Despite all of that, her biggest problem was Ali herself. The girl was moody, uncooperative, and whiny. Her hair was terrible, she claimed. Her stomach was upset. She didn’t want to go to the recital. She hated recitals. She hated everything.

Her patience strained, Laura tried one more time to style Ali’s hair to the child’s specifications.

“Honey, if you’re nervous about tonight, it’s all right. You’ll be wonderful. You always are.”

“I’m not nervous.” Ali pouted into the mirror. “I never get nervous before I dance. I just don’t want to go.”

“People are depending on you—your instructors, the other girls in your troupe. The family. You know how excited Grandma and Granddad were when they left for Uncle Josh’s. Everyone’s looking forward to tonight.”

“I can’t depend on anybody, can I? I have to do what I say I’ll do, but nobody else does.”

Around the circuit again, Laura thought. “I’m sorry you’re disappointed your father won’t be there. He’s—”

“I don’t care about him.” In a bad-tempered move, Ali shrugged and scooted out from under her mother’s hands. “He never comes anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Nothing. I’ll go. I’ll do it because I keep my promises. My hair looks much better now,” she said with dignity. “Thank you.”

“Honey, if you’d—”

“I have to finish getting dressed.” She pressed her lips together, a small girl, pretty in her tights and ballet skirt. “It’s not your fault, Mama. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I’m not angry with you.”

“Then what—”

“Mama!” Kaya’s wail bounced down the hallway. “I can’t find my red shoes. I want to wear my red ones.”

“You can go help her,” Ali said and tried to smile. “I’ll be downstairs in a minute. Thanks for doing my hair over.”

“It’s all right.” Because she could see the sorrow haunting Ali’s eyes, she leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks. “I love playing with your hair. And I suppose if you wanted to put just a little of that lip gloss on, it would be all right.”

“You mean before we go, not just for onstage?”

“Just for tonight.” Laura tapped her fingers against Ali’s lips. “You’re not growing up on me any faster than I can help it.”

“Maaamaaa, my shoes.”

“And neither is she,” Laura murmured. “I’m coming. Downstairs, Ali, ten minutes tops.”

She found the shoes. Who would have expected to find them right there on the shoe shelf in the closet? After pulling a brush through her own hair, Laura herded her girls toward the door.