Kate was surprised at the flare of anger she felt. “Dance is the only thing Marah and I do together. I was going to have a party for her here.”

“Oh.”

She could tell her husband wanted to say more, but he was too smart to do it. He knew this wasn’t his call.

Finally Kate sighed. She was being selfish and they both knew it. Marah idolized her godmother and would love a surprise party. “What time will she be here?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR

On the day of the recital Marah was so nervous and excited she could barely contain her emotions. As usual, the stress of it all turned her into a pint-sized diva given to jumbo-jet-sized tantrums. Now she stood by the dining room table, one hand on her hip, dressed in faded low-rise jeans and a pink top that read Baby One More Time in rhinestones. An inch of skin showed between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans. “Where did you put my butterfly barrettes?”

Hunched over the sewing machine, Kate barely glanced up. “They’re in your bathroom drawer. Top one. And you’re not wearing that top out of the house.”

Marah’s mouth dropped open. “But it was a birthday present.”

“Yeah, well, your Aunt Tully is an idiot.”

“Everyone gets to dress like this.”

“You’re breaking my heart. Really. Now go change. I don’t have time to argue with you.”

Marah sighed dramatically and stormed back upstairs.

Kate shook her head. It wasn’t just the recital. Everything with Marah lately was high drama. Her daughter was either giggling and happy or flat-out pissed. Whenever Mom saw her granddaughter she laughed, lit up a smoke, and said, “Oh, the teen years will be fun. You should start drinking before it’s too late.”

Kate bent closer to the machine, put her foot on the pedal, and went back to work.

As it turned out, that ended up being the last time she paused for almost two hours. Then, as soon as she’d finished the costumes for the dance recital, she rushed on to her other chores—finding hangers, packing the car, helping the boys brush their teeth, and breaking up fights. Thankfully Johnny took care of dinner and the dishes.

At six o’clock, she herded everyone to the car and helped the boys into their car seats, then took her own seat. “Have I forgotten anything?”

Johnny looked at her. “You have spaghetti sauce on your forehead.”

She flipped down the visor and saw herself in the tiny rectangular mirror. Sure enough, she had a streak of red across her brow.

“I didn’t take a shower,” she said, horrified.

“I wondered about that,” Johnny said.

She turned to him. “You knew?”

“When I told you it was five o’clock you bit my head off and told me to make dinner.”