Cathy wound up her story. "Whatever the case may be, as unhappy as she is about the fact, Emerald O'Brien seems destined to be a fixture in our local news. I'm sure we all look forward to more of her adventures that add such local color to our area."
Infuriated, I zapped the TV with my remote. "How dare she! I'm calling the station and lodging a protest right now." But even as I grabbed the telephone, I knew it was a lost cause. My shop was a public place. The media had a right to be in a public place. If they could televise their attempted interviews with politicians and suspected criminals and alleged victims who didn't want to be taped and kept saying "No comment," Cathy Sutton could air her tape of me and make snide comments and I didn't have a leg to stand on. Even if I could win a retraction, it'd be aired on some last-moment late-night broadcast when everybody was turning off the television to get ready for bed.
I dropped back into my chair and stared numbly at the kids. "Damn."
Kip giggled. "You're mad."
"Damn right I'm mad. That woman should be taken off the air as a danger to herself and others."
Miranda leaned on the arm of the sofa. "You didn't see the driver, did you?"
I shook my head. "No, I was too busy watching Daniel. If anybody caught the license plate, the police would know by now."
"What happens if the person who did hit Mr. Barrington sees it and thinks you know who they are?"
Now that idiot had my kids scared. That was the last time I'd ever talk to her. However, I might just punch her out next time we met. "I don't really think that's going to happen," I said. "People know Sutton always exaggerates her reports."
Settling into the chair at the computer, Kip turned to me. "I'm sure glad you're mad at her and not me right now."
I flashed him a smile. Sometimes my son had a way of making the irritations of life seem brighter. "Funny boy. Funny."
He hesitated, then cleared his throat.
"What is it, honey?"
"Uh, I know you're really busy lately, but are we still going camping this weekend?"
Camping! Oh God, with all that had gone on the past couple of days, I'd forgotten about our reservation at the resort. I winced. Now was not the best time to go, but I'd promised the kids, and Kip had been so good during the time I'd grounded him; I hated to let him down. I took a deep breath and held it, thinking. The deposit was nonre-fundable, I'd lose a hundred dollars if we didn't go. Kip stared up at me, his eyes earnest and hopeful.
"Okay," I finally said. "I'm still not convinced this is the best idea right now, but I did promise, so we'll go."
Kip's eyes lit up. "Yay! I was hoping to look around for rocks for my science project." They were studying geology, and he was currently in the crystal phase all kids go through when they discovered quartz and fool's gold.
"Cool. What about you, Randa? You still up for it?"
I didn't think she'd be that interested, but she surprised me. "I could take my old telescope—the one I had before you bought me my new one for Christmas. The viewing will be a lot better out there, as long as there aren't any clouds. I know you're worried, Mom, but I think you need a break."
Well, she was right about that. "Then it's settled. I think I'll ask Murray to tag along. She's been having a rough time adjusting to her new job, and I think she could use a break, too." If she went along, not only would I feel safer, but it would also give us a chance to discuss some of the strange things that had been going on lately.
"May I invite Lori?" Randa asked. "She likes astronomy, too, though she doesn't want to be an astronaut. She wants to teach." I was so relieved that Miranda actually had made a friend her own age that I would have agreed to her dragging a dozen kids along on the trip.
I took over the computer, and we typed up a list of things to be done before the weekend. I delegated the chores to the kids since I had to work.
Miranda cleared her throat. I waited. "Urn... Mom, can I... I know this isn't the best time to ask, but is there any way I might be able to buy a few new clothes?"
New clothes? My no-nonsense daughter who owned four pairs of black slacks, three pairs of jeans, two skirts— one black, one gray—and a dozen shirts of various neutral shades, was asking for new clothes? She never expressed an interest in shopping except when something grew raggedy or too small. I had despaired of ever getting her into anything remotely feminine. She liked the severe look, but it didn't seem natural for someone her age to be imitating Donna Karan.
Wondering what brought this on, I considered our bank account. "Well, a few things, sure. Of course, sweetheart. Do you want me to go with you, or do you want to go with Lori?" I wasn't going to interfere; if she expressed the remotest interest in going out with her new friend, I was all for it.
Randa blushed again. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go with Lori. Can I get my hair done, too?"
Too shocked to comment, I simply said, "You aren't going to get it cut much, are you? It's so pretty when it's long." I ran my fingers through the long, raven locks that hung past her shoulder blades.
She shook her head. "I want a shag—long and layered. It would be easier to keep up." Her words fell over one another, and I realized she wasn't trying to rationalize her desires to me, but to herself.
Adolescence was hard enough without having your mother psychoanalyze you. 'Tell you what, next week I'll give you the charge card, if you promise to stick within the budget I set."
With a hasty nod, she slipped off the sofa. "I need to make some notes in my journal for tonight's star watch," She tripped off up the stairs, and I heard the ka-thunk of her door.