Cindy didn’t smile in response. “You don’t have to make fun of the field I chose, Willow. Just because Vi and I didn’t decide to stay on the Indiana Jones track with you, that doesn’t make our careers less valid.” She paused before adding, “Also, no. That wasn’t psychology, not really. It was an observation from someone who didn’t have the advantages you did. Like parents who loved being around me so much that they’d plan trips around stops at my college.”
Inwardly I cringed, kicking myself. “Cin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I know I sound like a spoiled brat sometimes when I whine about my life. I was just kind of venting, I guess.”
“That’s perfectly acceptable.” Cindy cracked a smile. “But while you do it, make sure you remember that a lot of us would be happy to step into your shoes.”
“Duly noted.” I took a deep breath. “And also, Cindy—you and Violet don’t really think I’m looking down on the work you guys chose, do you?”
She shrugged. “I guess not. It’s just that when we all met, we were going to major in archeology. Sometimes I wonder if you look at us as quitters because I went into psychology and Cindy switched to education.”
“Never.” I laughed ruefully. “I thought you two considered me naïve for staying in that field. It’s not like I have a promising future there. I’m going to spend the rest of my life looking at dusty, mildew-covered old documents about people who’ve been dead for centuries.”
“But it’s what you’ve always wanted to do,” Cindy argued. “So I think it’s damn cool that you’re going to live out your dream.” She leaned around me to look at the ancient clock radio on the tray next to the futon. “Shit, it’s almost five. Violet and I thought we’d make a fast stop on the way to the house where the party is. She wants to take you to that new bar that opened down by the college. But we’ll have to leave pretty soon.”
“I can be ready quick,” I promised. “Give me, like, five minutes to change into something cute and brush my hair.”
Cindy cast me an appraising glance. “Five minutes, you say? To get totally party ready?”
“Bitch.” I gave her a friendly little push. “I’m not going to make a big deal about tonight. It’s just a bunch of people getting together, right?”
“Well, yeah, but the bunch of people are our friends. We want you to make a good impression.” She hesitated. “Some of the people there are kind of important to me now, and I can’t wait for you to meet them.”
“Fine.” I stood up and stretched my back. “Then give me fifteen minutes. I can pull off—what did you call it? Totally party ready? I can do that in fifteen minutes.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” Cindy snarked as she left the room. “Timer starts now!”
I grinned and then got moving, digging through my suitcase to find something that might work for tonight. Once I had on a new pair of jeans—dark rinse this time—and a pretty black cotton shirt I’d bought in Belgium last spring, I ran a brush through my hair and considered pulling it into a ponytail. August was a hot, steamy month in northeastern Pennsylvania, and if I ended up being outside at this party, I didn’t want my hair sticking to my neck.
In the end, I compromised by slipping a band onto my wrist just in case. I didn’t feel like wearing makeup, but out of deference to what Cindy had said, I swiped on a coat of mascara and some light lip gloss.
On my way out of the room, I picked up my phone from the futon, sighing when I remembered I hadn’t answered my mother’s text. She’d sent a quick follow-up, probably just to nudge me.
Mom: Just one more night, sweetie! It feels like so long since we’ve seen you.
Willow: Hey! Same here. What time I get there tomorrow kind of depends on how late I’m out tonight, I guess. The girls want to get in one more party before we all morph into grown-ups. But I’m hoping to be on the road right after lunch. I’ll be there by dinner. Probably.
Mom: Okay. Have a good time tonight, but behave yourself.
Willow: Always do, Mama. I’ll text you when I’m about to hit the road tomorrow.
Mom: Wonderful. I’m excited for you to see West Point. When we first got here last year, I thought it was all gray and drab, but I have to admit, it’s grown on me. And I don’t think you’ll mind all of the cadets, either. Talk about eye candy.
Willow: Reminder, Mom. I grew up on college campuses. It was completely normal to have overgrown hulking males from Daddy’s football teams at the dinner table a few times a week. I don’t think this place is going to be any different.
Mom: Just you wait and see, sweetheart. I’m telling you, seeing these guys walking around post in their gray uniforms . . . or maybe it’s the setting, all of the history around us . . . whatever, I’m telling you that West Point is an entirely different animal than any college where we ever lived.
Willow: I guess we’ll see.
I cocked my head as I heard my name called from the other room.
Willow: Okay, Mom, I gotta go. Cindy and Vi want to hit a new bar before we go to the party.
Mom: Hmmm. Be careful.
Willow: Will do, Mom. See you tomorrow!
I added a blowing kiss emoji and clicked out of the text app before she could say anything else. I loved my mom—loved both of my parents—but what I’d told Cindy was painfully true: after over a year of being on my own with an ocean between us, I knew that living with them, even temporarily, was going to be an adjustment for all of us.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on that now. My two best friends from college, the girls I’d been missing for a year, were waiting for me.
