Part of her weariness tonight, Riley knew, was her nagging, uneasy impression that the Woodchuck Nation was largely indifferent to the existence of Maggy Griggs.
Still, she dutifully strolled around the room, pausing to chat for a moment with the tennis coach, who stood behind a table blazing with trophies, plaques, and awards testifying to the school’s reputation as a tennis powerhouse.
The coach was a deeply tanned twentysomething whose name tag said COACH CHASE.
“Hi!” the coach said as she approached. “Do you have a tennis player in the family?”
“I do,” Riley said. “She’s played mixed doubles at our club, and she’s a pretty good singles player, too.”
“What’s her ranking?” Coach Chase asked.
Riley smiled. “She’s only twelve. I mean, she’s ranked number one with her family…”
“Oh. That’s nice. That is, nice that she’s a recreational player. But my Woodchuck girls’ team has taken the state title for the past four consecutive years. Two of my recent grads are sitting out their senior year of high school because they’ve gone pro.”
“Do you hold tryouts for the team?” Riley asked.
“Oh, sure,” the coach said. “And she’s welcome to come out. But it’s only fair to warn you that I’ve got my team pretty well set for this year. But, hey, tell her to come see Coach Chase. We can always use somebody to hit around with.”
Riley clenched and unclenched her fists to keep herself from hitting the coach’s head.
* * *
Maggy was already in bed with the lights off. Riley climbed out of her work clothes and under the covers. She felt something squirming on the pillow next to her head.
“Is that Banksy?”
“Yes,” Maggy said.
“Can’t he sleep in his crate?”
“No. He misses me when I’m gone at school all day.”
“Me, too,” Riley said. “Okay. Just this once, he can stay. But not on my pillow.” She scooted the dog gently onto the mattress between them.
“I met some of your teachers at back-to-school night,” Riley said.
“That’s cool.”
“Hey, Maggy? How come you didn’t tell me Annabelle goes to your school? And she’s in your homeroom, and sits right in front of you.”
No answer.
Riley switched on the bedside lamp, and Maggy pulled the covers over her head. “Mom. I’m trying to sleep.”
“Talk to me, Margaret. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Dad always says nobody likes a whiner.”
Yes, Riley thought, he always did say that, but he almost always used it when he was accusing a woman of voicing dissatisfaction.
“It’s not necessarily whining to let your mother know you have a difficult situation in your life,” Riley said.
“What good would it do? Anyway, it’s fine. She acts like I’m not even there.”
“Has Annabelle been mean to you again? Said anything about your dad, or the diabetes, or the shots, or anything like that? Tell me the truth, Mags.”
“It’s fine. I don’t care. I don’t care about anybody at that school.”
Riley propped herself up on one elbow. “It’s not fine. You’re sad about school, and I’m sad about my job.”
“You are? Still?”
“Yeah,” Riley said. “I know I said it would get better, but I don’t think it will. My boss doesn’t like me very much, and the feeling is mutual.”
“Are you gonna quit?”
“I’m not sure what I’m going to do,” Riley said truthfully. “But I don’t think I can keep doing a job that takes away my sense of self-respect.”
“Hey! I’ve got a great idea. If you quit your job, you can homeschool me. It would be awesome. You know, we could live on the island, and go to the beach every day.…”
“Whoa!” Riley laughed. “That’s a pretty fantasy. But one, I have to work. And two, I’d be a lousy homeschool mother. I can’t do math, and I don’t know squat about chemistry or biology. And three, even homeschooled kids don’t get to go to the beach all day. They have to sit in a classroom, and do homework, and, you know, actually take tests and learn. And, anyway, I thought you said all the kids on the island are stupid jerks.”
“I meant mostly Annabelle,” Maggy said. “Can I ask you something and you won’t get mad?”
“You can ask, but I can’t promise not to get mad,” Riley said. “I warn you, I’ve had a pretty crappy day.”
“Do you ever miss Dad?”
Riley had to think about that. Did she miss Wendell? Had her anger dissipated enough to allow her to be honest about her feelings for him?
“That’s still complicated for me, Maggy,” she admitted. “I know you miss him terribly. I guess I miss some things. I miss the pancakes he’d make sometimes on Sunday nights. And I miss seeing you with him, and knowing how proud he was of you. I miss the three of us, piled in bed, watching movies, and drinking Diet Coke, and having burp contests.”
“Yeah, the burp contests were awesome,” Maggy said. “Dad could really belch, couldn’t he?”
“If they had Olympic burping, he’d have been a gold medal contender,” Riley agreed. She rubbed her daughter’s back. “Go to sleep now, baby. We’ll figure it out somehow. Your PopPop used to say everything always looks better in the morning.”
* * *
But on Friday, things did not look rosy. The day started with a call from her real estate broker. She was sitting in her cubicle at the station, going over her notes for that day’s show, whose guests included a Latin dance instructor, an author who’d self-published a book about colon cleansing, and the owner of a vinyl siding company.
“Riley,” her broker said. “I’ve been watching your new show. And I love your wardrobe. So eclectic and youthful!”
Riley looked down at that day’s outfit, a purple silk dress with cascading tiers of gathered fabric that made her look like a human dust ruffle. “Thanks, Brenda. I’ve been meaning to call. You know, Monday is the closing. I’ve got my movers lined up, but I was wondering when I can do a walk-through of the house. Have you talked to the sellers lately?”
“We’ve had a little hitch, Riley. The thing is, the sellers have changed their minds. His new job fell through, and it turns out they hate the climate in South Florida. So they’d really like to give you your money back and void the contract.”
“No! They can’t do that, Brenda. We have a contract. Just tell them no.”
“Hear me out, okay? They’re proposing to return your down payment, plus an extra five thousand for inconveniencing you. How does that sound?”
“It sounds terrible. Maggy and I have been camped out in a hotel for a week, and we’re sick of it. I’ve started my job, and I don’t have any time to go house hunting. Just tell them no, Brenda.”
“I tried. I really did, but they just won’t budge. I’ve never had this happen before.”
“But it’s my house now. I signed a good-faith contract way back in May. You go back to them and tell them I’ll sue if they don’t get out of that house by Monday.”