“I guess so.”
“You’re mad?”
“More like . . . confused. She wants to go to Deno’s for dinner.”
Emma looked around the kitchen. “We are having manicotti.” She cocked her head and looked at the two jars of marinara sauce waiting to be opened. “You are supposed to make the sauce from tomatoes.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Is there anything you want to eat beside pasta?” Jamie asked. She’d learned diverting Emma’s attention was the best way to get through to her.
“I like doughnuts.”
“Did Mom make you pasta?”
She nodded. “Not as much as you do.”
“So, you like other things, too. What kinds of things?”
“Nachos.”
“Nachos. That’s something different. Maybe we can make nachos later this week.”
“They’re just an appetizer. . . .” She looked toward the kitchen window to the backyard. “Mom only made spaghetti, but he said I should branch out. He got me rigatoni and he had manicotti.”
Jamie followed her gaze toward the back window. “Who are we talking about?”
“Mom told me to learn to make my own. I think I can make my own now.”
Jamie said, “Do you want to help stuff the manicotti?”
“Yes.”
“Who was it that told you to branch out?” she asked as she finished mixing the manicotti stuffing and put the pasta cylinders in front of Emma with a small spoon.
Emma dipped the spoon in the cheese mixture and began stuffing the pasta shells. She broke almost every one, but Jamie tucked them back together as best she could.
“I’m not good at this,” said Emma.
“Did you hear what I asked you? Who was it told you to branch out?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I like him anymore.”
“Mom.”
Jamie looked over. Harley had dressed in her nicest jeans, combed her hair, and . . . maybe added a bit of mascara and lipstick? Jamie straightened. “Who’s going to be at Deno’s?” she asked.
Harley wanted to deny it. Jamie could see her expression darken. But the jig was up and she seemed to realize she couldn’t lie to her mother and still hope to get what she wanted, namely going to Deno’s. “Just some kids from school.”
“Marissa?”
“I don’t know . . . I don’t think so.”
“Greer?”
“Just some kids from school. Do we have to make this an inquisition?”
Emma squinted at her. “You have a boyfriend,” she said sagely.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Harley was adamant, but color was creeping up her neck.
“I need to know who you’re meeting,” Jamie said. “I’ll drive you if you want to go, but you’re not walking alone.”
“I can go?” She brightened.
“Tell me who you’re meeting.”
“Okay, Greer. And some other friends. I called Marissa, but she’s like on lockdown. And she’s agoraphobic now, too.”
“Well, I don’t know about that.”
“She doesn’t want to go to tae kwon do anymore. She doesn’t want to go anywhere.”
“She’s been through a trauma.”
“Maybe you could talk to her mom. . . .”
Jamie half-laughed. Harley knew better than that.
“Talk to Mr. Haynes. Tell him to tell Marissa’s mom to let her come to Deno’s,” Harley urged.
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” Jamie slid the last broken manicotti shell smeared with the ricotta mix away from Emma, who wiggled her messy fingers.
“Why not?” Harley demanded.
“Because we’ve all got a lot on our plates, Harley. And Greer and Troy Stillwell and Tyler Stapleton, and your friend Katie Timbolt . . . they’re all in trouble in different ways. Who exactly is going to be there?”
“I said I don’t know,” she snapped.
“You really want me to get between them and Marissa’s mom? How do you think that’s going to go over?”
“Okay, fine. Can I just go?”
“I’ll walk with you,” Emma said.
“No, Emma,” Jamie intervened. “Then you’d be walking back alone, and that’s not going to happen.”
“We could all go,” Emma said.
Jamie wanted to argue that she was in the middle of getting dinner ready, but apart from preheating the oven, there was nothing actually baking yet.
“Fine. We’ll all walk down together and you can text me when you want to come back. And I need to know how many kids are descending on Deno’s.”
Harley said quickly, “Okay. I’ll meet you outside,” and she practically ran out the front door.
“Do you think they’ll have sex?” Emma asked as she pulled her jacket from the front closet.
“Please, don’t put that image in my head, Emma.” Jamie grabbed her own hooded anorak.
“I know. It’s pretty personal.”
The three of them walked to Deno’s together. As they neared the restaurant, it was Harley whose footsteps faltered. She looked through the windows, and so did Jamie. Greer Douglas was seated in a booth, but he was alone. No other kids so far.
“Is this a date?” Jamie asked.
“Hell no.” Harley was adamant.
“It looks like a date,” said Jamie.
“It’s not. Others are coming.” Harley was positive.
“I will chaperone,” said Emma.
“I don’t need a chaperone. It’s not a date. I’m fine. I won’t leave the pizzeria until you come to get me. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Emma, and turned to head back.
“Wait. Whoa.” To Harley, she directed, “Go inside and wave to me and then we’ll go back. You’re only here for an hour,” said Jamie.
Harley rolled her eyes and nodded. She headed toward the door, yanking it open. Jamie and Emma stood outside, watching through the side windows as Harley walked down the row of booths to where Greer was seated. He grinned at her as she slid into the seat opposite him.
“That’s a date,” Jamie said.
“Sure is,” Emma agreed.
“I don’t know how to feel about it.”
“Mom knew.”
Jamie wasn’t sure what that meant, but it was part of Emma’s mantra. “We’ll come back in an hour,” she told Emma, and they walked back together.
* * *
Cooper called Laura as soon as he was finished with Dug. “I want to talk to Marissa,” he told his ex when she answered the phone.
“Good. Maybe you can make her understand. She wants to meet that Harley girl at a pizza parlor with other kids, and I think some of the ones with really bad behavior will be
