wanted to tell her that this wasn’t the attitude to take. She’d spent years working at places that were “just a job” and it didn’t make it easier that you didn’t care about it. If anything, it made it harder.
She’d always known that Claire would be able to thrive in a work situation. It was Martha that she had to constantly build up. “You’re so smart and capable,” she’d said to her last week. Martha needed reminding, needed to be shown how to showcase herself. Sometimes her skills didn’t translate in the real world.
Claire didn’t go into much detail on her temp job, which was nothing new. She was always private with her information, never offered up anything unless Weezy was there to pry it out of her. Even after she and Doug called off the wedding, Weezy had to push to get any sort of answer. “It’s over, Mom,” was all she said. “What else do you want me to say? It’s done.”
“Was he unfaithful?” Weezy had asked.
“No, God, Mom. No.”
“I’m just trying to understand. Were you unfaithful?”
“Mom, stop. No.” Claire had breathed loudly on the phone, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “No one cheated, Mom. Nothing happened. We just don’t want to get married.”
Weezy had started to say something else, but thought better of it and stayed silent. She didn’t quite believe Claire, but there was no point in pushing further, she knew. Claire was the most stubborn of her children, and the more Weezy tried to put pressure on her, the more she dug in her heels and refused to move.
When the girls were little, Weezy sometimes resorted to trying to scare them into behaving. Once, in the grocery store, when they both refused to walk next to the cart, choosing instead to run in circles in the cereal aisle, she’d turned her back and left them. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later. I’m going home.”
Weezy walked down the aisle, turning once to look back at them for dramatic effect. Martha had screamed, “Wait! No! I’m coming,” and raced after her, snotty and red-faced, already crying in a panic. Claire had remained where she was. She sat herself down on the floor of the grocery store and didn’t budge. She just looked up at Weezy, daring her to go, her jaw clenched and her arms crossed, refusing to move.
And so Weezy went to the checkout, paid for her groceries, and then started walking to the car, sure that Claire would follow behind at any moment. Martha was still snuffling with fear because she’d almost been left behind. Weezy stood at the car, trying to remember what her childrearing books had said. Should she give in? Should she hold her ground? At what point did this become dangerous? Kids could be kidnapped anywhere at any time. Even if she was watching the front door, to make sure that Claire didn’t come out, you never knew.
She probably stood there for only a total of two minutes at the most, although it felt like an hour, and finally, convinced that Claire was in some sort of danger, she’d grabbed Martha and run back inside, and found Claire sitting right where she’d left her, staring straight ahead, refusing to move.
DINNER THAT NIGHT WAS WONDERFUL, mostly because Weezy hadn’t had to cook and Martha offered to clean up the kitchen. “Maybe having you two home isn’t so awful,” Will said, and the girls rolled their eyes at him.
Reading in bed that night, Weezy thought about the large flower arrangement of orange daisies, and how if she was really going to do this, she’d splurge for it. Even if it meant scrimping somewhere else in the budget, she’d do it. They were so beautiful and breathtaking. She could just imagine everyone’s faces as they walked in and saw them.
Will leaned over to give her a kiss good night, and his lips stayed on her for just a moment longer than usual. “You smell nice,” he said, smiling at her. “Like flowers.” He kissed her one more time, and then rolled over and fell asleep.
CHAPTER 9
The people at Proof Perfect (or “PP,” as they affectionately called themselves) took themselves very seriously. They wrote each other e-mails that said things like, “As we discussed,” and “FYI,” and “Per our earlier conversation,” and “Loop me in.” It was as if they’d all just read a book on office jargon and were in a competition to see who could use the most terms