maternity leave. “No, no. Two is just fine. Wonderful. The best.”
Her father was having an affair. Would her parents get a divorce? A sudden lump rose in her throat. She took a drink of the vodka, its burn welcome. “Tell me about the stadium project. Ian said there was some confusion on ADA compliance.”
“No. He was mistaken.” She smiled. “It’s going beautifully, and even a little bit ahead of schedule. Now. What shall we order?”
* * *
— —
When Juliet got home that night, she was exhausted and wired at the same time. Oliver had fed the girls already, and Sloane was in bed, Brianna doing homework (i.e., messaging her friends).
“I’ve got a lovely big martini ready when you are,” he said. “Salmon, couscous and brussels sprouts, with a fat slab of chocolate cake I picked up at Sweetie Pies just for you.”
“You’re amazing,” Juliet said. “I’ll go say good night to the girls and be right back.”
Sloane was already sleepy, her Patronus being an elderly cat who slept and liked to be petted. “How’s my girl?” Juliet asked, sitting on the edge of her bed, stroking Sloane’s silky hair.
“I’m good, Mommy. How are you?”
“I’m fine.” There was that lump again. What would the girls say if their grandparents divorced? Oliver’s mother lived in London, and while she was fabulous and descended with gifts once or twice a year, it wasn’t the same. Oliver’s dad had died when he was twelve.
Sloane and Brianna saw their Frost grandparents at least three times a week.
Shit.
“Do you want me to sing your good-night song?” she asked.
“No, Daddy already did. He makes up funny rhymes.” She smiled sweetly. Yes. Oliver did everything better than she did.
“Okay. Sleep tight, little one,” she said, kissing Sloane on the forehead, nose and lips. Soon, if she were like her sister, Sloane wouldn’t want kisses anymore and would say things like, “Did you brush your teeth today?” and slice away at Juliet’s heart, one translucent layer at a time.
But maternal love was required to be unconditional, so Jules went into Brianna’s room, knocking once.
“What?” her oldest said.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said.
“Why did you work so long today?”
“It’s Thursday. I always work till seven on Thursdays. You know that. That way I get to be home when you’re done with school on Monday, Tuesday and—”
“Okay. Fine. I remember. Sorry.” She widened her eyes as if Juliet had been screaming at her.
“How was school?”
“Fine.”
“Any quizzes or tests or fun things?”
“No. It was boring. Um, I’m kind of busy, if you don’t mind. Ackerly and I are doing math homework.”
Ackerly was the most poisonous of Brianna’s friends, and one of these days, she would take Brianna down. Juliet could see the handwriting on the wall. “What about Lena? She’s good in math, too.” Lena hadn’t been over lately, and Brianna had stopped talking about her as much as she used to. The two had been friends since preschool.
“Mom. Ackerly is also good in math. If it’s okay with you.”
Juliet opened her mouth to say, I don’t trust her or Watch yourself with that one or Lose the attitude, Bri, or you’re grounded. “Watch your tone,” she said, the best she could manage.
“Okay. Sorry. Good night.”
“Good night. Love you, baby. Lights out in half an hour.”
There was no response. Juliet closed the door and went down the stairs, pausing in front of a beautiful black-and-white photo of Brianna as a baby. Back when she loved her mother. God, those dimples! Her father’s huge, smiling eyes, and Juliet’s square chin, and those dimples.
When was the last time Brianna had smiled at her?
Juliet knew this was normal. Teenage girls were hormonal and beginning that process of pulling away from their mothers especially. Because how could you bear to leave if you didn’t hate your mother a little bit? Except Juliet never had. She’d cried and cried when Mom had dropped her off at Harvard, and had to pretend to love it for six weeks before it became true. It was only because Barb was so diligent in checking in, coming to visit, sending care packages, that Juliet made it through her freshman year. She was her mother’s favorite, she knew.
And Sloane was hers. Mothers shouldn’t have favorites. She loved both girls the same. But she liked Sloane a lot more these days. If Brianna could give her something to work with, it would be easier.
Please, God, she thought, don’t let Sloane ever get to this point.
Oliver was waiting, shaker in hand. He loved making cocktails to