“Okay,” I say, trying to keep the uninvited tremor out of my voice. I allow myself to be led back into the main room and then out through the front door. I turn back and stare once I’m outside. But he’s already disappeared back into the depths of the store.

“Star!” exclaims the blond woman who answers the door at my father’s house that night. She’s wearing a black cocktail dress and a string of ivory pearls around her neck. Her hair’s up in a twist. She looks awfully fancy for a family dinner. “I’m your father’s wife, Lynda. What an honor to have you here!”

My stepmother, I think. Stepmom.

“It’s nice to be here,” I respond as I follow her into the house, drinking in every detail as I go. The house is spotless. The sofas in the living room look faded as Lynda leads me through to the dining room, and the TV they face is small and at least a decade old. But everything looks freshly vacuumed and dusted.

“We had a cleaning service come in today and freshen the place up,” Lynda says proudly, as if reading my mind. “We wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say in surprise.

“Oh no, Peter insisted,” she says. “Your dad, I mean.”

It sounds weird to hear her say that. I force a smile and follow her into the dining room. Her words keep replaying in my head. Your dad. Your dad. Your dad.

“Please, Star, have a seat,” Lynda says, leading me over to the dining room table. It has already been set—with nice, white china and sparkling glasses.

“Do you use china every night?” I ask, imagining my father having fancy dinners every time he comes home from work.

“Oh no,” Lynda laughs. “This is our special-occasion china. Now have a seat, dear. I’ll go get Alison and Peter—er, your dad.”

I sit down awkwardly in a high-backed dining room chair and wait. I’m feeling uneasy. I didn’t want my dad and his wife to go to any trouble. I feel weird enough already without them making this such a big production. But maybe it means my father is just eager to get back into my life.

I wish for a moment that I had someone familiar here with me. Ben, maybe. Or Jesse. Or even Nick, although that doesn’t seem like much of a possibility. I resolve to try to forget about him. For now, anyhow.