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“Que será, será,” Lucy said with a wild and desperate gaiety.
“What we do at the clinic works,” Sari said. “I could show you studies-”
Her mother finally acknowledged her, but only by making a phhhtt noise and waving her hand dismissively. “Studies. Oh, please. You can't tell from those. Take any child and look at him again a few years later. Who's to say what he would have been as opposed to what he is? Only the Supreme Being. Not us. Certainly not some scientist collecting data.” She spat out the last word as if it were repulsive to her.
“You've got it all backward,” Sari said. “Science is the one thing that does tell us anything. It shows us that when kids are worked with the right way, they improve.”
“No,” Eloise said. “You can fuss and bother and drive the children crazy with all your therapy jibber-jabber, but in the end, it's all up to Him.”
“I wish to hell he'd open up a clinic then,” Sari said. “We have a waiting list at ours. The least he could do is take up some of the slack.”
“More wine?” said her father, appearing in the doorway with a freshly opened bottle.
V
Kathleen's mind wandered on the drive over to her sisters’ house, and she found herself thinking not about the people and the meal she had just left, but about cooking with Sam Kaplan that morning. He had taken it all so seriously that of course she had to rebel and fool around every way possible. He wouldn't let her off the hook, not even when she dropped an egg on the floor and it broke into a huge mess-just insisted that she clean it up, and then forced her to crack the other eggs correctly, his hand guiding hers, his arm against hers, his body close behind hers.
If he had been any other guy between the age of fifteen and sixty, Kathleen would have suspected him of using the cooking as an excuse to get physically close to her. But Sam seemed genuinely determined to teach her to cook and his expression was one of grim determination rather than flirtation. And yet…
She left the thought dangling. She didn't know why.
She had arrived at her sisters’. She rolled down her window and punched in the security code for the gate. The man who installed it had suggested they program in a new number every six months. They had never changed it from his original example. It was 1111 and would, Kathleen suspected, remain 1111 until someone else lived there.
Her mother was already opening the front door by the time Kathleen had parked her car and walked up the steps. “Where have you been?” Her mother threw her arms around her. “You're late.”
“Sorry,” Kathleen said. It felt good to be hugged by her mother, even if their height differences made it a little silly. Caro hadn't hugged Kevin, had just given him and Kathleen equally distant air kisses. “Kevin's father-”
Her mother was already pulling her toward the dining room. “We started without you. We're almost done.”
“Good. I already ate. I told you we'd go to Kevin's first.”
“Where is Kevin?” Her mother looked back over Kathleen's shoulder as if he might appear.
“He got tied up at his folks’, so I came without him.”
“Well, the good news is that that leaves us with an even number.”
“Why is that good?”
“It just is,” her mother said and steered her into the dining room. “Kathleen's here, everybody!”
Eyes turned toward her, and Kathleen's heart sank as she realized that in addition to the expected and welcome faces of her sisters and their publicist, Junie Peterson, and her boyfriend, Peter Munoz (whom the twins had dubbed Munchie-Kathleen had never known why), were the unexpected and unwelcome ones of Lloyd Winters and his pal Jordan Fisher.
Close upon that realization was a worse one: even as he bestowed upon her a cold smile that suggested nothing had been forgotten or forgiven, Jordan was lazily stroking the slender bare arm of her sister Christa, and he was doing it with the flagrancy of someone who has staked a claim.
They were already finishing up their turkey and sides, so, as soon as Kathleen had greeted everyone, she proposed that she and Kelly clear the table while the others wait for dessert in the living room. “We'll take care of cleaning up,” she said to her mother. “You relax and enjoy yourself.”
Her mother seemed to like the idea. She had cooked the meal herself, and it was one of only three meals she cooked a year. There was the Thanksgiving turkey, a ham on Christmas, and leg of lamb for Easter. The rest of the time, she and the girls ordered in or just ate some yogurt. She wasn't a natural or comfortable cook, so by the time any of those holiday meals were actually eaten, she was exhausted.
She led the others from the dining room into the living room, arm in arm with Junie. Peter-a nice guy who deserved better-was being subjected to a hard sell about Lloyd's current get-rich-quick scheme (something about access to water rights and how L.A. was really a desert, you know). Behind them all strolled Jordan Fisher and Christa. He had slung his arm around her narrow shoulders and he shot the other two girls a look of triumph as they left the room.
“In the kitchen,” Kathleen said to Kelly. “Now.”
The second the door had swung shut behind them, Kathleen hissed, “What the fuck is going on? Why is Lloyd here? And why is Jordan Fisher feeling up Christa in front of everybody?”
“Oh, God, Kathleen, it's such a mess, you can't believe it,” Kelly said. She pulled a long hank of her strawberry blond hair across her throat like she was trying to choke herself with it. “Lloyd came over one day with that Jordan guy, who kept going on and on about representing us-as if we'd leave CAA for him. And I thought he was, you know, totally sleazy-”
“He's disgusting,” Kathleen said. “I met him before. I mean, that greasy hair-”
“I know!” Kelly squealed. “I can hardly even bear to look at him. And he was like trying to flirt with us and then afterward Christa said she thought he was cute and I said the truth, which was that he totally made me want to throw up, and she got really mad and wouldn't talk to me, and it's basically been like that ever since.”
“He was all over her at the table,” Kathleen said. “Are they actually going out?”
Kelly opened her wide blue eyes even wider. “Are you kidding me? For like weeks now. That's why he and Lloyd are here. Christa invited Jordan without even asking and then she said we had to invite Lloyd, too, or he'd be hurt.”
“Since when is hurting Lloyd's feelings a problem?” Kathleen said.
“Well, we do have to be careful. Junie said people would think we were really horrible if we weren't nice to him since we're rich and he isn't. And he is our father.”
“Who ran out on us when we were babies.”
“Yeah, he's a jerk,” Kelly said. “Don't you think its weird how much you look like him?” She put her hand on her hip. She was wearing a skimpy tank top and jeans that were cut so low you could see every inch of her hip bone, but she was so thin there was nothing either curvaceous or sexy about the revealed flesh. “Believe me, I wouldn't have invited him, but Christa's all like, ‘whatever Jordan thinks.’ She's even saying she's going to let him represent her. He says we'll do better with two different agents- that it'll give us twice the clout. Like he has any clout at all.“ She rolled her eyes.
“What do Junie and Mom think?”
“Junie said no way should we switch agents, and she and Christa got in a big fight about it. And then Mom and Christa had a fight because Mom told her she should listen to Junie, and then Christa and I had a fight because I was like ‘I can't believe you don't see what a sleazeball this guy is and everybody else does’ and by the way, you weren't around to back me up-”
“I know,” Kathleen said. “Sorry about that. I’ve been kind of busy, but I should have come over more.”