developing new curves, and she had just started eighth grade. All three of them went to Dalton, and Maxine loved the school.
“Can I borrow your black sweater?” Daphne asked, helping herself to a slice of an apple Sam had been eating.
“Which one?” Maxine eyed her with caution.
“The one with the white fur on it? Emma's giving a party tonight,” Daphne said nonchalantly, trying to look like she didn't care, but it was obvious to her mother that she did. It was Friday, and lately there were parties almost every weekend.
“That's a pretty jazzy sweater for a party at Emma's. What kind of party? Boys?”
“Mmm … yeah … maybe …,” Daphne said, and Maxine smiled. “Maybe,” my eye, she thought. She knew perfectly well that Daphne would know all the details. And in Maxine's new Valentino sweater, she was trying to impress someone, for sure an eighth-grade boy.
“Don't you think that sweater's too old for you? What about something else?” She hadn't even worn it yet herself. She was making suggestions, when Jack walked in, still wearing cleats. Zelda screamed the minute she saw them and pointed to his feet.
“Get those things off my floor! Take them off right now !” she ordered, as he sat down on the floor, and took them off with a grin. Zelda kept them all in good order, there was no worry about that.
“You didn't play today, did you?” Maxine inquired, as she stooped to kiss her son. He was either playing sports or glued to his computer. He was the family computer expert, and always helped Maxine and his sister with theirs. No problem daunted him, and he could solve them all with ease.
“They canceled because of the rain.”
“I figured they would.” Since she had all of them present, she told them about Blake's Thanksgiving plans. “He wants you all for dinner Thanksgiving night. I think he'll be here for the weekend. You can stay there if you want,” she said casually. Blake had done fabulous rooms for them in his fiftieth-floor penthouse, full of terrific contemporary art, and state-of-the-art video and stereo equipment. They had an incredible view of the city from their rooms, a theater where they could watch movies, and a game room with a pool table and every electronic game made. They loved staying with him.
“Are you coming too?” Sam asked, looking up at her from his drawing. He liked it better when she was there. In many ways, his father was a stranger to him, and he was happier with his mother near at hand. He seldom spent the night, although Jack and Daphne did.
“I might come for dinner, if you want me to. We're going to Grandma and Grampa's for lunch, so I'll be turkeyed out. You'll have a good time with your dad.”
“Is he bringing a friend?” Sam asked, and Maxine realized she had no idea. Blake often had women with him when he saw the kids. They were always young, and sometimes the children had fun with them, although most of the time, she knew, they found his carousel of women an intrusion, particularly Daphne, who liked being the primary female in her father's life. She thought he was really cool. And she was finding her mother a lot less so these days, which was appropriate for her age. Maxine saw teenage girls who hated their mothers all the time. It passed with time, and she wasn't worried about it yet.
“I don't know if he's bringing someone or not,” Maxine said, as Zelda made a snorting sound of disapproval from the stove.
“The last one was a real dud,” Daphne commented, and then left the kitchen to check out her mother's closet. Their bedrooms were all in close proximity to one another down a long hall, and Maxine liked it that way. She was happy being near them, and Sam often slipped into her bed at night, claiming he had bad dreams. Most of the time, he just enjoyed cuddling up to her, whatever the excuse.
Aside from that, they had a proper living room, a dining room just big enough for them, and a small den where Maxine often worked, writing
“Can I borrow your black sweater?” Daphne asked, helping herself to a slice of an apple Sam had been eating.
“Which one?” Maxine eyed her with caution.
“The one with the white fur on it? Emma's giving a party tonight,” Daphne said nonchalantly, trying to look like she didn't care, but it was obvious to her mother that she did. It was Friday, and lately there were parties almost every weekend.
“That's a pretty jazzy sweater for a party at Emma's. What kind of party? Boys?”
“Mmm … yeah … maybe …,” Daphne said, and Maxine smiled. “Maybe,” my eye, she thought. She knew perfectly well that Daphne would know all the details. And in Maxine's new Valentino sweater, she was trying to impress someone, for sure an eighth-grade boy.
“Don't you think that sweater's too old for you? What about something else?” She hadn't even worn it yet herself. She was making suggestions, when Jack walked in, still wearing cleats. Zelda screamed the minute she saw them and pointed to his feet.
“Get those things off my floor! Take them off right now !” she ordered, as he sat down on the floor, and took them off with a grin. Zelda kept them all in good order, there was no worry about that.
“You didn't play today, did you?” Maxine inquired, as she stooped to kiss her son. He was either playing sports or glued to his computer. He was the family computer expert, and always helped Maxine and his sister with theirs. No problem daunted him, and he could solve them all with ease.
“They canceled because of the rain.”
“I figured they would.” Since she had all of them present, she told them about Blake's Thanksgiving plans. “He wants you all for dinner Thanksgiving night. I think he'll be here for the weekend. You can stay there if you want,” she said casually. Blake had done fabulous rooms for them in his fiftieth-floor penthouse, full of terrific contemporary art, and state-of-the-art video and stereo equipment. They had an incredible view of the city from their rooms, a theater where they could watch movies, and a game room with a pool table and every electronic game made. They loved staying with him.
“Are you coming too?” Sam asked, looking up at her from his drawing. He liked it better when she was there. In many ways, his father was a stranger to him, and he was happier with his mother near at hand. He seldom spent the night, although Jack and Daphne did.
“I might come for dinner, if you want me to. We're going to Grandma and Grampa's for lunch, so I'll be turkeyed out. You'll have a good time with your dad.”
“Is he bringing a friend?” Sam asked, and Maxine realized she had no idea. Blake often had women with him when he saw the kids. They were always young, and sometimes the children had fun with them, although most of the time, she knew, they found his carousel of women an intrusion, particularly Daphne, who liked being the primary female in her father's life. She thought he was really cool. And she was finding her mother a lot less so these days, which was appropriate for her age. Maxine saw teenage girls who hated their mothers all the time. It passed with time, and she wasn't worried about it yet.
“I don't know if he's bringing someone or not,” Maxine said, as Zelda made a snorting sound of disapproval from the stove.
“The last one was a real dud,” Daphne commented, and then left the kitchen to check out her mother's closet. Their bedrooms were all in close proximity to one another down a long hall, and Maxine liked it that way. She was happy being near them, and Sam often slipped into her bed at night, claiming he had bad dreams. Most of the time, he just enjoyed cuddling up to her, whatever the excuse.
Aside from that, they had a proper living room, a dining room just big enough for them, and a small den where Maxine often worked, writing
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