Free What a Mother Knows by Leslie Lehr Page B

had disappeared, and he had to leave the only home he’d ever known to attend school clear across the country.
    When they reached the car, he opened the passenger door for her. She gave him a kiss before getting in. “I’m so sorry, Tyler.”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œFor putting you through all this.”
    He shrugged and helped her with the seat belt. “It’s not your fault, Mom.”
    She nodded, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

7
    The next morning, Michelle looked out the kitchen window at the children swinging their lunchboxes on their way to school. She used to love sending her kids off with peanut butter sandwiches cut in the shape of a heart. She and Drew had given up their apartment close to the beach and moved to the Valley because it was supposed to be the best place to raise children. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
    A car horn honked and the pace quickened as parents hurried their children to the playground before the first bell rang. Michelle was eager to get going too, but Elyse was still playing show-and-tell, matching each new sleeveless shift to a cardigan that would disguise her scarred arm.
    â€œThe actress from that HBO show bought this beige sheath in bright red. Poor thing had to duck the photographers outside of Saks, but the dress is classic.”
    â€œIt’s lovely,” Michelle said, running out of polite adjectives. She followed her mother to the bedroom, where Elyse spread a navy ensemble on the bed.
    As soon as Elyse left to give her privacy, Michelle shoved the sliding closet door open and found a garment bag. She pulled down the zipper, relieved to find her old uniform of black blazers and little black dresses, armor for the daily battles she’d fought in Hollywood. The suit hangers were too heavy for her left hand, so she yanked off the closest jacket and hoped the notched lapel was still in style. She struggled to slip the sleeve over her left arm only to see that her mother was right. She looked like a little gray-haired girl playing dress-up. Or worse: a little old lady.
    By the time Tyler returned from walking the dog, Michelle was dressed in the navy shift and ballerina flats as if she was going to a Junior League luncheon. Her mother was thrilled, and frankly, Michelle didn’t care anymore. She gave her blessing to her mother’s plan to buy makeup and waited for the taxi to leave. Then she hurried Tyler to the car.
    Michelle tried to relax and enjoy the scenery en route to the high school. She used to dream of living here, back when she shoveled gray slush from her mother’s driveway in Ohio. Whenever the Buckeyes played in the Rose Bowl, she’d put on another sweater and watch the lollipop palms wave from the blue sky on the television screen. When Nikki learned in California History class that they weren’t native, Michelle was disappointed. Michelle wasn’t native either, yet she had dug her toes in the sand. She prayed to the palms in the blue sky now: let Nikki be okay. She didn’t have to cure cancer or fly to the moon. Let her just be okay enough to go to college and get married and have a normal life. Let her be happy. Was that too much to ask?
    At the stop sign, Tyler pulled out his inhaler and sucked on the plastic spout. Michelle was looking out the window at the lost cat flier stapled to a telephone pole. His words came out in a rush. “Dad calls those coyote menus.”
    Michelle patted his knee. “I remember. They come down from the hills to hunt on hot summer nights. Had to take your baseball bat on walks when Bella was a pup.” She looked at Tyler. “Did you post fliers when your sister disappeared? Was there a reward?”
    Tyler steered the car onto the busy main street. “That’s the first thing we did—in the mall, at school, all over the neighborhood.”
    â€œWhat about the private detective? How long before your dad gave up?”
    â€œHe didn’t