Free Summer Breeze by Catherine Palmer

almost eleven, and I can wear it if I want to. I’m going to spend the night at Tiffany’s house. She gets to wear makeup. Her mom even helps her with it.”
    “Well, I don’t care what Tiffany and her mother do together,” Kim said firmly. “You don’t have our permission.”
    “I don’t need Derek’s permission,” Lydia sneered. “He’s not my dad.”
    Kim fell silent for a moment as she tried to remember what Dr. Groene’s life had shown her: order, serenity, peace. She had been raised with so much discord and confusion that she had rarely known what was allowed or what wasn’t. Her mother had been sober only part of the time, and rules seemed to ebb and flow with the alcohol.
    At a loss, Kim studied the comical looking child in the grass and then turned her attention to her husband. “Derek, what happened?”
    “I’ll tell you what’s happening.” The voice came from Miranda Finley, who was crossing the lawn toward the others. She had on a pale pink knit top, matching linen shorts, and a pair of pink beaded sandals. “These children are a mess, Kim. All Luke wants to do the entire day is play games on his little machines. Lydia is either on the phone or the computer. When I try to get them up and outside, they argue with me. I tell them I’ll go with them down to the lake to swim, but they refuse. I offered to take them shopping at the outlet mall. Only Lydia agreed, so we had to leave Luke at home.”
    “You left Luke by himself?” Kim cried.
    “Derek was home,” Miranda pointed out.
    “But you came here for Luke, not Lydia. He’s the one who needs to be watched.”
    “Which is exactly what I was doing the whole time this little imp was upstairs getting carried away with her makeover.”
    “ You helped me buy the makeup, Grandma Finley,” Lydia retorted. “You even picked out the lip gloss.”
    “You let her buy this junk?” Derek turned on his mother. “Lydia doesn’t have permission to wear makeup! She’s ten, for crying out loud.”
    “Every girl should learn to use a touch of cosmetics,” Miranda shot back. “And who better to teach her than me? My mother took me for a professional consultation when I was ready to start doing my face. I don’t think Lydia is too young to practice.”
    “She’s too young to go to her friend’s house looking like that,” Derek said. “Lydia is sweet and innocent. She’s pretty, like her mother, and I don’t want that to change.” His tone had softened as he spoke, but his face went grim again when he touched his gun belt. “I’ve gotta go. I’m about to be late to work.”
    “But what about taking me to Tiffany’s house?” Lydia whined. “You promised, Derek! You told me you would drive me—”
    “Grounded,” Kim said, cutting her off. Dr. Groene’s wise words formed in her mind as she stood and pulled Lydia up from the grass. Taking her daughter by the shoulders, Kim spoke firmly. “You are not going to Tiffany’s house this weekend, and you won’t go next weekend either. If you can follow the household rules until then, I’ll consider letting you invite her over here for the night. Now walk back inside and take that stuff off your face.”
    “I’m sick of this stupid, ridiculous family!” Lydia shrieked as she marched across the yard. Fists clenched, she shook her head. “I wish I lived with my real father.”
    “You do live with your real father!” Kim retorted loudly as she watched her daughter slam the door. Derek had already backed his truck out of the garage, and he drove off without even a glance at his wife. Turning to her mother-in-law, Kim eyed the blonde, spiky hair and the bright blue eyes rimmed in dark liner. Come to think of it, Miranda Finley wore far too much makeup for Kim’s taste.
    Unable to think what to say to the woman, Kim picked up her purse. “I’d better help Lydia find the cold cream,” she murmured.
    “I have an exfoliating cleanser that works so much better,” Miranda called after