For the Love of Summer

Chapter 6

Erica chopped the zucchini into even cubes. She’d already done the carrots, onion and celery. Once she’d finished with the red peppers and bok choy, she would steam the carrots for a few minutes so they were nearly cooked and ready to be tossed into the Thai-inspired stir-fry. Summer’s rice was in a bowl, ready to be popped into the microwave, and the peanut sauce was made.

Erica eyed the fluffy white rice she batch-cooked for her daughter. As a rule, Erica avoided carbs. Not only did she feel better when she ate less of them, it was easier to keep her weight in check. When she indulged it was on things she really loved like pasta or great bread—neither of which she was serving tonight.

Dinner was ready to go, but one key element was missing. Summer.

Erica glanced at the kitchen clock. They ate at six the nights they were together and her daughter was always on time. But at quarter ’til, there was no sign of the teen. Their only communication had been a text around three saying Summer was going to stop off to see Allison and Jackson before coming home.

“She better not have stayed for dinner without telling me,” she grumbled aloud. They had a schedule. Erica made sure she was home for dinner at least one school night and every Sunday. Mara had her granddaughter over one or two nights a week. In addition to spending every other weekend with her father, Summer ate dinner there at least once a week. There were also the evenings she spent with friends, although so far, not with a boyfriend.

Erica wasn’t sure why her daughter didn’t have someone special in her life. She was well-liked, pretty and while smart enough to be interesting, not intimidatingly smart. Boys her age were often wary of someone too smart. Or too goal oriented, she thought, remembering how when she’d been in high school, she’d been busy working on a business plan to buy out her mom and launch her empire. The guys in her class hadn’t found her drive the least bit appealing.

She heard the mudroom door open, followed by rapid footsteps. Summer burst into the kitchen, her ratty oversize plaid shirt hanging off one shoulder, her backpack slipping to the floor.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching the time.”

The teen shrugged out of the shirt jacket and let it fall on top of her backpack. She quickly unlaced her very ugly construction-style boots before stepping out of them and hurrying over to Erica. She wrapped her arms around her and hung on.

“I’ll wash my hands, then set the table.”

Erica stroked her back. “We’re having stir-fry. We’re not on a tight schedule. Are you all right?”

Summer stepped back and shook her head. “No. Oh, Mom, it’s so awful. Allison is totally freaked about what’s happening with Dad. She tried to make me feel better by telling me she has a credit card she can use and stuff, but it didn’t work. She knows how many diapers she has!”

Erica held in a sigh. Obviously the issue with Peter wasn’t going away anytime soon, so she would have to be patient. Unfortunately patience when it came to her ex-husband was in short supply.

“Knowing how many diapers you have isn’t earth-shattering,” she said calmly. “When you have a baby or toddler, you need that kind of information. The last thing you want is to run out.”

She put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I know this is really hard for you. Everything about the situation is upsetting and confusing. Allison is dealing with a lot right now, and it doesn’t seem fair. She has little Jackson and is pregnant.”

“I know. It’s horrible.” Summer’s eyes filled with tears. “She doesn’t have anyone, Mom.”

“She has friends and coworkers, and she has Peter.” She deliberately softened her tone. “Sweetie, you’re so caring and softhearted, plus we’re talking about your dad, so of course you’re processing emotion. Nothing about what’s happening makes sense to any of us. But give it time. In the next couple of weeks, we’ll find out what’s really going on and then we can deal.”

Summer nodded slowly, then wiped her eyes. “I’m so scared.”

“I know. But we’ll get through this. Can you let it go long enough to enjoy dinner?”

She nodded again. “I’ll try.”

“Good. I’ll steam the carrots, then start the stir-fry.”

“I’ll set the table.”

Summer disappeared down the hall to the half bath. Erica heard the sound of running water, as her daughter washed her hands. She dumped the carrots into the steamer. The water was already boiling, so the cooking time would be short. She gave the sauce a quick stir.

By the time the carrots were ready, Summer had set the table and poured herself a large glass of milk. She set ice water in front of her mom’s place mat.

Erica heated her wok and quickly seared the chicken pieces. Once they were done, she dumped them into a clean bowl, then began adding vegetables. She kept everything moving, adding the next group as the first ones began cooking through. The bok choy went in last, followed by the cooked chicken. A minute later, she stirred in the sauce. She heard the microwave beep as Summer finished heating her rice.

Erica transferred the stir-fry from the wok to a serving bowl and topped it with cilantro. Peanuts were already on the table.

“How was school?” Erica asked when they were seated across from each other at the table by the window. Most meals were taken in the kitchen. The dining room was for special occasions, entertaining or holidays.

“Good.” She scooped rice onto her plate, then wrinkled her nose. “We have to read The Great Gatsby. Ugh. I loved The Color Purple. That was so interesting, but this book is about a bunch of rich people. Why should we care?”

