“It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“I can help out more, you know.”
“Yes, I know. You’re a very capable young woman, and I’m immensely proud of you. But you need to focus on school. I don’t want you working for me all the time. God forbid your grades start to slip and then you don’t get into a good college.”
“Wow, talk about going from zero to sixty. Suddenly I’ve been rejected by all the Ivy League colleges?”
“I’m just saying I’m the adult here. It’s my responsibility to keep a roof over our heads, and it’s your job to enjoy your high school years and prepare for college without having to worry about the electric bill.”
“But winter’s on the way, and you know we don’t have a wood burner, so that bill is going to like triple what it is now by December.”
“Again, not your problem.”
“I can work and still get good grades. I’ll just drop out of the fall musical.”
“I didn’t know you were even auditioning for the fall musical,” Maya said, sitting up in her chair, surprised.
Vanessa nodded, slightly embarrassed. “Some girls dared me after they heard me singing in the locker room shower. I kind of did it on a lark. I honestly didn’t expect anything to come of it, but the theater director, Ms. Callis, says I’ll get something.”
“Well, that’s great.”
Vanessa shrugged. “It probably won’t be a big part, maybe the chorus. It’s no big deal. I don’t have to do it.”
“You’re not bowing out. We’ll be fine.”
Maya noticed her daughter’s skeptical look. She took Vanessa’s hand and squeezed it. “Really. Okay?”
“Okay,” Vanessa said.
Maya could tell her daughter was relieved because this was something she really wanted to do despite her lackadaisical attitude that she was showing off to her mom.
Vanessa’s phone buzzed, and she excitedly peered at the screen. A smile crept across her lips as she frantically typed a reply.
“Who is that? Lucy?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Emily?”
“Nope.”
Studying her daughter’s euphoric face, the answer finally came to her. “A boy?”
This time she got no reaction, which was basically a confirmation.
“What’s his name?” Maya sighed.
Vanessa finished sending her text and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. “I’m not ready to tell you.”
“What do you mean you’re not ready? I’m your mother.”
“There’s no way I’m telling you his name yet. I know you. You’ll go all private eye on me and do this huge extensive background check on him and everybody he knows, and pretty soon you’ll know more about him than I do at this point.”
“I’d like to deny I would do something like that, but you’re probably right. Okay, you don’t have to tell me . . . yet. But if it gets serious, we need to talk about it.”
“We’re not having sex, Mom,” Vanessa said matter-of-factly.
Maya sighed with relief. “Good. But if it progresses to the point where you’re thinking about it, we need to have the talk.”
“We’ve already had the talk,” Vanessa said, rolling her eyes.
“We have?”
“Yes, like three times.”
“Really?”
“Yes, I pretty much know everything, and what I don’t know, I can find on the internet.”
“I’m happy you haven’t gone all the way, but can you at least tell me how far you have gone? Kissing? Heavy petting?”
“I’m not doing this,” Vanessa cried as she jumped up from the table and bolted out of the room.
Maya couldn’t help it. Her mind was racing. Who was he? Did she know him or his family? If she knew just his name, she could easily google him. Maybe she could swipe Vanessa’s phone when she was asleep and find out some information from all their back-and-forth texts.
No, Maya said to herself. She couldn’t do that, as much as she really wanted to, because she had to trust her daughter. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t hazard a few guesses as to the identity of this mystery boy. It was a hell of a lot more interesting than worrying about her monthly budget.
CHAPTER NINE
Sandra knew everyone in the stands was watching them. It was her first public appearance with her husband since the tawdry scandal about Stephen had been blasted across the Dirty Laundry website. They sat about halfway up the bleachers, smack-dab in the middle, where she felt trapped and claustrophobic, but she had to keep smiling.
For the sake of her family.
Stephen was right.
It was best for them to present a united front and not let anyone believe that what the site was saying had any serious effect on them.
Stephen had his arm draped around Sandra’s shoulder, and whenever one of his constituents stopped to say hello, he’d gently pull her in closer to him in an effort to prove they were just as happy and loving as they had always been.
It struck Sandra as insincere and quite frankly artificial, but she knew it was vitally important for Stephen to act as if nothing was wrong.
She couldn’t help but wonder if his trip up from Washington, DC, was more about damage control than about missing his family. She hated herself for making judgments about her husband and his motives. However, she had spent years playing the role of the loyal politician’s wife, always upbeat and smiling, but underneath the surface she had become hardened and jaded to that unattainable public image.
Everyone in the bleachers jumped up and cheered as the home team wrested control of the ball. It was the fourth quarter. They were behind by seven points now after the opposing team had taken advantage of a fumble and scored an unexpected touchdown. The pressure was on for a win, since they had lost the last two games. Sandra couldn’t imagine what was going on in her son Jack’s head. He was the first-string quarterback. The team’s fortunes seemed to rise and fall on his shoulders. She watched him conferring with his team and Coach Cooper in a huddle.
There were just a few seconds left on the clock.
Stephen clapped his hands and shouted, “Come on, boys, you can do it! Woo-hoo!”
Sandra looked at him. Was he showing off for the crowd, trying to be the engaged, supportive father who came to every game to cheer his oldest son on, even though this was the first one he had attended all season?
She scolded herself for being so cynical.
She noticed Ryan sitting on the opposite side of Stephen. He appeared distracted, staring over at the left side of the bleachers, down a few rows. Sandra followed his gaze but couldn’t see what he found so interesting. She did notice a statuesque woman with beautiful brown skin and gorgeous curly black hair sitting with a pregnant friend and a very pretty young girl, probably fifteen or sixteen, who bore a striking resemblance to the tall woman and was probably her daughter. Sandra stared at the gorgeous, confident woman. She looked so familiar. Had they gone to high school together? Before she could place her, the team broke from their huddle and was back on the field.
She leaned across Stephen and spoke to Ryan. “What are you looking at so intently?”
Embarrassed,