It was late afternoon by the time I got home from the beach. I dropped my towel and bag by the base of the stairs. "Mom?" I called.
"In the kitchen."
I found her looking in the oven. "How's it going?"
"Right on schedule." She stood up and eased the door shut. "I might need an extra set of hands later, though."
She never asked Tiffany, who had no interest, for help in the kitchen. When I didn't have schoolwork to do, I usually enjoyed cooking with my mom, and tonight would be even more special. "I just need to shower."
"How was the beach?" she asked. "You got a tan."
"Did I?" I inspected my arm. It looked a little red to me. "It was fun. We got milkshakes at the end of the pier after."
She smiled. "Hope you left room for pie."
I hadn't forgotten. Last night, Mom had walked me through making a pie for tonight. I couldn't wait to see Manning's reaction. "I'll come help when I'm ready," I said.
I went up to the bathroom and turned on the shower. I pushed my regular products aside. Tiffany hid her expensive shampoo and conditioner on the back of the shelf, even though she warned me all the time not to use them, and I never once had . . . until today.
After carefully reading the instructions on the back, I washed my hair twice. Then, I saturated it with conditioner and shaved my legs slowly, carefully, from ankle to upper thigh. After rinsing and toweling off, I used one of Tiffany's lotions.
I'd never felt so soft and silky. I picked a sundress to show off my smooth skin. Tiffany said having a tan made you look thinner, and she was right.
After checking the hall to make sure Tiffany wasn't around, I went into her makeup drawer. I'd burned. Not badly, but my face and shoulders were pink. The sun had also darkened the smattering of freckles across my nose and cheeks. I didn't trust myself with makeup, so I kept it simple with just mascara and pink lip gloss. Despite the redness, or maybe because of it, my eyes seemed bluer. My teeth whiter. And for once, I saw what others did.
I looked like Tiffany.
After washing basil and slicing tomatoes and Mozzarella, I prepared five Caprese salads. Not knowing which would go to Manning, I took extra care to drizzle the olive oil and balsamic vinegar evenly.
"Where is Tiffany?" Mom asked.
I didn't look up. Didn't want to lose focus. "Maybe she changed her mind about him. She does that."
"I hope she would've told someone. At least him. Otherwise, we're in for an uncomfortable dinner."
I smiled. "Manning's easy to get along with. It won't be uncomfortable."
The front door opened, and Tiffany breezed into the house with paper shopping bags on each arm. "Manning will be here any minute. Is dinner ready?"
"We were afraid you might not make it." Mom pulled off her oven mitts. "Is that what you're wearing?"
"Of course not." Tiffany set the bags on the kitchen table, disrupting a pile of silverware. She pulled out a package. "I got the cutest outfit." She unwrapped white tissue and held up a short leopard print tube dress. "It's like what Drew Barrymore wears in the Guess? ad."
"Oh, that's darling." Mom always said stuff like that when Tiffany went shopping. The dress was too skimpy for Mom, but she and Tiffany shared clothes a lot. "It's not too dressy for tonight?"
Tiffany shoved it all back in the bag. "We'll probably go somewhere after."
"Well, wear something over it during dinner. Your dad won't like that it's so revealing."
"Duh. I'm not an amateur," she said.
"I know, honey," Mom said as she went to the sink to wash her hands. "Your sister and I have been working on dinner for an hour. Will you set the table?"
Tiffany grabbed her bags. "Mom. I have exactly five minutes to transform myself."
"Then why'd you wait until the last minute?" I pointed out.
Tiffany stuck out her tongue. "Did you get wine?" she asked Mom. "He might want some with dinner."
"I got wine." Mom wiped her hands on her apron. "He can have one glass. No more if he's taking you out afterward."
Tiffany flurried out of the kitchen the same way she'd come in, a tornado of crinkling paper bags and blonde hair. Would he really take her out tonight? If so, where would they go? It would be late when dinner ended. Too late for me to go with them, if I'd even be invited. Tiffany and her friends hung out until after midnight on the weekends. They had ways of getting alcohol. It was Thursday, but life was one big weekend to Tiffany. She had no job to get to in the morning, but Manning did. Didn't that mean anything?
I was straightening my tomatoes when the doorbell rang. My heart stopped.
Mom showed me her oven-mitted hands. "Can you get that, honey?"
I went through the house and stood at the front door, listening. Tiffany was still upstairs getting ready, and Dad was in his study. It was just me and Manning, and that wouldn't be the case for long. It seemed unfair that even though I'd seen him first, even though he was my friend, I had to savor my time with Manning before it was stolen.
I opened the door to Manning standing on the top step in jeans and a black, collared button-down he wore open over a white t-shirt. He'd shaved and gelled his hair back. I'd half expected him to show up in his work boots, but I thought he might even be wearing cologne.
I held onto the door handle until my hand began to sweat. Manning's dark eyes mostly stayed on my face, except for the second they flashed down, all the way to my ankles. Maybe men had some kind of radar for freshly shaven legs.
"Hi," I said. Dumb. I wanted to tell him how nice he looked.
A cricket chirped out front as Manning white-knuckled a bouquet of pink tulips. "You look different."
I straightened my shoulders a bit and tried not to smile. "So do you."
"Are you wearing makeup?"
"A little." I pointed my foot, showing him my leg. "I got a tan."
He didn't look. I moved aside so he could duck into the entryway. One of his tennis shoes could easily crush both my bare feet. I was nearly eye-level with the flowers. It was a good guess-my mom loved tulips.
"I hope you like steak? We should've checked with you first."
"I'll eat most anything. But yes, Tiffany already asked."
That meant they'd spoken since the fair on Saturday. When? It shouldn't have surprised me. Of course, she'd had to tell him when to be here, and maybe she'd also mentioned the tulips. It occurred to me that they might've even seen each other.
"She called," Manning said, catching my eye. "Just about dinner and timing and stuff. That's all."
"Oh." We both looked up when we heard footfalls upstairs. Finally, I closed the front door. "Come meet my mom. My dad'll be out in a second. He usually works in his office until dinner starts." I showed Manning into the kitchen.
Mom turned around, smiled widely, and came to us. "It's so nice to meet you, Manning."
"You too, Mrs. Kaplan." He held out the flowers, but she went past them for a hug. He bent down to make it easier but was otherwise stiff. "These are for you."
"You shouldn't have." She took the bouquet. Mom had twisted her hair back from her face, and as she inhaled, a few strands fell forward. "My favorite. Thank you."
"Thank you for having me. Dinner smells great."
"I've been in here all evening, so even if you don't like the steak, say you do." Mom laughed. Nobody ever disliked her food, but she said that a lot. "Lake helped," she said, and as an afterthought, added, "Tiffany, too. She's great in the kitchen."
"She is not," I said. "She wouldn't even set the table."
"Lake, honey." Mom chuckled and passed me the bouquet. "Put these in water and get our guest something to drink."
I frowned. I just wanted Manning to know I'd done my part of the cooking with him in mind. But when he nodded at me and patted his stomach, I understood-he did know.
"I put some wine out on the bar," Mom told me. "You like wine, don't you, Manning?"
He hesitated. "Sure."
It didn't sound convincing. "Dad has beer, too," I said.
"It's okay. Wine is great."
I put the flowers in a vase, then went to Dad's bar and carried two heavy bottles back into the kitchen. I'd never opened wine before, though I'd seen it done plenty of times. I set them on the island and went to find the screw-looking thing Mom used. I rifled through a couple drawers before picking out what I was pretty sure was the right utensil. I had no idea how it worked, though.
"Did you grow up here, Manning?" Mom asked.