“Sweetie, not everything is how it appears.” Tess folded her arms and lowered her chin. “For your information, Grace’s gymnastics coach hates me for no apparent reason, but since Grace loves her, we stick around. Last week, at the equestrian center, I stepped in a fresh pile of grade-A horse poop. In open-toed shoes. Cleaning them off caused us to run late for gymnastics class, which made the coach an even bigger fan of mine. Shall I continue?”
The appropriate answer would be no. But Audra found herself nodding.
“Let’s see,” Tess said. “Oh, yeah. I hate those stuffy legal dinners, almost as much as attending PTA meetings. Trust me, you don’t know misery until you’ve sat through two hours—seriously, two hours—of women arguing over the shape and color of confetti we should sprinkle at a fifth-grade graduation picnic.”
Audra fought off a grin.
“Feel any better?”
Audra couldn’t deny that she did. “Why on earth haven’t you ever said any of this before?”
“I don’t know. I suppose, with everything you’ve been through, I felt like my problems were nothing to whine about.”
Ironically, even selfishly, Audra had found that hearing other people’s hardships could be somewhat therapeutic. “In the future, please don’t hold back.”
Tess lifted her mug, as if to seal the pledge with an invisible clink. “Deal,” she said, and gulped down the rest. “Now, what do you say we all go to the park? That way we can show off our awful parenting skills in public.”
Audra laughed. “Perfect.”
Rounding up the kids took the same effort as herding a litter of cats. Audra and Tess alternated orders like two sergeants sharing a post.
Put your shoes on. Go to the bathroom; try to go anyway. Yes, I’ve got bread for the ducks. Did you wash your hands? No, you can’t go without socks. Because I don It want to hear complaints about a blister. I thought I told you to wash your hands.
A century later, they were all heading toward the door. Grace, her light hair in double braids, trotted over the threshold. Jack had retrieved his scooter from the laundry room. He was walking it out, wearing shorts and a long-sleeved Timbers shirt. It had been over a year since Audra had encouraged him to ride. He insisted he could steer just fine with his cast. Though with reservations, she agreed.
“Jack, wait,” Audra said. “You forgot your helmet.”
“I’ll be fine,” he said, anxious to go.
Tess piped in, “But your brain won’t be if it rams the pavement.”
“Exactly my point.” Audra smiled. “You guys go on out. I’ll grab it for him.”
Tess ushered them onward, hugging a grocery bag of their picnic food, as Audra went to Jack’s room. The place looked like a hurricane had hit. Pajamas and toys were strewn on the floor. The covers on his bed were half off and twisted. Her request that he tidy before company arrived had clearly gone unheeded.
Oddly enough, she didn’t mind all that much. It was nice to see him act like a typical boy.
The inside of the closet wasn’t much better. It took serious scrounging to locate the helmet, streaked in blue and yellow, amid his old cleats and shin guards.
Maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world to see if he wanted to play soccer again—at some point. Once his arm healed.
They would try the scooter first.
She closed the closet and her sandal landed on something sticky. Dabs of glue were adhering paper scraps to the carpet. “Jack,” she grumbled.
She cleaned up the pieces, evidently from a school project, and threw them away before they could dry. After washing her hands, she hurried outside with the helmet. She was locking the door when she heard somebody speaking to Tess.
Audra followed the concrete walkway around a heap of overgrown bushes and discovered a guy crouched down beside Jack.
“Oh, there she is!” Tess said. “Audra, we just ran into your friend.”
The man stood up with a smile that halted her steps.
Sean Malloy.
“Hey,” he said. He wore faded jeans and a black cotton shirt, just snug enough to highlight the broadness of his chest and shoulders. His face was clean-shaven, but his hair, while not disheveled like before, still had a relaxed, finger-brushed style.
“What’re you doing here?” That hadn’t come out right. “I mean, I didn’t know you were stopping by.”
“I was just running errands in the area.” He slid his hands into his front pockets. “Sorry. Guess I’ve been making a habit of showing up unannounced.”
“No, it’s okay. I did too. Or—have, anyway. Made a habit.” That wasn’t right either; a habit required more than her single house call. “If I were to visit you again. At your aunt’s house, that is. Without warning.”