“Well, then they should wear clothes with more coverage.” Abigail had tut-tutted at the micro-minidresses the Silliman girls had worn to prom. Why had the Empire waist gone out of fashion? It was universally flattering. “I don’t understand why the guests’ comfort is the host’s responsibility, at least in this area. I hope they don’t get caught up in all of that.”

“Mom, Chase and Penny have great taste. I have no doubt the wedding will be a classy, if not classic, affair. They have their own style. Well, Penny does anyway. And, come on, Cal leeeeee,” she sang, thrilled by the prospect of a California wedding.

“I do wish they were getting married here and not there even though that’s not the tradition,” Abigail said, wriggling out of the dress and laying it carefully on her bed. She slipped on a T-shirt dress as Sarah watched. They’d always had an easy relationship with each other because there was zero competition between the mother and daughter. Working in a private high school, Abigail had observed so many difficult relationships between the generations of women that usually revolved around who was the prettiest or sexiest, as if mother and daughter were in competition for the same man. That sort of dynamic turned Abigail’s stomach. Nobody’s mother needed to be sexy. And nobody’s teen daughter needed to be either.

Abigail figured that the secret to her relationship with Sarah was mutual respect and the fact that neither wanted to be the other in any way, shape, or form. Honestly, Sarah was a complete mystery to Abigail with her focused athletic life on the field and her easily pleased life off the field. Sarah welcomed all manner of people in all manner of places. Happy as a clam with a beer and clam roll, George once said about his daughter, oblivious to the cannibalistic undertones of the statement. But it was true. Sarah was Sarah in every setting, from debutante ball to backyard barbecue. Chase had described his sister as “part golden retriever,” and she was in the best possible way.

And Abigail remained a mystery to Sarah, who would never understand her mother’s reverence for tradition, her constant state of stress about propriety, and her tendency to judge first, enjoy second. But nobody’s mother on the team had ever cheered louder for their daughter’s efforts. She would always be grateful to her parents for being enthusiastic but not over-the-top. Sarah suspected it was because they never really understood the rules of field hockey.

“What do you think of Penny?” Abigail asked carefully, not making eye contact by rooting through her closet, even though she knew the item she was looking for was right in front of her.