I ran home after school bursting with good news. “Mom,” I shouted as soon as I pushed the door open.

She hurried from the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Somebody sounds happy.”

I proceeded to tell her the whole story. How Webb liked my article, but I had to revise. Mom’s face glowed. It was the same look she used to get when Eric hit a home run or picked flowers for her. She hadn’t looked happy in a long time.

“That’s wonderful news,” she said. “I’m proud of you, Allison.”

“Would you call me Allie?”

Mom’s eyebrows shot up. “What brought this on? Allison is a beautiful name.”

“Allie is my byline. Allie Drake—Staff Reporter.” I waited for an argument, but didn’t get one.

“I’ll try and remember to call you Allie. Reverend Walker says, well, she says I have to loosen up. The way I’ve treated you since Eric died is not exactly healthy.”

That was putting it mildly. Mom was smothering me. “So you went to counseling today?”

Mom nodded. “I need to talk about Eric.” She clutched the dish towel over her heart. “It’s all bottled up in here, and if I don’t get it out, I’ll suffocate.”

What she didn’t say was talking had pushed Dad away. After Eric died, the more she talked about him, the later Dad stayed at work. He wanted to pretend like nothing had happened. One night I’d heard him yell, “What good does talking do? We can’t fix it!”

“Allison … I mean, Allie, maybe you’d like to talk to Reverend Walker. Eric’s death and what happened with your dad has been hard on you too.”

I liked having a woman minister. I liked it a lot, but I wasn’t sure about counseling, at least not yet. “Let me think about it.” The smell of lemon and fresh herbs wafted through the house. “Roast chicken?”

“You have your dad’s nose for food. Since it’s Friday, I’ve invited Reverend Walker, Coach Murphy, and Franny Holt for dinner.”

“How do you know my teachers?”

“Silly question,” Mom said. “Teachers use the library all the time. Do you mind that I included them?”

Mind? I was thrilled! That would give me a chance to observe Coach and Miss Holt together again. Maybe I could even solve the other half of the mystery. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m looking forward to it.”

Hosting a dinner party was a big deal for Mom. She used to love entertaining, but hadn’t made the effort since Eric died. When I saw fresh flowers and candles on the dining room table, I showered and changed into a dress. I wanted my mom back. She hadn’t actually gone away, not like Dad, but she hadn’t been herself either. A dinner party seemed like a positive sign.

Reverend Walker was the first to arrive. She had the smile of an angel. Seriously, it lit up her whole face. She thrust a long Pyrex dish into my hands. “I brought a Coca-Cola cake for dessert.”

I’d never heard of such a cake. It was bound to be another strange Southern food like grits or black-eyed peas. My palate was definitely expanding.

I carried the cake into the dining room and placed it on the sideboard. I heard Reverend Walker say to Mom, “I’m happy you followed my suggestion. Finding something to look forward to every day is one of the keys to feeling better.”

I slipped into my room and pulled out my journal. I jotted down, Find Something to Look Forward to Every Day. Underneath it I wrote one name: Sam. She was better than hearing a favorite song on the radio or slurping a cherry coke.

When the doorbell rang for a second time, I hurried to answer it. Coach Murphy and Miss Holt stood outside. Both women fit their job descriptions. Coach was tall and muscled, while Miss Holt was small and bookish.

Coach handed me a Tupperware container cold enough to freeze my fingers off. “Homemade ice cream. Cranked the freezer myself.”

“It’s wonderful with Coca-Cola cake,” Miss Holt added. “I’d pop it in the freezer until after dinner.”

Reverend Walker must have planned dessert with them—ice cream to go with her cake. “Thank you,” I said. The frog was back in my throat because they were being so nice to us.

All three women crowded into the kitchen with Mom. She tried to shoo them away while she finished dinner, but they weren’t having it. Reverend Walker stirred the gravy, Coach carved the chicken, and Miss Holt rummaged in the junk drawer for matches. Maybe Mom had it all wrong when she’d shut herself away in the house and the library. Having people around wouldn’t bring Eric back, but it might help with her loneliness.

