Not My Daughter

with my mother. I'm wondering what she would say if you weren't standing guard.'

Jack turned to Ellen, who murmured, 'I'll be in the kitchen,' and left.

Pleased, he faced Susan again. 'There's your answer, I believe.' Before she could say anything more, he followed his mother.

Susan refused to leave, if for no other reason than to annoy Jack. She introduced herself to people who might have forgotten her, introduced Lily to some who wanted to forget them both. And when the issue of money came up again, this time from Jack's wife, Lauren, Susan was cool. 'It isn't about money.'

'Jack said you'd claim that,' Lauren argued, her nasal voice a perpetual whine, 'but if that isn't it, why are you back? You've never come before.'

'I never felt welcome.' Nor did she now. When she walked into the kitchen to replenish a plate of cookies, talk stopped. Old family friends watched her every move, not a one asking about Zaganack or Susan's work.

'Y'know,' Lauren confided, 'I probably shouldn't say this, but there really isn't much money. Well, there may be a small bequest, but most of what's left is going to Ellen.' She seemed to wake up. 'That's why you're here? To get in good with Ellen?'

Susan felt no fondness for Lauren Tate. For all the gifts she had sent that had gone unacknowledged, she said, 'The only ones obsessed with money are you and Jack. It makes me wonder whether you have that bequest already spent and are terrified you'll lose some of it to me.'

'Why! No!'

Susan took her arm. 'Please, Lauren, listen to me. I don't want money from anyone here. If someone offered it, I'd donate it to the church.'

Lauren just pulled her arm free and walked off in a huff.

And so it went, not a happy day. But despite Lily's pleading looks, Susan stayed. She had let herself be driven away once. When she left this time, it would be her choice.

She chose to leave at eight, after dinner and dessert were done, the coffee urn was washed and set up for the next day, and Jack and his family were gone. Only a few of Ellen's friends remained when Susan finally ushered Lily to the car. The girl was silent until they pulled away from the house, when all she had swallowed came back up.

'Okay, Mom. I understand that my cousins have never met me before, but for a five- year-old not to warm to me means that there's been some serious brainwashing. Every time I tried to talk with them, they ran away. I did not try to talk with my uncle Jackson, nor did he try to talk to me, probably because he was too busy talking for your mother. He acts like she doesn't have a brain. Why does she put up with it?'

Susan could only rationalize. 'It's how she's always been. My father made all the decisions.'

'That's sad.'

'It works for some women.'

'I couldn't live like that.' Lily's profile was tense against the diner lights as they passed back through the center of town.

'Nor could I,' Susan said, 'but that doesn't mean it's wrong.'

'But she's your mother. Doesn't she realize what it took for you to come here? Doesn't she have any feelings?'

'She's tired right now, probably numb.'

Lily persisted. 'But aren't you hurt?'

Looking back on the day, Susan tried to decide how she felt. From the moment she decided to return, she had been dreading the confrontation, but it could have been worse. Silence was better than name-calling. 'Hurt? After all these years, I'm immune. But I did hope that there'd be something warmer. So I'm disappointed.'

'Disappointed that your mother wouldn't talk to you? I'd be furious.'

'My mother was never a big talker.'

'But you're her daughter, whom she hasn't seen in years!'

'She just lost her husband.'

'Fine,' Lily granted, 'but that is not how a good mother behaves-and see, that's what I mean, Mom. I may be only seventeen, but I know this. A good mother is sensitive to what her child is feeling.'

Susan had a striking thought. In a shame-filled voice, she said, 'By that standard, I've failed.'

'Are you kidding? You taught me this. You totally understood what I was feeling when the Zaganotes voted me out, and when Robbie's parents came over? You knew then, too. We were absolutely on the same page.'

'Not about the baby.'

Lily took a quick breath but said nothing.

Susan tried to explain. 'It's hard sometimes. I do understand what you're feeling, but my own feelings get in the way.'

They were silent. On the outskirts of town, now, the car sliced through the dark with only the headlights to mark the road.

'At least you're telling me that,' Lily finally said. Her voice lowered. 'Do you still not want the baby?'

'I want the baby,' Susan said.

'You don't sound convinced.'

'I'm working on that.'

Back at the hotel, Susan's BlackBerry was dinging with e-mail sent during the day but only just arriving. There must have been a connectivity problem at her parents' house-how ironic was that?

She read condolence notes from Kate and Sunny, and a brief e-mail from Pam saying she had been in touch with the school board. More urgently, there were notes from Evan Brewer. Three disciplinary problems had arisen, one involving a boy accused of cheating. Susan's heart sank when she read that one. Michael Murray had recurring problems; she'd been working closely with the family. Evan complained that Susan's assistant wouldn't give him access to the boy's full file.

Susan kept certain reports under lock and key-namely, those that contained sensitive information from parent conferences-and the Murray file was one. Husband and wife were struggling to hold their marriage together. The home situation was occasionally violent.

As reluctant as Susan was to give Evan access to that file, she felt he had to see the full picture. So she instructed Rebecca to show him what she had, but asked Evan not to act on the case. She would be at school Thursday morning. It could wait.

Well after sending the e-mail, though, she was bothered. She wasn't convinced Evan truly needed the file. She was still the principal; her word should have been enough. And yes, she was being hypersensitive, but it had been that kind of day.

Trying to relax, Susan began to knit. It helped clear her mind of Zaganack, but not of Lily. The girl had fallen asleep after changing into pajamas, at which time Susan had noted a definite bulge. The image stuck with her.

In time, though, another image took its place. Her father's face. In this instance, the clock was not so much ticking as turned back. Good memories were returning-of being five and going with her father to Oklahoma City, of riding beside him in an open convertible for the Fourth of July parade when she was nine, of being hugged at eleven when she had tripped over Jack's outstretched leg and broken her arm.

Revisiting these memories, she found John's death all the more tragic. It was as if she was losing her father all over again.

The funeral was set for noon so that townsfolk who worked could attend during their lunch hour. In reality, though, much of the town was closed for the day, which meant that there were more people than ever at the house when Susan and Lily arrived. Some were actually friendly. Most left the living room, though, when the hearse pulled up outside to take John to the cemetery.

Susan waited, keeping her distance, while her mother stood by the coffin for a final goodbye before it was closed. Pallbearers carried it to the hearse. Ellen and the Jackson Tates followed in a black limousine.

Lost in the long line of cars, by the time Susan and Lily reached the cemetery, the crowds were twenty deep. Buttoning her coat to the throat and triple-wrapping her scarf, Susan told herself that standing in back was for the best. But the mass of humanity did nothing to cut the wind, which blew brutally cold across the bare land, and she couldn't shake the feeling that the crowd was intentionally keeping her away.