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“No, it’s not like that. I just found out a few days ago. When it was happening, she didn’t say anything to me or her dad, either. She’s just being a teenager. It’s not as personal as you think.”
“Maybe, but it feels personal. I know she loves me but we’re not close in the way I had always hoped. She thinks my business is ridiculous. She doesn’t confide in me.”
“She told you about the boyfriend.”
“She wasn’t the one to tell me.” Erica laughed, but the sound was bitter. “It was those damned softball mothers.”
“Who?”
“The mothers of the other players on the team. Not all of them, but a few. The girls are tight, as well as the moms. They hang out and do things. They’re friends. It’s been going on for years now. They were at my Kirkland salon, having a girls’ day out. Afterward they insisted we get a drink. It was the middle of the day, but whatever. So we went for the drink and the whole story of Summer’s first boyfriend came out. It was humiliating.”
Not just that, Allison thought. Painful as well. Not only for Erica to learn about what she would see as her daughter’s rejection, but to hear it from women she obviously didn’t like.
“Why aren’t you part of the group?”
“When Summer first started playing, they asked me to join them for lunch or whatever but I’d just bought my fourth salon. I had Summer and Peter and couldn’t take off a few hours to go shopping.” She put down her glass. “I’m the only one with a career. Most of them don’t work, which is something I don’t get. They’re totally dependent on a man. But they don’t worry about that. Fools.”
She stood, weaving a little as she tried to stay upright. “Women need to learn to be independent. It’s dangerous to need a man or anyone really. People let you down. They suck you in, then they stab you in the back, telling you they don’t want you anymore. I hate that.”
She drew in a breath. “I’m going to bed.”
With that, she walked out of the family room. Allison lumbered to her feet, then carried the wineglass into the kitchen.
Obviously Erica had had more to drink than Allison had realized. The pain of the revelation about Summer had hit her hard. But it wasn’t just that, she thought. It was how Erica had sounded when she’d talked about being unable to join the other women. Oh, she’d dismissed them, but those words had come from a place of pain. She’d felt left out—with them and with her daughter.
Erica worked hard and took care of everyone around her. Family, her employees, even her ex-husband’s second wife. But who took care of her? Who had her back?
Killion seemed supportive but he was a man, and as such, he might not get the importance of female friendships. There were things women shared that guys just didn’t get. Erica was lonely. She needed a friend—a good friend—and that was something Allison knew she could be.
Erica walked into the kitchen close to eight at night, expecting to find it empty. Instead Allison sat at the table, her tablet open in front of her, a pad of paper next to it. She glanced from the screen to the paper and frantically scribbled notes.
“Hi,” Erica said, her voice coming out more weary than she expected.
It had been a long, complicated day. Her product order had been delayed, then what had arrived hadn’t been what had been ordered. A level-one stylist had dropped a bowl of hair bleach down the back of a client, effectively ruining a vintage Roberto Cavalli sweater that, based on a brief internet search, seemed irreplaceable. Why someone would wear something so precious to get her hair colored was beyond her, but the client had and now it was Erica’s expensive problem.
She still had a daughter who hadn’t bothered telling her when she’d had a boyfriend, and while she wanted nothing more than to call Killion and beg to curl up in his bed, preferably also in his arms, as he promised her everything would be all right, she couldn’t. Or rather, wouldn’t. She was stronger than that. She took care of herself and didn’t need a mere man to right her ship, or whatever the saying was.
“Hi, yourself.” Allison put down her pen and smiled at her. “How was your day?”
“Sucky.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing earth-shattering. Just a bunch of little things that piled up in what shouldn’t matter but does because there are too many of them.”
“Nibbled to death by ducks.” Allison shrugged. “My dad used to say that to me.”
“It’s a good enough description.”
Erica set her tote on the chair and unzipped her boots. She walked barefoot to the cupboard for a wineglass, then paused and thought maybe food was a better option. But the thought of pulling something together exhausted her.
“Sit,” Allison said in a surprisingly firm tone. She rose and pulled out a chair. “I’ll get you dinner.”
Erica stared at her in confusion. “You’re like a thousand weeks pregnant. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”
“I’m fine. It’s less than a yard from here to the counter. I’ll go slow. Summer and I made a chicken casserole. It’s good, but it has a lot of pasta in it, so we also made you a big salad. I knew you’d prefer that. Let me get it for you.”
Erica was too surprised to protest. She sank into the chair and watched as Allison pulled out a covered dish and a large bowl from the refrigerator. She put the covered dish into the microwave, then added dressing to the bowl and tossed the salad. After plating the salad, she grated a little cheese, then put it in front of Erica.
