“Maybe you’ll get to do that too on yoursuperfungirls’ weekend.” Ten’s voice drips with sarcasm.
Nev’s lips pucker. “Forgive Ten. He’s been grumpy all day.”
Ten doesn’t blush, but a nerve twitches in his jaw. He turns his face ever so slightly toward our approaching parents. Mom is laughing. Friends exchange jokes, not business colleagues… or whatever redoing a house makes her and Jeff. Their camaraderie twists the knife she planted in my back the day she accepted work from this family.
I lock my knees to tamp down the desire to bolt toward the Volvo. “Are you also going away to boarding school, Nev?”
“Nope. I’m super excited to be in Nashville.”
Jeff slings an arm around his daughter’s shoulder, making her lose her balance.
“Dad,” she admonishes him.
He tickles her side. “What?”
She giggles. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Tickling me,” she says between bursts of laughter.
“Oh, that.” Jeff grins down at her. “Fine. I’ll stop.” And he does stop.
As I stare at them, I see a loving father, but then I remember how vicious he was to Mona, and my sympathy fades like the closing bars of a song.
“Have a pleasant night, ladies,” he tells us before guiding his kids into my favorite restaurant.
I hate that Mom shared it with him. It was our place.
The knife twists some more.
When we’re back in the car, Mom asks, “You and Ten had a fight?”
I whip my face toward her.
“Come on, baby. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
As she backs out of the parking spot, Mom makes a small cluckingsound with her tongue, because she imagines my chilliness stems from a romantic quarrel.
Halfway home, I decide to come right out with it. If I keep it in any longer, it will fester. “Were you ever going to tell me Ten and Nev are Mona Stone’s kids?”
Mom hits the brakes so hard my seat belt digs into my chest. All her earlier amusement drains from her face. There are no more dimples. No more smiles. No more glittery eyes. Just a hard jaw and an even harder stare.
23
The Destruction of Idols
We end up at the Dairy Fairy. At this hour, the place is real quiet, but Mom still picks a table in the farthest corner. I don’t feel like frozen yogurt, but I eat it anyway. It goes down like cold, goopy cement.
“Jeff didn’t want me talking about his private life.”
“But I’m your daughter. I go to school with Ten.” I stab the swirly cream. “I just feel so blindsided.”
“How did you find out?”
My cheeks warm. I’m so not giving Mom a play-by-play of homecoming, but I do tell her how, when Mona’s song came on at the dance, Ten flipped out. “I ended up guessing.”
