Free Kiss Her Goodbye by Wendy Corsi Staub Page B

just didn’t have it in her to break rules the way Maeve did. Not back then. Kathleen’s rebellion came later.
    â€œJen’s not going to lie to me.”
    â€œDon’t let yourself get all worked up over it, okay, Kathleen?”
    â€œToo late,” comes the bitter reply, followed by terse “bye” and a click.
    Maeve stares unseeingly at the television. Oh, cripes, should she be more concerned about Erin? It never even occurred to her that her daughter wasn’t at school working on her biology. But Erin wasn’t hungry when she came in . . . so okay, maybe she went someplace to get something to eat.
    And maybe somebody other than Amber’s mother dropped her off.
    Maeve isn’t about to call the woman. She’s only met her once or twice, and got the impression that she’s one of those uptight family values types who frown upon divorce. The last thing Maeve wants to do is call someone like that to check up on her own daughter. That would give the impression that she’s one of those single parents who has no idea what’s going on in her child’s life.
    Nothing could be further from the truth. Erin tells her everything.
    No. Not everything. Not anymore .
    The truth is, she found out through the grapevine at the gym about her daughter going out with that pothead character, Robby Warren.
    â€œMom, God! Nobody says pothead,” Erin laughed when Maeve met her with that accusation.
    â€œI don’t care what they say. And you’re not dating him,” Maeve retorted.
    Actually, she does care. She likes to think of herself as more hip than the average mom—if hip is a word “they” say these days. She’s certainly younger than most of Erin’s friends’ parents, who are in their forties. Only Kathleen is Maeve’s age—but these days, she’s about as cool as Sister Margaret, their old sixth-grade teacher at St. Brigid’s.
    The phone rings again.
    Still holding it, Maeve presses the talk button. “Hello?”
    â€œI’ve got it, Mom,” Erin’s voice says from the upstairs extension.
    â€œAlready?” That was fast.
    Maeve hangs up—then wonders, belatedly, who is on the other end of the line. Erin must have been right on top of the receiver, expecting a call. For a second, remembering what Kathleen said about the girls lying about biology tutoring, Maeve is tempted to eavesdrop.
    But Erin would hear her pick up. And even if she didn’t . . .
    Well, it just isn’t right.
    Teenaged girls are going to tell the occasional lie. That’s just the way it is. They’re going to lie, and sneak around with their friends, and with boys. With any luck, they’ll survive and become upstanding citizens, like Maeve. And Kathleen. With any luck, they won’t hurt themselves—or anybody else—in the process.
    Yup. That’s the way it is. It doesn’t give their mothers—or anyone else—the right to eavesdrop or snoop. If her own mother wasn’t always checking up on her, Maeve might not have felt such a fierce need to grow up so fast. She’s determined not to make the same mistake with Erin.
    Still, she has a feeling she’s going to have her hands full for the next few years.
    Damn Gregory for walking out on her, making her a single parent when that was the last thing she ever wanted to be. Hell, that’s why she married him in the first place—because she wanted her baby to have a daddy. A daddy with a lucrative profession.
    Not that she’d welcome Gregory back now, the selfish SOB—but when it comes to child support, it would be nice to get something other than the financial kind. Not that the money that she does get is enough. Not by a long shot.
    Maeve sets the phone on the end table again, then—with a sigh of resignation—reaches into the drawer for her pack of cigarettes.
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    Taking a deep drag of filtered menthol, Lucy remembers