Lauren’s heart saddened at the expression on her mother’s face, hating that she’d had to be so real, so blunt with her. This living in the past had to stop, and new attitudes might as well start immediately, with her new writing contract. They couldn’t remain in the dark forever. “All you have to do is take a close look at the bank statements, Mom. While we’re not in debt, thank goodness, we aren’t making much profit in the store. Again, if you and Dad would consider adding a website for Razzle Dazzle, I wouldn’t be surprised if sales for the month of December would carry us throughout the year. You both have to open your eyes and see what’s really happening in the world today.” Lauren went to the sink, rinsed her mug out, and placed it in the dishwasher.

“I can see exactly what is happening,” her father said, entering the kitchen. He was fully showered, shaved, and dressed. The scent of Prell shampoo clung to his damp hair, and the faintest odor of a new cologne wafted off him.

“Dad,” Lauren said.

“Lauren,” he returned, his voice matter-of-fact.

Her mother hurried to make a cup of coffee for her husband. “Al, sit down. Lauren wants to talk to you. I’m not going to play referee, either.”

“Good morning to you too, Ilene,” her father said, in what Lauren thought of as his king-of-the-castle tone of voice. He sat in his usual place, and Lauren saw no sign that his movements were a struggle. Maybe today was going to be one of his better days.

Her mother placed the coffee in front of him. “I’m going upstairs to shower. You two can help yourselves to cereal or whatever you want.”

Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. This was her mother’s way of telling her dad to “deal with it or else,” without actually saying the words. There had been a few episodes like this when she was a teenager. Times changed. She was not going to play along with their childlike games.

“I’m not having breakfast,” Lauren said. “You need help with yours?” This was the least she could do. He was, after all, on many days unable to do much of anything other than sit down.

“I am perfectly capable of making my own bowl of cereal, Lauren,” he said. “I’ll eat in a bit.” He sipped at his coffee, his gaze appearing to be a million miles away.

“Look, Dad, I know you’re upset with me. About the book. But I can’t pass up this opportunity. It would be foolish of me. And of you to think I shouldn’t take it.”

“I haven’t said anything about this to you, so why do you assume that I’m against it?” He directed his gaze to hers.