Mia held up a Cécile McLorin Salvant record. “Mom loves her.”
“Great. Let’s add it to the stack,” I said.
“Papa, is this one good?” Margot held up a Melody Gardot album—the exact one I’d been hoping to find.
“That’s perfect, sweetheart. Great eye.”
She beamed. “Yay.”
I smiled and grabbed the nearest crate marked New Arrivals. I found another first pressing, then asked the clerk if they had Diana Krall’sTurn Up The Quiet.
By the time we were through, we had ten albums to get Lila’s new collection started—all approved by Mia and Margot, who’d gotten surprisingly invested in the hunt.
After I paid for the records, I turned to the girls. “Now, ladies, we need to find a turntable.”
“Mom’s going to be so excited,” Mia said, bouncing on the tips of her toes.
“Will she really like it?” Margot asked. “The record player?”
“She’s going to love it,” Mia assured her. “Especially because we picked it out together.”
We hunted through the antique shops until we found a Marantz turntable with scuffs along the lid and a tiny chip in one corner. The guy behind the counter said it worked perfectly, but I had him play a record just to make sure. Soon enough, we were headed to the car with our treasures.
By then it was the middle of the afternoon and quite warm. I suggested ice cream, which was met with great approval. We found a quaint, old-fashioned candy and ice cream shop down a side street. They made me smile when they all ordered mintchocolate chip. I got salted caramel for myself, and the five of us sat on a bench outside to enjoy them under the shade of an oak tree.
“After this, we should go to that T-shirt shop,” I said, gesturing toward it with my cone. “They’ve got all kinds of shirts with funny sayings. You girls can each pick one to take home.”
“Really, Vance? That’s so nice,” Mia said. “You’re pretty good at this father-figure thing.”
“I’m trying to win you all over, so it’s not really that nice.” I grinned. “But I’m glad you think so.”
“This really is the best day ever,” Grace said. “When I think of what my dad was like, I think of him like you, Vance. He and my real mom died when I was a baby. My mom’s actually my aunt.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. That really sucks,” I said softly.
“Yeah. It’s weird, though, because I don’t really miss them—I don’t remember them. I was six months old when my mom adopted me. She’s my real mom’s sister. Basically, she gave up her whole life to take care of me.”
“I remember my dad,” Annie said. “I was nine when he died. He wasn’t like you, though. He was quiet and stuff. Mom says he’d fought depression his whole life. It finally won.”
“I’m sorry, kid,” I said.
Annie looked down at her bowl of ice cream. “Me too. I used to be kind of mad at him—like, why didn’t he want to hang around to be with Mom and me? But I’ve been through a lot of therapy, and I have a much better understanding of depression. It’s a thief, you know.” She spoke so wisely and with such maturity that it kind of broke my heart. “I still miss him, though. He used to make pancakes on Sundays. Shaped like animals.”
“My dad just left on purpose, not because he died,” Mia said. “He replaced us. And I don’t miss him. At all. I actually hate him.”
Margot had gone very quiet, staring at her ice cream.
“My mom kind of did that too,” she said finally, her words thin and uncertain. “She didn’t die or anything. She just … didn’t want me anymore. Because Derek didn’t want kids.”
The other girls went silent.
“That’s really hard, Margot,” Grace said gently.
“But you have your dad now,” Annie added. “And he really wants you. That’s obvious.”
Margot looked up at me, eyes shining. “Yeah. I call him Papa.”
My chest ached at the sight of these young faces, all touched by loss and abandonment. These girls had been through too much in their young lives. No wonder they’d decided to play matchmaker for their mothers.