Erica tried to recall what the book was about. Or the movie—there’d been a remake several years ago. At least she thought there had been. Plus that old one her mother had made her watch a couple of times.

“Gatsby doesn’t really love Daisy,” she said, remembering a discussion in high school. “He wants to possess her, or what he thinks is her, but he never truly knows her. His feelings for her aren’t about love, they’re about acquisition.”

Summer stared at her wide-eyed. “Go, Mom!”

Erica laughed. “I know it sounds impressive, but honestly that’s all I can remember. I didn’t love it, either.”

“Shouldn’t literature be interesting? And relevant?”

“The basic themes of great literature are relevant. But you’re right—the setting, the way people act, that’s all out of step with our lives. The Great Gatsby was written a long time ago. Part of understanding it is to understand the times the author was living in. Everything changes with perspective.”

“Maybe.”

“How does everyone feel about the next game?” The team was playing the Bellevue High School Wolverines, typically a tough opponent.

“We’re going to kick Wolverine butt. Player for player, we’re better.” Summer paused. “But they do have a better outfield.”

As her daughter spoke, Erica wondered (for the eight-thousandth time) why Summer wouldn’t put a little effort into her appearance. Her hair was thick and shiny, but she wore it back in a ponytail or braid all the time. She had no interest in skin care or makeup. Her clothes were equally utilitarian. Summer had never wanted to experiment with different looks or go shopping. She never wore dresses or skirts unless it was a special event and Erica insisted.

Several of her friends dressed well, wore makeup and even asked Erica for tips. But not her own daughter. When pressed, Summer would roll her eyes and say she couldn’t be bothered with something so unimportant. Erica tried not to take the remarks personally, but it was difficult. Helping women look more beautiful was the entire point of her business.

Summer helped herself to seconds. “I don’t know what to do for Allison.”

Erica ignored the flash of impatience and resisted the urge to point out they’d agreed not to discuss the topic at dinner.

“You’re being supportive. That’s your role in all this. You don’t have to do anything. I’m sure your dad’s giving her advice.”

“I guess. She’s going to go see him. I wonder what that will be like. I don’t know anything about prison or jail or stuff. Do you think Dad’s scared?”

“I doubt he’s happy where he is, but I don’t think he’s in any physical danger.”

“Do you think he did the things he’s charged with? Dad’s not a bad person. He’s so great with Jackson and I know he loves me. Allison is his world. They fit together, you know?”

Before things had gone south in her marriage, Erica would have said Peter loved her very much, but she wouldn’t have ever thought of herself as “his world.” They simply didn’t have that kind of relationship. No one should be anyone else’s world. That was too much pressure and it sounded incredibly codependent.

“They must miss each other,” she said, going for the neutral response.

“They do. Remember after the divorce, when Dad was so down? I worried about him. He wasn’t himself, but then he met her and it was like a light went on inside. She makes him happy.”

Erica told herself that her daughter wasn’t being cruel on purpose, that the teen’s insistence at seeing things from her father’s point of view was more about her being the stronger parent, more successful. Summer saw her as capable, determined and rarely bothered by the emotions that laid the rest of humanity bare. There was no thought that Peter had initiated the divorce, and she’d never told Summer that she’d been blindsided.

The unfairness of it all made her push away the rest of her meal. Part of her wanted to point out that she’d suffered, too. That the divorce had been hard emotionally, although unlike Peter, Erica hadn’t shared many of her feelings with her daughter. She’d felt Summer was going through enough on her own without having her mother dump her disappointment on her.

“He was working so hard to grow his business,” Summer continued. “Practically starting from scratch.”

Because once Peter had said he was leaving, she’d pulled her account from his business. Twisted had been his major client, so she knew the move had hurt him financially, but given what was happening at the time, staying had been out of the question. Finding out he’d stolen a hundred thousand dollars from her over the years had only solidified her decision. Thank God she’d had the brains to insist on a prenup before they married. She’d started Twisted before they’d ever met and was the sole owner of the business. Despite being in love, she hadn’t been willing to risk her salons.

“Allison is so scared,” Summer said. “Mom, we need to do something to help her.”

“We talked about this. Let’s wait until we know more.”

“But she’s broke and pregnant. There’s no internet anymore—she canceled that. What about when Bethany’s born? How is she going to do that, on her own? What about Jackson?”

All good questions, Erica thought. “She’ll figure it out. She’s not a twenty-year-old with no life experience. She’s what? Thirty-four, thirty-five? She has resources.”

“Not financial ones. Mom, why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am. I’m sorry Allison and your father are dealing with this, but it will get straightened out. By now your dad has a lawyer and—”

Summer’s mouth twisted. “He doesn’t. She told me. I think it’s because there’s no money. How is he supposed to pay?”

