Julianne couldn’t help but wonder if maybe her father hadn’t completely understood her confession.
She had practically been sleeping with the enemy—well, not sleeping with the enemy, but definitely making out with the enemy—for weeks, and he wasn’t even batting an eyelash.
As soon as Julianne opened her mouth, she knew she would regret it, but she just had to ask, “But after everything the Moores have done to you—to us—you’re not angry?” She let her voice trail off, slightly afraid of what was coming next.
Her dad paused, clearly weighing his words before sighing and crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Look. What the Moores are doing—it’s terrible. It’s greedy, it’s wasteful, and it’s unkind. There’s no doubt that these folks play dirty, and there’s no doubt that I disagree—I can’t stress enough how strongly—with what they want to do with our property. But this kid isn’t the one doing it. His parents are.”
“But he’s not even trying to stop them!” Julianne was surprised at how easily she moved to attack Remi.
“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. I don’t know. That’s not my concern. But Julianne, this Remi isn’t his parents. He’s not his family. He’s not the one doing this.”
Dad’s voice remained clear and slow, like he was doing a public service announcement. “Imagine if the situation were turned on its ear, okay? Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house …”
“But …” Julianne tried to cut in, but her father continued with his example, drowning out her feeble protests.
“It’s just an example, okay? Stick with me, here. Let’s say that you really wanted us to sell the house, but Chloe and I didn’t agree.” He looked at Julianne for an indication that she was following the same train of thought.
“Okay …” Julianne conceded hesitantly.
“If Chloe and I said to you, ‘Julianne, we know you don’t agree with what we want, but, as a member of our family, we really need your support in not selling the house,’ would you support us?” Dad asked quietly.
“Of course I would. You’re my family.” Julianne was a little bit surprised her father would ask something so obvious.
“Then why is it so impossible to think that this boy would do the same thing for his family?” Dad pressed gently.
Blood rushed to Julianne’s face. Her head was suddenly swirling with frustration and confusion, thoughts tripping over each other like clowns in a mad rush to get out of their tiny car. “Why are you defending him?”
Dad took a few moments’ pause, and Julianne’s stomach started back up with its familiar twisting. “I’m not defending him, Jules—I don’t even know him. But it’s obvious that he’s pretty important to you …”
Julianne looked down at her feet. The radiant pink polish she had borrowed from Chloe weeks ago was starting to chip.
“And you should certainly know what it feels like to want to support and stand up for your family. It’s what you’ve always done for us.” Dad reached out and tousled Julianne’s hair before getting up and heading for the kitchen, leaving her to sort out her tangled thoughts by herself.
“You know, I had a feeling something was going on all summer.” Dad stopped and turned back toward Jules, his hazel eyes twinkling.
“How?” Julianne’s head snapped around toward her father, her mouth agape.
“You were never around. Even when you weren’t working with Bill or painting, I practically never saw you. And you know, I don’t think Remi’s parents had seen much of him, as I recall from some extremely awkward small talk.” Julianne blushed. “It’s really okay, honey,” her father continued offhandedly. “Believe it or not, I was in love once too.”
Julianne leapt off the window seat and followed her father toward the kitchen.
“Between you and me, your grandfather wasn’t so wild about his ‘hippie son-in-law’ when your mom and I first got together.” Her dad opened the refrigerator and reached for a small blue Tupperware container of sprouts and some pita bread.
“What happened?” Julianne asked eagerly.
“Nothing, really. These things take time. All you can do is try to listen closely and follow what your heart is telling you. Can you pass me the hummus, sweetie?”
Julianne ducked down, plucked the container of hummus from the bottom shelf of the fridge, and tossed it out to her father. “You’re a good egg, Julianne Kahn, and I’m proud of you always.” Dad held his arms out for a hug, and Julianne curled up against his broad chest and let herself be held. She was beyond happy.
Just then, Julianne and Dad heard the quiet click of heels coming in from the hallway, and Chloe walked into the kitchen. Her hazel eyes were cast toward the floor.
Julianne looked up, the warmth and security of her father’s hug draining out of her as cold damp fear about being in the same room with Chloe trickled in. She swallowed hard and tried to brace herself for Chloe’s anger.
But it never came. Julianne had never seen her sister look so sheepish. Knowing that a convincing poker face was not one of Chloe’s many talents, Julianne could only assume she’d been listening. She wanted to laugh.
Subtlety was never one of her sister’s strengths.
Chloe was shaking ever so slightly, and her coffee-colored hair was staticky around the crown of her head—
Julianne knew that when Chloe was nervous she ran her fingers through her hair compulsively. It looked like Chloe had been nervous for quite a while.
“Um, hi.” Chloe’s voice was quiet and tentative.
“Welcome home, Dad.”
Dad smiled benevolently in the direction of his older daughter.
Chloe cleared her throat and smoothed her wrinkled scrub shirt. “Hey, Jules.”
“Hey.” Julianne really didn’t know what to
