Hadley trod ever so lightly down the steps, like Cinderella making her grand entrance into the ball.
The organza dress rustled. It was tight and horribly uncomfortable. The neckline itched, but Hadley didn’t dare scratch, because once she started, she’d never be able to stop. She kept asking herself why she’d put on the darn thing, but the answer was simple—she wore it to please her father, because she was somehow sure it was what he wanted.
Reaching the threshold to the living room, Hadley paused. She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. Her father sat on the sofa reading a newspaper. As she stepped inside, he looked up at her and his eyes lit up like summer sparklers.
“You look beautiful, Doll Face,” he said. “Perfectly radiant.” He motioned for her to sit beside him.
Hadley’s cheeks flushed. She’d met with his approval. Slowly, carefully, as though treading on eggshells, she moved toward him and settled into the comfy sofa by his side.
He set down the newspaper and put an arm around her. “I can’t believe how grown-up you’re getting. It seems like only yesterday you were a baby … spitting up all over me, drooling, and all that other disgusting stuff.”
Hadley blinked, trying hard not to let a frown muscle its way through her bright smile. What was so horrible about babies? Throwing up and drooling was what they did. She inched ever so slightly away, but he drew her back in tight.
“How about a game of cards before dinner?” he asked. “Or that kite I gave you last week—how about we try to fly it?”
Hadley’s body went rigid. A kite. He wanted to fly a kite. Just like Ed and Isaac. She sighed softly. Ed and Isaac …
Hadley wanted to tell her father she’d rather do something else, but there was a look in his eye she couldn’t quite identify. A look that told her she’d best not disappoint him.
He hauled her to her feet, only they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. She nearly tipped sideways, but luckily he caught hold of her.
“You’re like a bull in ballet slippers,” he chuckled.
Hadley’s mother poked her head into the room. “Where are you two off to?”
Her voice was an echo of what it used to be. There was no strength in it. No assuredness.
“Shouldn’t you be making dinner?” Her father winked. “I’m getting hungry.”
“Of course, dear.” She smiled. “I’m making all your favorites.”
Hadley’s lips were sewn tight. This mother was unrecognizable. Her face was not her own. Her voice was someone else’s. The mother she knew would never have responded that way. The mother she knew would have said something like, If you’re so hungry, why don’t you get up off that sofa and help so we can get it done quicker?
Now that she had her real father, Hadley found herself missing her real mother—the strong, fearless parking enforcer who would give tickets to truck drivers and UPS deliverers and order them to move their vehicles. This new mother couldn’t command a fly. Hadley gazed at the impostor with a mixture of disappointment and contempt.
Hadley’s father pulled her by the upper arm and together they headed toward the door. She slipped into a pair of shiny black patent-leather shoes that sat waiting. She’d never owned a pair of patent-leather shoes in her life, but these seemed to fit perfectly.
She followed her father around the side of the house. He went straight to the garage and yanked open the door. The old mess had been replaced with absolute order. Hadley gawked at the floor—it was so clean you could eat off it.
At the far end three bins formed a perfect line. Two blue recycling boxes—one labeled Paper and another labeled Plastic—sat side by side. A green bin labeled Compost completed the trio. Any rusty old gardening tools that had littered the floor were now good as new and hung neatly on a system of hooks along the walls. Even the old croquet and badminton sets Hadley had played with were now sitting neatly on a wooden shelf.
Her father walked to the back and located a kite. It was the same blue-and-orange one Ed and Isaac had been trying to fly that afternoon that now felt like centuries ago. Pangs of guilt jabbed at her insides.
“There’s no wind,” she said quietly, as they stepped into the yard, but even before she finished her sentence, a gentle breeze blew softly across her face.
“There’s enough,” said her father, chuckling. He walked to the center of the lawn. “Perfect weather to fly a kite.”
“Perfect,” echoed Hadley.
He handed Hadley the spindle and walked to the back of the yard, as the string unspooled in her hands. And then, like some bizarre déjà vu, he motioned for her to run with the spindle to force the kite airborne. Hadley turned, trying not to let him see her face. She missed Ed. He never ordered her mother around. He made her mother smile.
“All right,” said her father. “Go!”
Hadley had no choice but to run, her pink organza dress billowing around her. The neckline grated against her skin, but she resisted the urge to scratch. The string behind her pulled tight and the kite sailed upward. Her father shouted encouraging things like, “Great job, Hadley! Keep going!”
Then, like Ed, she turned at the wrong moment, and she tripped over her own feet. She fell hard, sliding along the ground.
The words of praise stopped immediately.
Hadley lay there, catching her breath, staring at the cloudless blue sky. She remembered how Ed and Isaac and her mother had laughed. It made her smile. She closed her eyes. The sunshine was warm and bright on her face, until a shadow crept over her.
Her father loomed, his face pinched and red. He grabbed her shoulders and hoisted her to her feet.
“You’re as clumsy as a cow,” he said. “Don’t you know how to do something as simple as fly a kite?”
Hadley shrank from his hot breath that jabbed at her with each word.
“I—I just,” she stammered. “My feet—they got tangled…”
“Look at you,” he said, roughly brushing dirt from her dress. “Look what you’ve done.”
Hadley noticed there was a tiny rip in the seam near her shoulder. She raised her hand to inspect the damage, but her father pushed it aside.
“You’ve ruined it,” he said.
“It—it’s okay, Dad,” said Hadley. “I can fix it. Honestly. I can sew it and it will look good as new.” Her lips quivered, but she commanded them to smile just one second longer.
“Fine,” he said, stepping away. “You do that. And clean this mess.” He pointed to the tangled kite string and the blue-orange battered lump lying in the grass. “Throw it out and take the bins to the curb. Tomorrow is garbage day. We wouldn’t want to miss getting rid of all that trash.”
“Sure,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. Hadley forced her smile to freeze in place. One more second. Just one more. And then he turned his back, and her jaw muscles went limp.
Hadley gripped the spindle and began winding the string, moving at a steady pace toward the kite. She breathed deeply, trying to decipher what had gone so terribly wrong. She hoped Gabe wouldn’t show up. The last thing she needed was for him to see her wearing this ridiculous dress.
Inside the garage, she tossed the broken kite into one of the recycling bins. She began lugging the one labeled Plastic toward the curb. She returned for the green compost bin, and then the one labeled Paper. She plunked it down at the curb beside the other two. Satisfied, she wiped her hands on her dress.
She was about to turn when the top newspaper in the recycling bin caught her attention. The heading read: MISSING. It was the newspaper from some time ago—the one Althea de Mone had handed her mother the first day they’d met.
Hadley lifted the paper and stared at the photo underneath the headline. It was of a man, a woman, and a little girl. The paper slipped from her hands and fluttered to the ground. They were identical to the family of dolls that had disappeared from her dollhouse.