“We talked about this before. The lawyer will be paid when the money’s released. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” Summer pushed back from the table and stood. “It’s not fine. Stop saying that. What about the move?”

“What move?”

“The landlord is selling their house. They were going to pick a place this weekend, but now Dad’s in jail and there’s no money. How is Allison supposed to rent another house or even an apartment? Mom, she’s pregnant!”

Erica did her best not to react. Having to move in the middle of all this did make the situation worse. She felt a small twinge of pity for the other woman. In a matter of days her entire life had gone to crap.

“She has friends or maybe family who can help.” At least she assumed Allison did. Honestly, Erica didn’t know that much about the woman. There was no reason to—she wasn’t one of those sick people who stayed friends with an ex.

“I’m her family,” Summer shouted. “I’m her family. She’s my stepmom and Jackson is my brother. You’ve always said it was our responsibility to take care of those we love. I love them and we have to help!”

The flinch was involuntary. Erica knew her daughter cared about Allison, but the knowledge was nowhere near the same as a shouted declaration. Her first instinct was to say the other woman was nothing to her, but she knew that would be problematic. No matter how Summer’s words stung, she had to react in an understanding and thoughtful manner. The important person here was her daughter.

“Screaming at me isn’t communication,” she said quietly. “I know you’re concerned. Anyone would be. Allison and your father are dealing with a difficult situation.”

She motioned to the chair. Summer hesitated before sitting down.

“But they are dealing,” Erica continued. “You’re sixteen years old. Mature for your age, but still not an adult. There are things they’re not going to tell you. So while I respect your feelings and understand why you feel freaked out, you need to take a step back and see that you don’t know everything happening.”

“What if what I don’t know makes it worse?”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Mo-om! That doesn’t help.”

“You’re not helping, either. You’re assuming disaster and ruin are the only options and you’re also assuming Allison doesn’t have anyone in her life but you. This isn’t your problem to fix. It’s theirs.”

“But they’re my family!”

“Yes, they are and it’s great that you’re being so supportive. I’m not saying that has to change. Instead I’m pointing out that it’s only been a couple of days. Let’s give everyone a little time to figure out what’s really happening before you start yelling at me.”

Summer slumped in her seat. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“I know. You’re worried. But again, they’re handling the situation. Give them space to do that.” She thought about mentioning maybe it would be better if Summer didn’t run over to her father’s house every fifteen minutes, but decided not to go there.

Her daughter looked at her. “Will you talk to her?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you talk to her? Come on, Mom, you’re the most together person I know. You’re successful, you have employees, there’s always money. You know things. You could give Allison advice.”

“Not about Peter being in jail.”

“No, but about life and stuff. I know she’d want to talk to you.”

Erica doubted that. And on a different, yet oddly related topic, why hadn’t she had wine with dinner?

“Your stepmother has no interest in speaking with me.”

“Why would you say that? She likes you.”

Oh, to be that young and naive, Erica thought grimly. Or not.

“I’m not having a conversation with Allison.”

“Why not? Don’t be mean. You have everything and they have nothing and my dad’s in jail.” The tears returned. “I can’t believe you won’t help! They’re family. Our family.”

They weren’t her family, a thought Erica kept to herself.

“She’s pregnant and alone and what about Jackson? Mom, please just go talk to her.”

She knew her daughter could keep going like this for hours. She’d never been a fan of circular arguments, but Summer was a teenager and an expert. She didn’t want to demand a change in subject or imply she wasn’t equally distraught about Allison’s problems, although she wasn’t. And the comment about her being mean had stung.

“Stop badgering me,” she said, careful to keep her voice calm. “I had nothing to do with what happened and I’m not the bad guy.”

“I’m sorry.” Summer reached her arms across the table. “Mom, please. Please, for me.”

Ugh. Children—what had God been thinking? Because resisting her daughter had always been impossible.

“Give the situation a few days to settle down,” she said grudgingly. “After that, if your stepmother wants to speak with me, then I’ll go talk to her.” She held up her hand to keep her daughter from interrupting. “I mean that. You aren’t to push her into saying yes. Me showing up uninvited won’t make anything better. This situation is difficult for her, and your job is not to make it worse. I know you think you know what’s best, but please consider that every now and then you’re wrong. Don’t play games with Allison’s life.”

Summer’s eyes widened. “That’s a really good point, Mom. I don’t want to make things harder. I’ll wait until we know more, then I’ll ask her if she thinks talking to you would help.”

Summer rushed around the table and hugged Erica. “Thank you, thank you. You’re the best. I’m sorry to be such a pain, but it’s all so scary.”

Erica held her close. “I know. I wish this wasn’t happening, too.”