Despite her concerns, Lucy had to admit Sara looked adorable in her outfit, a short skirt and tank top in the team colors of red and white. She’d tied her hair up in a perky pony tail and was practically bouncing in her seat when Lucy pulled into the Westwoods’ driveway. As usual, several cats were sunning and grooming themselves in various spots on the warm asphalt, and the dog, an aged golden retriever, ran out to greet them. There was no sign of the controversial pot-bellied pig; Lucy supposed it was kept in a pen of some sort. Or perhaps it was an indoor pet. She figured she’d make its acquaintance one of these days.

Sassie was excited, too, and as soon as she jumped in the car the girls began practicing their cheers. Lucy would have liked to ask them about the boys on the team, and warn them to sit together on the bus, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. There wasn’t even time to say good-bye when she pulled up at the high school; the girls were out of the car the second it stopped.

As she watched them run to the bus, their shiny white saddle shoes gleaming in the sunlight, she figured something was definitely up. Her highly sophisticated maternal radar could detect when the anti-parental defense shield was in operation, but her shield-piercing missile was unfortunately still in development. She hoped to have it operational by the time Zoe was in high school.

Lucy’s mind was miles away, trying to think of a tactic that would get Sara to open up, when she arrived at the outlet mall with three hundred and sixty individually-wrapped gourmet dog biscuits. The sale was scheduled to start at nine, when the mall opened but now, at a few minutes past eight, Chris was already setting up tables.

“Hi, Lucy,” she said, greeting Lucy with a big smile. “I see you’re another early bird.”

“I had to drop my daughter off at the high school. The big Northport game is today and she’s a cheerleader.”

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” said Chris. “I’m trying to decide if public school will be challenging enough for Pear and Apple or whether I should start researching private schools.”

“The public school’s the only game in town, unless you’re considering the Christian academy run by the Revelation Congregation.”

“Christian academy?” Chris was laying colorful sheets over the tables. “I guess that would be okay. We’re Episcopalian.”

“They don’t believe in evolution,” explained Lucy. “They teach something called intelligent design.”

Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “That would hardly prepare Apple and Pear for Harvard or Duke,” she said.

“Hardly,” agreed Lucy. “Where do you want the dog biscuits?”

“At the far end,” said Chris. “There are some signs in my car—would you mind getting them?”