There was no point in lying. "Not really."
Mrs. M. went straight to the wet bar in the living room—an addition in the late eighties—and poured two glasses of wine. Handing one to Tully, she led the way into the living room and sat down on the new leopard-print sofa. Behind their heads the wall was full of family photos now. Jesus and Elvis still held center stage, but around them were dozens of school photos of Marah and the twins; Johnny and Kate's wedding pictures; Sean's graduate school graduation photos; and a few here and there of Tully. "Okay, what's the problem?"
Tully sat down in the newest edition of Mr. Mularkey's favorite recliner. "Kate is mad at me."
"Why?"
"Marah called me last week and wanted to talk to me about a modeling thing in New York—"
"Oh, boy."
"I offered to help her talk to her folks about it, but the second Kate heard about it, she went wacko. She refused to even listen to Marah."
"Marah is thirteen years old."
"That's old enough to—"
"No," Mrs. M. said crisply, then she smiled gently. "I know you're just trying to help, Tully, but Kate's right to try to protect Marah."
"Marah hates her."
"That's how it seems with thirteen-year-old girls and their mothers. You don't know, maybe, because Cloud was so different, but girls and their mothers often go through a rough patch. You don't make it better by giving the kids everything they want."
"I'm not suggesting they should give her everything, but she has real talent. I think she could be a supermodel."
"And if she were, what would happen?"
"She'd be rich and famous. She could be a millionaire by seventeen."
Mrs. M. leaned forward. "You're mega-rich, right?"
"Right."
"Does that make you whole? Is success worth what Marah would give up for it—her childhood, her innocence, her family? I have watched some of those made-for-TV movies about young models. There's all kinds of drugs and sex and such around them."
"I'd watch out for her. What matters is that she has found something she loves. That should be nurtured, not ignored. And I'm afraid Marah and Kate won't find their way back. You should hear how Marah talks about her."
"You're worried about Marah," Mrs. M. said, eyeing Tully over the rim of her glass. "I think you're looking at the wrong player. Kate is the one who needs you now."
"Kate?"
"The problems with Marah are eating her up alive. Those two have to figure out how to talk to each other without screaming or crying." She looked at Tully. "And you need to be Katie's friend first."
"Are you saying it's my fault?"
"Of course not. I'm saying that Katie needs her best friend beside her. You two have always been each other's armor and sword. I know how much Marah idolizes you—and how much you like to be idolized." She smiled knowingly. "But you can't take sides in this unless it's Katie's."
"I just wanted to—"
"She's not your daughter."
And there it was. Tully hadn't realized until just now, this second, what had driven her to get so involved. She loved Marah, sure, but there was more to it than that, wasn't there? And Mrs. M. had seen it. Marah was the perfect child for Tully—gorgeous, ambitious, a little selfish. Best of all, she thought Tully was flawless. "So, what do I say to Marah?"
"That she has her whole life in front of her. If she's as good and talented as you believe, she'll make it when she's old enough to handle it."
Tully sat back in the recliner, sighing. "How long do you think Kate will stay mad at me?"
Mrs. M. laughed. "You two have more ups and downs than an Internet stock. Everything will be fine. Just quit trying to be Marah's best friend and be there for Katie."
