“You’d be surprised,” said another of the women who had yet to talk. “My sister has a heated pool, and it heats right up, like a spa. Where do we turn it on?”
“No, wait,” Amy said, holding her hands out as if she thought they were going to rush the pool. “You can’t stay here, Mother!”
“Amy,” her mother said cheerfully. “There is more than enough room. Look at this place, it’s a mansion! And Elaine said the extra bedrooms are all upstairs.” She waggled her brows at her daughter.
Amy looked mortified. Harrison felt mortified. He felt like he’d been caught in the back seat of his ’78 Camaro with Cathy Schwartz his sophomore year all over again.
“I found the pool house!” one of the women—Melissa, he thought—shouted from somewhere around the side of the house.
“There’s a pool house?” said the one he assumed was Carol, who,along with June, toddled off to see, leaving Barb and Amy in a face-off, and Harrison and Hillary watching the entire show.
“Mom,” Amy snapped, her tone more urgent. “What part ofbreakdid you not get? I need time away from my family.”
“Well, I don’t blame you. Those boys run you ragged.”
“I think I’m going to join the hunt for the pool house,” Hillary whispered, and skipped around the pool, hurrying off in the direction of the women. Harrison didn’t have the chance to call her back or grab onto her shirt and follow her, so was left standing awkwardly, watching mother and daughter have it out.
“I mean you, too, Mom!” Amy insisted. “And Dad! And why aren’t you talking to him? He doesn’t know where you are, and he’s calling me, even though Kevin isright there, and why can’t you let me have this?”
“Your father would know where I was if he listened,” Barb said with a sniff. “Oh, honey, don’t worry! It will all be fine. You won’t even know the Bossy Posse is here.”
Harrison didn’t know about Amy, but he doubted he would actually sleep again, because there was no way he wouldn’t be aware every moment that four elderly women were tromping around this house in matching sweatshirts and blinking antlers. He looked at Amy.
She looked as sick as he felt.
16
Even for Amy’s ridiculous family, this was insane. In what possible universe did her mother think coming out here and taking over the house with the Bossy Posse was okay? And what was she going to do about it? She did not want to have an O.K. Corral shoot-out with her mother in front of Harrison but comeon.
Her arrival into Amy’s space made her feel like she was a child again and her mother was sneaking up to make sure she wasn’t doing anything she ought not to be. That, on top of Julie telling her she was acting like a seventeen-year-old, had turned this into a not-so-great day. And it had started off so amazingly.
This morning, after Julie had left her feeling like an old crone, Amy had showered and tried to spruce herself up. But then Ethan had called to complain that Jonah wouldn’t do anything with him, and he was “so bored.” As she put on makeup, she assured him she would talk to his brother. Jonah texted her before she could even dress.Mom are you high I am not hanging out with Ethan bc Trace is here.
When Amy had dressed, she called Ethan back and suggested several things he might do to entertain himself.
“But those are boring!” Ethan complained. “Jonah can play Roblox with me.”
Jonah was apparently standing there, listening to the conversation, because he suddenly shouted, “Roblox is lame, E. It’s for little kids.” That was followed by more remarks between Trace and Jonah that Amy could not make out, followed by a lot of laughing to which Ethan began shouting, “Shut up!”
“Ethan!” Amy said sternly. “Where is your father?”
Ethan stopped shouting at Jonah. “I don’t know. Where’s Dad?” he asked Jonah. In the background, Amy heard Jonah say he didn’t know.
She managed to calm Ethan down somewhat and get off the phone. As she finished dressing, her rage bubbled. She sent a strongly worded text to Ryan about his oversight before emerging from her room and walking to the kitchen. She didn’t see Harrison anywhere. Great. She’d taken so long he’d probably flown back to Florida by now.
She fed Duchess, then strolled around the property, shivering in the cold air. She had at last convinced herself to go to the studio and try and paint, or risk having nothing to show for these two weeks other than a broken heart and memories of awesome sex.
In the studio, she’d left the door open. If anyone asked, it was to let fresh air in. She hoped they didn’t ask, because it was so cold. And if they didn’t ask, then the door was open in the hopes that Harrison would show up (with more delicious pastries), or she’d hear him and have an excuse to pop her head out of the door and say hi.
Okay, so maybe she’d been acting like a teenager today. But was it so ridiculous that she wished the man she was sleeping with would come and see what she was doing? Was it so crazy to want to hang out with the best sex she’d had in years? It wasn’t like she was hoping he’d put a ring on it, for God’s sake. She simply wanted to enjoy more of what she’d been experiencing this week.
And if she kept telling herself that, she might believe it.
Anyway, it hardly mattered, because it was clear he wasn’t around, so she’d forced herself to look at her paintings.
That was when her doldrums really set in, becausegag, her paintings. She had finally recognized what was bothering her about her work: she wasn’t impressed. She looked at what she’d done so far—the Christmas view of the lake, the start of a rustic kitchen scene with a tree—and she felt blah about them. There was nothing interesting in them. She had realized that this wasn’t what she wanted to paint. She was painting what she thought the gallery and the art contest wanted her to paint.
It wasn’t that the paintings were bad. But they weren’tgood. They weren’t the sort of thing that would make her sit up and take notice.
