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Back The Favorite Daughter Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. Quote
  6. SUNDAY
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. MONDAY
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. TUESDAY
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. WEDNESDAY
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. THURSDAY
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. DEAR READER LETTER
  55. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  56. READERS GROUP DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  57. Best Day Ever

I meant it. When he asked me to come home with him, that it was time, I shook my head no. “I can’t.”

“We can take it slow, Jane. Promise. I’m a gentleman. Just come home with me.”

I’d pretended to deliberate as I watched the sun plunge into the ocean, as his knee pressed against my leg, the heat spreading through my body. I remember coaching myself, as my mother had once done during pageants. Pace yourself, Jane. If you want the prize, you cannot be too eager. The trophy is so shiny, Jane. But you must not grab, you must make them want to give it to you.

I touched his hand lightly and then pulled away. “I better not. I have work in the morning. But can I see you this weekend?” I blinked and stared into his deep blue eyes. I have a work ethic, too, David.

“Of course.” His eyes twinkled with desire.

I was familiar with that look, both then and now. It’s my superpower. I’ll bump into guys I dated in the past, or a friend of a guy I dated in the past. They all still give me the look even if they’ve been married for years. They still feel my power.

Sam pulls to the curb in front of my home in the “most highly sought after” community in Orange County. I’m just repeating what’s in the brochures. I try not to believe any hype but my own. “Thanks, Sam. See you tomorrow. I’ll let you know if David decides to drive me to graduation.”

“Big day tomorrow.” Sam waves without smiling and slips back into his car. I think he might still be mad about my outburst. I wave as he drives away. I probably won’t see him again. Sam has been a great crutch this past year. But like most things in life, there is an end date to his usefulness. And it’s now. I imagine an expiration date stamped on his forehead and chuckle.

It’s also funny Sam is talking about tomorrow. He doesn’t realize there is still so much more left of today.

25

4:15 p.m.

I walk through the front door and check the time on my phone.

It’s late afternoon on a Wednesday. The question is where are David and Betsy. I don’t expect them to be home, of course. Not anymore. But I do like to know where they are.