so she picked up the handheld, pressed in the country code and number, and waited until it was finally answered. “Sash? It’s Mum. How are you?”
“I was asleep. Um, er, it’s, like, six o’clock in the morning.”
“I’m in Paris, and it’s the only chance we’ll get to speak.” Daphne disliked Sasha’s sleeping in. It wasn’t a formula for success. “Darling, you mustn’t spend your summer laying about.”
“I’m not.”
“I thought you had arranged to give riding lessons at that therapeutic barn, whatever it’s called.”
“Thorncroft, but—”
“So why aren’t you doing that? You need those volunteer jobs for your applications.”
“The camp doesn’t start until next week, so I—”
“Why not go over, introduce yourself, help out? You can clean tack or muck stalls.”
“Mom, you woke me up and now you won’t even let me talk—”
“Seriously, darling?” Daphne felt her anger flare. “Now, please, there’s something you must do. I’ve been getting emails from Dr. Garvey about a 5K run for his daughter.”
“You mean Dr. Garvey, like, Allie Garvey’s father?”
“I assume so. I’m on the planning committee because he needed a lawyer to draft the waivers. It’s today, and he needs help. Go to the clubhouse, find him, and ask him what he needs. Be there at seven-thirty.”
“In the morning?” Sasha sighed heavily. “That’s, like, in an hour.”
“Do stop whinging.” Daphne abhorred whinging. Or whining, as Americans called it. “Now, darling, I have to go. Have fun. Love you, goodbye and—”
Sasha ended the call.
Daphne hung up, cross. She had no clue how she’d ended up with such a selfish, entitled daughter. She would have hoped she’d be an excellent role model for Sasha, but evidently not.
No one knew how difficult it was to be a mother.
CHAPTER 19
Allie Garvey
It was a beautiful morning, and the clubhouse buzzed with volunteers hurrying to set up for the 5K, unloading cardboard boxes of blue caps and T-shirts, bottled water, and waiver forms. It was only seven-fifteen in the morning, so the only other people there were the planning committee, a group of moms and a retired guy. A bright blue banner reading STARTING LINE hung over the entrance, and blue Jog For Jill signs covered the doors and windows. A long white tent had been erected over registration tables draped with matching blue tablecloths. Three Chester County police cruisers and a red boxy ambulance were parked at the driveway, where the paramedics stood around drinking coffee.
“It’s the big day!” Allie’s father spread his arms wide, standing in front of the tent. “Doesn’t everything look great, Linda?”
“So great!” Allie answered for her mother, who clung to Allie’s arm like a much older woman. The Garveys had on their blue Jog For Jill T-shirts with their shorts, though her mother was wearing jeans that looked baggy on her. Allie felt a pang, not having realized how much weight her mother had lost, and some of the volunteers remarked it when they said hello to her, welcoming her with big hugs.
Allie’s father rubbed his hands together in delight. “We’re going to raise a lot of money today! My colleagues are coming in force. Morty said his office is entering as a team, and Shawn’s dental techs are, too.”
“That’s great, Dad.” Allie understood why he’d been so busy, now that she saw what it took to stage the 5K. But she also understood why her mother hadn’t wanted to come, since Jill had died a year ago today, at 3:32 in the afternoon. Allie was mentally counting down, but she didn’t want to make her father feel bad. Luckily, she’d be home by then.
“So what do you think, Linda? Aren’t you impressed?”
“Totally, Dad,” Allie answered again, because her mother merely nodded, her lips pursed and her features barely visible in her oversized sunglasses and her blue Jog For Jill cap. Her mother had to be on her meds, but they were making her act strange, disconnected from everything.
“Allie, check this out.” Her father pointed at the cardboard boxes. “Everything was donated by local businesses. We didn’t have to spend a dime, so all of it goes into the pot for CF.”
“How do you raise the money, Dad? Like, do the runners get sponsored?”
“No, we do it with the entry fee. It’s thirty-five dollars a person, and the corporate teams have pledged to make a matching contribution. I think we’re gonna get two hundred, maybe even three hundred people. We blanketed the area with flyers, not just in the development.” Her father looked up at the sky, grinning at heaven itself. “Not a cloud,