single parent, sometimes you worry . . .”
Teddy’s mom paused, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin. Oh, no, Teddy thought. Her mother was one of those people who rarely slowed down, but if she ever had the opportunity to think for a moment and get in her feelings (like if, for example, she heard a Mariah Carey song on the local easy-listening radio station), she could have a weepy sob fest with the best of them. And Teddy was afraid one of them was coming on right now.
“You worry that you can’t help your kids all on your own. And it’s hard to do it alone. I hope the two of you never have to find out.”
Teddy’s mother shot a glance at Sophia, who frowned. “I’m pretty sure Craig’s not going anywhere. Craig, are you planning on leaving the family?”
“Nope!” Craig said cheerfully through a mouthful of rice. Honestly, Teddy admired Craig’s ability to take her family’s conversations in stride. Perhaps she should strive to be so unbothered.
Teddy’s mom turned to look back at her, and Teddy waited a moment before realizing what her mother was asking. “No, Mom, I don’t have immediate plans to become a single parent. I’m not pregnant. Look at me. I’m drinking wine.”
“You’ve had, like, two sips,” Craig said. “Pretty sure pregnant people can have that much.”
“How would you know, Craig?” Teddy asked.
He shrugged. “I read a headline. I don’t know. Don’t quote me on it.”
“I won’t,” Teddy muttered, then tipped her glass back to take a dramatic swig while staring at him.
“All I’m saying,” her mother continued, “is that there are a lot of people in the world who will make a single mom feel like she’s doing something wrong or like she’s already screwed up before she’s even begun. But you two are proof that I did an okay job. My two girls, taking over the world.”
Teddy smiled with her lips closed. It was hard to muster a real smile when what she’d told her mother was a lie. Well, not necessarily a lie. She might take over the shop; after all, she loved Josie, and she wanted to make her happy. But did she really want to run a vintage toy store for the foreseeable future?
She wasn’t so sure.
But it had taken only one sentence to make her mother happy, so she was glad she’d said it. And she could still do it! Maybe. Probably. She’d talk to Josie about it soon.
“A toast,” Teddy’s mother said. “To my two beautiful, amazing, successful daughters. Don’t forget to take some food home with you.”
They all raised their wineglasses (except for the kids, who raised their juice cups), and Teddy smiled as she tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was deeply, deeply wrong.
46
“What do you think of this?” Everett asked Jeremy, holding up a puppet.
Jeremy squinted. “Needs something.”
This was why Everett loved working with Jeremy; Everett had known him for so long and they’d worked together on so many things that Jeremy didn’t feel the need to sugarcoat his thoughts. If Jeremy thought what Everett was working on wasn’t good enough, he’d tell him, not give him the news in a compliment sandwich.
“But what?” Everett asked, growing frustrated. “I don’t like the part of having an idea that involves working on the wrong thing until a good idea deigns to appear. Why do I have to keep trying out new ways to make this puppet look right? Why can’t I find out before cycling through five hundred incorrect options?”
“You know what you could do,” Jeremy said. “You could . . . go with it. Accept that puppet as it is. Done is better than perfect.”
They laughed. Both of them knew that Everett’s philosophy was “it’s not done until it’s perfect.”
“Do you think it needs different hair? Should I make the eyes farther apart?” Everett held the puppet out and stared at her.
“You need something, but I’m not sure what. I’ll know it when I see it,” Jeremy said.
“Same here,” Everett said with a sigh. “Well, thanks for the help.”
“Anytime,” Jeremy said, and walked out of the office with a wave.
Everett stared deep into the puppet’s unblinking eyes. “What do you need?” he asked. “What will make you feel real?”
He moved the puppet’s mouth, and in a garish, high-pitched voice, he squeaked, “A sooouuuulllll!”
He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “I’m losing it.”
“Yep.”
He spun his chair around to see Astrid leaning in the doorway.
“How do