“Yeah, she is,” Molly agreed.
“Being smart doesn’t mean you’ll never have a problem. Everybody has problems. But I think you can stop worrying about your mom. She’s so strong and smart, that I’m positive she’ll find a way to work it out.”
“I sort of know that.” Molly sighed. “I just don’t like it when she doesn’t tell me everything.”
Teddy, clearly tired of being cut out, interrupted to say, “If you get to talk to my dad, then I get to talk to your mom.”
“Yeah. So?”
“And if you get to come over here, then I should get to go over to your house sometimes.”
“Sure,” Molly said.
“And I worry about my dad, too. All the time.”
“Yeah? What about?”
Teddy had to think. “Just things. Like when my mom isn’t nice to him. Things like that.”
The kids had a competitive argument over who was the best kid/who worried most/who took best care of their mom or dad. Mike felt like a humorous fly on the wall; they battled back and forth as if he weren’t even there. The afternoon filled up. He took the kids for ice cream, then had to find a potty. A trip to Target thankfully solved Molly’s shopping need, where he bought exactly the lights she told him to-that required another potty break. By three o’clock in the afternoon, he brought out cards on the deck and played fish forever. At least twenty minutes.
About then he started glancing at his watch. It might be too soon to start watching for Amanda, but he figured whatever had gone right-or wrong-about the custody hearing had already happened. She was either hugely relieved…or hugely upset.
His mother called. She wanted them over for dinner on Sunday. The phone rang again. It was a headhunter who specialized in attorney positions and wanted Mike as a client. The kids settled on the rug with the dog in front of a Disney flick.
Mike told himself to get the mail, get some bills paid, use the quiet time to tackle some chores.
But it was four-thirty by then, and Amanda still wasn’t home.
He knew how courts worked. How custody hearings went. Amanda had no way of knowing how long she’d be gone, and she’d have called him if she expected to be crazy late, or if anything had happened. She’d never have left her daughter hanging.
So there was no reason for him to worry.
And he wasn’t worried exactly.
He was just glued to the window.
At ten to five, her white SUV zoomed into the driveway. The sound of the car sent Slugger baying and Cat snarling at the dog door to confront the arrival. Molly and Teddy didn’t budge-they were near the end of the movie- but when Mike said, “Your mom’s just pulling in, Mol,” the little one bounced to her feet.
Slugger and Cat beat everyone else out the door to greet her, then came kids, with Mike bringing up the rear. By the time he got a look, she was bending down to give Molly a giant hug and kiss, so he couldn’t see her face.
Teddy got in there, to start explaining that he thought he should have time at her house, too, and Amanda was agreeing with him. “I was thinking of something we could do that would be fun for you. You like getting your hands dirty, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do,” Teddy confirmed.
“In fact, Teddy, I was thinking…maybe you could come over when we have a baking afternoon. Lots of flour all over the place. Lots of messes. Lots of squishing butter between your fingers. We could make pies or cookies or something. That sound okay to you?”
“That sounds like something I’ve wanted to do my whole life. And nobody ever let me before.”
After Teddy’s turn, his hound had to be petted, and Molly was still talking to her mom nonstop…but finally, finally, she lifted her head. “Hey, neighbor.
Did you survive?”
“We had a blast.”
“Uh-huh. What do I owe you? A day in a padded cell? Brownies? Cookies for the rest of your life? Slave labor cleaning floors? Pizza?”
She made the kids laugh…he did, too. “Let me think on it.”
“Yeah, you probably need a five-hour nap, huh?”
He chuckled again at her teasing, since she clearly wanted him to. “Everything go okay for you?”
“Sure did,” she said heartily. “Tell you about it when I get a chance. In the meantime…I’d better get Molly in and my brood fed and watered. Thanks, Mike. I really, really appreciate it.”
“Hey, no sweat. Anytime,” he said, and meant it. She looked at him, her expressions, her words, as if he were seriously a cherished friend, sincerity radiating from her tone and smile.
They were doing the friend thing really well, he thought.
And wished he could kick a mountain in the shins.
Something had whipped the hell out of her in that custody hearing. He didn’t know who won what-or who lost what-but Amanda’s eyes had the fierce brightness of a lioness. She was hurting. Bad.
Mike felt a sudden, sharp ripping sensation. Her hurting wasn’t supposed to be his business.
She didn’t want a hero. She wanted a friend. She didn’t want someone to beat up her enemies, to protect her, to watch over her.
She wanted a friend. She didn’t want him in the parts of her life that involved pain or fear or any of that other rotten life crap. She just wanted a friend.
Those were her rules.
Well, they’d played it her way. Now they were going to play it his way.
Chapter Eleven
Well, Amanda thought, she’d handled that reasonably well. Or as well as she possibly could have. Mike hadn’t guessed she was upset. Neither of the kids sensed anything was wrong…although Molly was still sneaking questions at bedtime.
“I think you’re going to be a prosecuting attorney when you grow up,” Amanda said as she snuggled Molly in fresh sheets and her favorite doll of the week.
“I don’t know what a prosecutor attorney is.”
“It means someone who’s really good at asking questions. And at finding ways to get the answers they want.” She bent over to kiss Molly good-night. “Did you have a good time next door?”
“I told you that already. I had a great time. I didn’t scream about the worms. I just ignored Teddy when he was being awful that way. And I helped Mr. Mike in a whole lot of ways.”
“You did, huh?”
“He thinks I’m smart.”
“Everybody thinks you’re smart. Because you are.”
“I know. But he
“Well, that’s really good.” The fairy night-light stayed on, but Amanda switched off the pink lamp with the fringe shade
“Mommy. Don’t go. I need some mommy time.”
“We can have all the mommy time you want tomorrow. But it’s late tonight.”
“Just a couple more minutes!”
Amanda wasn’t positive she could hold it together for a “couple more minutes,” but she sank back on the bed and said, “Okay, whiffer-sniffer.”
Molly giggled. “Thank you very much, Bonklewonkle.” It was an old game, always worth some smiles, but then Molly got more serious. “I don’t know what a meeting is. But I don’t like it, when I don’t know where you are.”
“A meeting is just a word to describe when people are getting together for some reason. And you may not
