“And who he thought he could push around,” Amber said.
“Right. But the academy’s behavior support program is super important, and the kids are great. If I keep working hard, I hope I can convince O’Neil—and the board—to keep funding it.”
“I think you should give the hottie another chance. Flirt with him,” Amber said.
“No. No way. Officer Greene is going to try to find me someone else.” Erica didn’t want to listen to her sister telling her she needed to date, have fun, meet men. It wasn’t on her agenda and she didn’t want to discuss the reasons why with her big sister. “Hannah, how was your math test?”
They talked about school for a little while, all of them eating just a little pizza. Hannah constantly worried about gaining weight, while Amber, who actually needed to gain, found that a lot of food didn’t taste quite right. Erica had always been someone whose appetite was affected by her emotions, and those were running a little high tonight.
After a few minutes, Hannah picked up her mother’s plate and her own and carried them into the kitchen. There was a slight slump to the seventeen-year-old’s shoulders.
Erica looked quickly over at Amber to see if she’d noticed.
She had. She was looking after her daughter, biting her lip.
The sound of dishes clanking told them Hannah was loading the dishwasher. Erica raised an eyebrow at Amber. “She’s a lot more responsible about chores than we ever were,” she said.
“She hasn’t had much choice.” Amber sounded discouraged, and who could blame her? Her first bout with breast cancer, when Hannah was ten, had been difficult, but Erica and a bunch of friends had all rallied around, helped with food and with Hannah, and thrown a party when Amber had been declared free of disease.
Now that it had recurred and spread, now that Hannah was old enough to help her mom—and also, to understand the implications of a cancer recurrence—things were different. More challenging. The outcome less likely to be positive.
A glance at Amber suggested her thoughts were traveling down the same road. Time for another change of subject. “We should start on those curtains and valances we were talking about making.”
“Eh, I don’t know.”
“If you’re too tired—”
“I’m fine! Every time I don’t want to do something it’s not because...” She trailed off as Hannah came into the room. “It’s not because I’m sick. And sure, I’ll help with the curtains, though why we’re making them for a rental I don’t quite get.”
Because it’s a project, something to keep us busy. “A long-term rental,” Erica said.
“Let’s hope so.” She glanced up at Hannah and added quickly, “I just mean we might not be able to afford this place through the high season.”
“It’s okay, Mom.” Hannah’s smile looked forced.
“Do you want to help?” Erica asked her niece. “You’re so good at crafty stuff.”
“Um, no, thanks. I have homework.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it, then hurried out of the room.
Wanting to wipe the worried look off Amber’s face, Erica got the bolt of filmy fabric, embroidered with tiny blue and green seashells, and started to unroll it across the table. “I’ll measure. You cut,” she said.
“Sure.” Amber pushed herself out of her chair and walked slowly to the kitchen. “Where’d you put the scissors?” she called back.
Erica gripped the back of a chair to prevent herself from rushing in to help her sister, making her sit down, doing it all herself. “Drawer by the stove, I think. Do you see a tape measure in there?”
“Yep.” Amber came back into the room brandishing scissors, handed them and a tape measure to Erica and then eased herself down into a chair. “So what’s really going on with that cop you turned in?” she asked, sounding a little out of breath.
Erica measured the width of the dining room window and jotted it down. “I just really, really want the academy program to continue, help more kids.”
“Because you can’t have any,” Amber said flatly.
“It’s not just that, but...yeah.” Erica sighed. She didn’t like to talk about her own issues when Amber’s were so pressing. “I guess that’s part of why.”
“That’s a lot of weight to put on a bunch of troubled kids, making them stand in for all your old dreams,” Amber said.
“They’ve lost so much in their lives. I really want to make a difference to them.”
“You’ve lost so much. And was this guy possibly too good-looking?”
“Stop it.” She didn’t want to discuss her decision to avoid any kind of real relationship with her sister, who’d just argue with her. It was an old argument, predating the cancer and her recent resolution. Amber had loved boys as a teenager and had run pretty wild. She’d tried to get Erica to take advantage of the fact that their mother was usually too busy working to supervise them closely. But Erica had been the responsible one, trying to rein Amber in, rarely agreeing to even a simple date.
Now that she knew what she was facing, she kind of wished she’d taken Amber’s route.
From upstairs, a blare of loud music sounded. Erica wrinkled her nose. “Ugh,” she said.
“Yeah. The ‘I hate women’ music.”
“Well, to be fair,” Erica said, “it’s what all the kids listen to.”
“Promise me you’ll make her know not to think of herself that way, if...” Amber’s voice tangled on the last word.
Erica’s throat tightened. “Of course, but you’ll be here to do that.”
“Yeah.” Amber cleared her throat. “Listen, I think I actually am a little too tired to help with this tonight. Rain check?” She was scooting back her chair as she spoke, hunched over, like a hollowed-out shell.
Erica wanted to hug her and reassure her that everything would be all right. But she didn’t know that. And moreover, she thought as she watched Amber stare up the steps on the way to her first-floor bedroom, she couldn’t even really imagine what her sister was feeling.
* * *
THE POUNDING RHYTHMS of Metallica and the throb of his muscles as he scrubbed floors and carried boxes distracted Trey from thinking about the depressing thing he was doing: cleaning out the house he’d shared with his wife.
He’d pay for it tomorrow. He wasn’t supposed to lift anything over ten pounds, but come on. How could he clean out what remained of his married life without lifting a few boxes? And when his friend Denny from the force had volunteered to help, well, he couldn’t sit around and let the guy work alone, could he?