know. We could do some girl things, maybe take in a show.”
“She’d love anything you wanted to do after school. I’ll be back Monday night, but if you two are out on the town—”
“Tell the little darling to pack a bag. And what’s this about school?”
“Don’t you remember it? Teachers, apples, books?”
Molly laughed. “I didn’t pay that much attention.”
“Really, I only need someone to keep tabs on Sarah half a day. I’ll drop her at school on my way to the airport, so if you bring her back to our apartment after your night out—”
“I think it’ll be fun to play a real-life mom.” A smile warmed Molly’s voice. “Take some time, honey; stay in Boston a few days. You might get up there with your old friends and not want to rush off.”
Karyn stifled a laugh. If Kevin went to Boston, she might not want to stay through the funeral. “Thanks for the offer, but Tuesday is Sarah’s birthday. I can’t miss that. And I can’t afford to miss work, either—I have a big audition coming up.”
“Really! What’s the role?”
“Can’t tell you.”
“You minx. I know it’s a good part.”
“It is, but I don’t want to jinx it. So I’ll be back Monday night, I promise. And, Molly?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Karyn was blowing her nose when Sarah came into the room. Her daughter’s cheerful expression tightened to a knot of apprehension when she saw Karyn’s red eyes. “Mom? Did something happen?”
Karyn tried to smile, but her mouth only wobbled awkwardly. “A man died, honey. One of my college friends.”
“One of the Borg?”
“I hate that word. I wish you wouldn’t use it.”
“It’s not bad—it just means you do everything together. From the way you talk, I thought that’s how it was with you guys.”
Karyn exhaled softly. “We were very close.”
Sarah sank onto the bed, then settled her chin on her hands. “Will Dad be at the funeral?”
Karyn glanced at the phone. Would he? Kevin said he had plans for this weekend, but plans could change when someone died. “I don’t know, honey.”
A crooked smile flitted across Sarah’s face. “Maybe I should go. I could meet all your friends.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Well—” Karyn wrapped her fingers around her tissue. Why didn’t she want Sarah in Boston? She’d love to introduce her daughter to the group, but a funeral hardly seemed the appropriate occasion for happy introductions.
“Because you don’t need to miss another day of school. I’m going to fly to Boston, go to the funeral, and come right back. In and out; you won’t even know I’ve been gone.”
Sarah flipped onto her back, then let her head fall over the edge of the bed. “It wouldn’t kill me to miss a couple of classes.”
“It wouldn’t kill you to go to school, either.” Karyn stopped to tweak her daughter’s nose, then moved to her bureau. “Why don’t you find me something to wear? I’ll need something black—a suit, if you can find one, or a dark blue dress. But not a cocktail dress, nothing low cut.”
“Don’t you want to impress the Borg?”
“I don’t want to look like a soap star.”
“Gotcha.”
Sarah rolled off the bed and moved to the walk-in closet, already absorbed in her task.
Free of her daughter’s sharp eyes, Karyn paused at the bureau and studied her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were glassy, the result of too many tears, and her once-smooth cheeks were now etched with fine lines. Theatrical cosmetics covered those signs of age when the cameras rolled, but she wouldn’t wear heavy makeup when she met her friends.
What would the others think when they saw her? More important, what would Kevin think? Ten years had passed since they’d parted, ten years of terse telephone tugs-of-war.
Perhaps, for a funeral, they could call a truce.
14
Seattle
Early Sunday morning, Lisa Melvin pointed to a printed list on the refrigerator door. “Here’s a list of all their