important than popular.”
“Agreed. She’s gotten mixed-up lately. Doesn’t mean you didn’t raise a great kid. Give yourself some credit.”
Molly drew her legs up, dug her toes into the sofa cushions and rested her forehead on her knees. “Thank you. I needed somebody to say that.”
“You’re very welcome.” The undercurrent of amusement was in his voice again.
She cleared her throat. “So. I was thinking.”
When she didn’t continue immediately, he made an interested sound.
“What if you and Trevor were to come over for dinner?” Molly said in a hurry. “If we ruled no talk about…you know.”
This silence had her antsy. She lifted her head. Did I just say that? What was I thinking? That we could all be friends?
“There’s nothing I’d like better,” he said. “Well, that’s not true. Dinner without our kids, that might be better.”
She laughed, her unease settling. She loved how he could do that.
“I can run it by Trevor,” he said. “But from what he says, Cait won’t willingly be on board.”
“Maybe it should be a surprise party.... No, forget I said that. There’s a disaster in the making. I tried that already, didn’t I, and you and Trevor didn’t like it very well. Okay, it’s a lousy idea.”
“No, it’s not,” Richard said, to her surprise. “Chances are Cait feels isolated, but is scared of being pushed into a decision before