There was a sudden pause, and I could hear the wheels turning in his head. "I'm so sorry, Em. I don't know what I was thinking. What did the cops say? What are you going to do?" He had quieted down, and I could hear the remorse in his voice.
"The cops haven't got a clue; and it isn't for lack of trying. Murray's heading up the investigation. I'm waiting for the insurance check, and Safety-Tech came today to install an alarm system; I ended up handing over a check that is going to really bite into my budget, but I don't have a choice. Andrew, we were doing so well, the kids and I, and now this. We'll be okay, but I'm kind of scared." It took a lot for me to admit my fear, but I needed his support, his encouragement.
He cleared his throat. "I'm sure the insurance will cover your losses."
"Losses, yes, but I lose money when there's nothing to sell. I lose time. I have to cancel shopping excursions from my little old ladies' fan club up there in British Columbia. It adds up, and these things aren't refundable."
An edge of impatience sliced through his voice. "I'm sure your shop will be fine, Em. Now, want to hear about my week so far? You'll never believe who I met!"
Unable to muster up any enthusiasm, I looked up as Randa skipped into the room and waved to catch my attention. "Andrew, I have to go. Miranda needs to talk to me. Have a great meeting tomorrow and all the luck in the world to you. I hope everything goes just the way you want." He stammered out a quick good-bye as I replaced the receiver and turned to Randa. "What's up?"
She curled up on the sofa next to me. "Was that Andrew?"
I nodded. "Yep."
"Did you guys make up? Who won?"
So she had heard us fighting the other night. I shrugged. "Let's just say we've settled on a truce. Some arguments are too complicated for anybody to win." She seemed to accept this, pondering it for a moment, and then filing it away. I reached over to run my finger along her cheek. "You are such a pretty girl, and so smart. I'm proud of you, know that?"
A winsome grin flitted across her face. She arched an eyebrow at me. "Ah, very good, Mama-san." She straightened up, serious again after the all-too-brief moment of play. "Mom, I need your permission for something."
My heart dropped. What now? A trip to NASA? A first-class ticket on the next space shuttle? "What do you want?"
She held up a notepad. "I've made a list of reasons why this is a good idea. Don't say no till you hear me out, okay?"
Uh-oh. The list. Probably something unreasonable. Too bad. Since I'd almost been killed, we'd been developing a rapport that we'd never had before, and now I'd be forced to destroy the bridge we'd made. I nodded for her to go ahead.
"I've been thinking about how much time and money I could save if I skipped into high school this fall. Or maybe even college. I doubt I could manage that far but—"
The look on my face must have stopped her, because she slammed the list down on the sofa and jumped up. "You promised you'd listen before you decided!"
Taken aback at her sudden fury, I held up my hands.
"Have I said a word? You'd better think twice about using that tone of voice with me. Now slow down and give me the specifics."
With a sigh, she began again, her enthusiasm growing as she spoke. "I found a program that offers what they call accelerated learning. I'd take a bunch of tests and, if both you and the school administration agreed, I could skip a few grades and that way I could get into college faster."
I stared at her. So this is what all those extra books were about; she'd been lugging stacks of them home from the library over the past few months. "Give me a clue here, hon. What makes this so important? Why do you want to skip ahead? Are you having trouble with the kids or teachers?"
She bit her Up and stared at the sofa. "I'm bored. I make straight A's and I'm bored. The kids are all a bunch of idiots. Well, most of them. Not Lori, but otherwise, I feel like I'm in kindergarten." She looked up at me with a ghost of a smile on her face. "Mom, I don't want an ordinary life. I know what I want, and I just want to go after it."
I don't want an ordinary life. My brilliant Miranda. So driven, with her head in the stars. If I could only hand her the resources, I knew she could manage to achieve anything she wanted to. She was two when she looked into the night sky and made her first wish on a twinkling star. Now her head was filled with visions of galaxies and star clusters and black holes. Going on fourteen, but still my little girl. Skip a grade, or more? I knew it could be done, I had friends who had managed it, and they did just fine. But there was a price to pay, and a check wouldn't cover the costs. Could Miranda handle that price? Could she leave her peer group behind without regret?
I glanced out the window. Horvald Ledbetter, our neighbor from across the street, was inspecting his tulips. Obsessive-compulsive as far as I could tell, he could be found out in his yard at all hours of the day or night if he thought something was wrong with his garden. I stared at him for a moment while I thought.
Finally, I turned back to Randa, who was waiting quietly. I knew she expected me to say no outright. "Here's the deal. I don't know. I really don't know what to say about this one. Why don't you get me the names of whoever I'm supposed to talk to at the school, give me a copy of your notes—and I don't just want to see the positive spin on things—and let me think about it for a while."
Her eyes widened. "You mean you really will think about it?" I nodded, and she jumped up and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Mom. I wish you'd just say yes, but at least you didn't say no yet." By this time tomorrow, I'd be loaded down with more research than I ever wanted to see.
I flipped on the television and found myself staring directly into my own eyes. Oh no, Cathy Sutton was airing that damn tape. I couldn't believe the gall of that woman! Miranda leaned over my shoulder as Kip pounded down the stairs. He skidded to a half by my chair. "Mom, you're on TV! Sly just called to tell me."
I shushed them and turned up the sound. Cathy's nasal twang came over the airwaves loud and all too clear. "Ms. O'Brien denied knowledge of any connection between Daniel Barrington's murder and the destruction of her shop but had this to say when questioned further."
My face suddenly splashed across the screen. Thank god I'd been wearing makeup, but I still looked irritated and unpleasant. Again, Cathy's voice-over startled me. "Emerald, isn't it possible that whoever ran down Mr. Barrington thinks that you saw him do it and is sending you a warning, trying to convince you to keep quiet?"
The film cut to a shot of the outside of my shop as my voice rang out loud and clear. "I really don't know... maybe..."
"Damn it, I told her I didn't want to be interviewed." I jumped up, shaking my finger at the television. "They said they were just testing film speeds! That wasn't even the question that I was answering! They pieced together clips of what I said."