The Parent Trap(64)
“I’m sure it’s fine.” She slid off her stool, looking somewhat timid at first, and gave him an awkward hug. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”
He believed her. Their father-daughter relationship had taken a giant leap in the right direction, and while he knew there were bound to be a few bumps in the road ahead, they were actually communicating.
“Are you going to finish your sandwich?”
“Can I take it upstairs? I want to call Casey. And Sarah.”
“Of course. But before you make those calls, will you do one thing for me?”
“Sure.”
“Call your mom and let her know you’re okay. She’s waiting to hear from you.”
Her enthusiasm waned a little. “It’s pretty late over there.”
“It doesn’t matter. She wants to hear your voice.”
“Okay.” She picked up her plate and glass and disappeared out of the kitchen.
For a few minutes he just sat there, mulling over the evening’s events, then he went to work on the kitchen, putting things away in the fridge, loading the dishwasher, wiping down the counter. He was bone-tired and exhilarated all at the same time. He’d like to talk to Sarah, too, but he’d already imposed on her enough for one day. Still, a text message might be appropriate.
He tracked down his phone, retrieved a binder from his briefcase in the foyer and flipped to the page of contact information for the girls on the soccer team.
You were right about compromise. Thank you.
That should do it. It sounded formal but he couldn’t bring himself to use the accepted shorthand and symbols that kids used in text messages, though, so he left it as it was, punched in her number and sent it. Her reply came a moment later.
U R welcome. Knew U cld do it. Congrats! :-)
He smiled, set the phone on the counter, picked it up, read it again. Kate was right. Sarah was pretty cool. Maybe he should reply. He typed:
:-)
Delete, delete, delete.
He didn’t know why it seemed lame when he did it, but it did. Better to leave things as they were. Kate was home where she belonged. He and Sarah were on good terms. There was a school dance on Friday. For now he could finally say life is good, and he’d like it to stay that way.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ON THURSDAY AFTERNOON, Sarah was in her office when Kate arrived at the store.
“Is there anything you’d like me to do?” she asked.
“Before we get started, I’d like you to come in and sit down.” Sarah took her briefcase off the spare chair and patted the seat. “The first thing we’re going to do is set some ground rules.” She stopped short of tacking a stern “young lady” to the end of her sentence.
Kate, who apparently reserved her derisive eye roll for her father, sat with her gaze lowered to the hands folded sedately in her lap. “My dad knows I’m here.”
“I know he does. He called before he went to soccer practice to let me know you were on your way.” Half expecting some attitude from the girl, Sarah softened her tone a little. “He and I were worried sick when you and Casey took off after school the other day.”
Kate looked up then, and for the first time since that night, there was genuine concern in her eyes. “It wasn’t Casey’s fault. She was worried, too, and she wanted to go with me so I wouldn’t be alone, but I shouldn’t have let her.”
“You’re right about that, and you shouldn’t have gone, either.”
A spark of defiance glittered in the girl’s eyes, and faded almost as fast. “I know. My dad and I talked and he said he was going to lighten up.”
“He loves you, you know. He only wants what’s best for you.”
“I know, but he never used to ask what I wanted.”
Sarah took one of Kate’s slender hands in both of hers, thinking the iciness of the girl’s skin was a good match for her demeanor. “Did you ever think you should tell him?”
“No. I figured he’d think my ideas were dumb. He probably still thinks I should be a lawyer or something.”
“Did he say that?”
“No, but he’s all about wanting me to study all the time and get good grades and stuff.”
“So why don’t you tell me what you see yourself doing someday.” She had already heard it from Casey, but she wanted Kate to actually say it out loud to a grown-up.
“I want to work for a fashion magazine.”
“What’s your favorite magazine?”
“Seventeen.” She said it without hesitation.
“And what do you see yourself doing if you get a job there?”
The girl shrugged, as though nothing she dreamed of doing someday had any validity. “Photography, maybe. Writing articles about designers and celebrities.”