After Miss Holt lit the candles, we held hands around the dinner table. Reverend Walker prayed:

“Gracious Lord,

We thank you for the gifts of food and friendship. Bless my old friends Murph and Franny and my new friends Elizabeth and Allison.

Amen.”

I didn’t say much while the grown-ups chatted about how they’d spent their summers. Instead I watched Coach and Miss Holt with a reporter’s eye. I wanted to figure out what Sam wouldn’t tell me.

“Everybody should see the Grand Canyon at least once,” Coach said.

“It’s spectacular,” Miss Holt agreed. “I would have never ridden a burro in the canyon, but Murph insisted.” She laughed. “And the year before that she talked me into scuba diving lessons.”

“I’m not sure I could be talked into either of those things,” Mom said, “but it sounds like you enjoyed them.”

“You should see the pictures Franny took of the Grand Canyon,” Reverend Walker said. “She’s a gifted photographer.”

“I’d like to see those pictures.” I hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but I liked taking pictures too.

“Everybody’s invited to our house for a cookout,” Coach said. “You can see the pictures then.”

I had an aha moment. Coach had said our house. She and Miss Holt were roommates. The only other adults I knew who lived together without being married were Dad’s brother, Jeffrey, and his boyfriend, Dominic.

After dinner, Mom brewed coffee for the adults and heated apple cider with a cinnamon stick for me. I kept watching Coach and Miss Holt. They looked at each other in a different way from how they looked at Mom or Reverend Walker.

“Dwayne.” Coach snapped her fingers twice. “I can’t remember that kid’s last name.”

“Williams,” said Miss Holt.

“Yeah, Dwayne Williams. Unless I miss my guess, he and Sam Johnson will both be standouts in high school.”

“Sam is a natural salesman,” Reverend Walker added. “Every year she sells me magazines I don’t have time to read and candy I don’t need to eat.”

“I like Sam,” Mom said. “I’m glad she and Allie are friends.”

“Sam is the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” I said.

Mom set her cup down on the coffee table and stared at me. “I didn’t realize you liked Sam more than your New Jersey friends.”

I felt my face heat up. It was bound to be the color of a ripe tomato.

Once we’d said good night to our guests, Mom asked me to help clean the kitchen. I grabbed a dish towel, while she stood at the sink scrubbing the roasting pan. “Mom, are Coach and Miss Holt … you know … together?”

Mom dropped the roasting pan in the white porcelain sink. The noise the pan made echoed like my question. “What?”

“Are they together?” I repeated.

Mom turned off the faucet and swiveled to face me. “Where did that question come from?”

“From watching them at dinner. They remind me of a married couple. The way they smile at each other and go on vacations together. You know … stuff like that.”

Mom leaned against the sink. She gazed up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “They’re like Uncle Jeffrey and Dom.”

Dad’s brother was gay, but nobody ever talked about it. “You don’t mind?”

“No, if I did, I wouldn’t have invited them to dinner.” Mom tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not everyone in town is quite so open-minded, though. This is not a topic to discuss with your friends.”

“Why?”

Mom sighed. “Because gossip could jeopardize their jobs. Like Anita Bryant and that Save Our Children campaign. Some people will do anything to stop gays from living in their communities.”

Anita Bryant was a Christian celebrity, a former beauty queen, who sold orange juice on TV. She thought gay people were a bad influence on kids and shouldn’t be teachers. I’d heard Walter Cronkite talk about her on the evening news. “But Anita Bryant’s in Florida.”

“That’s right,” Mom said, “but her influence is spreading. Our state senator, Jesse Helms, has pledged his support. It’s better to let people turn a blind eye and pretend Murph and Franny are just roommates.”

“But that’s a lie.”

Mom gave me a hug. “It would have been easier for Franny and Murph if they’d fallen in love with men, but that’s not what happened.”

I rested my head against Mom’s shoulder. It was nice to be treated like an almost-grown-up. “Mom, you fell in love with Dad, but that hasn’t been easy either.”

Mom sighed again. “You’re a deep thinker, Allie Drake.”