KENDRA RETIRED TO THE LIVING-ROOM SOFA, FELLED BY A WAVE of nausea stemming from the chemo—or, more likely, from the call that Brooklyn’s mom was on her way. She’d called Lance’s phone after he had let her know Brooklyn was there. And she’d asked if Kendra was home, saying she’d like to talk to her.
“And there you are, Miss Woods. Your pedicure is complete.” Brooklyn capped the nail polish, sighing with satisfaction at her work.
“Beautiful job, Brooklyn. Wow, lime green.” Kendra had been instructed not to look down while she did it. “Where’d you get that?”
“It’s Molly’s.” Her palm went out. “That’ll be a hundred dollars.”
“A hundred dollars?” Kendra’s mouth gaped. “You said it was free.”
“I changed my mind.”
“And they say to watch out for lawyers . . .”
Brooklyn’s nose wrinkled. “Huh?”
Kendra chuckled. “You better get ready. Your mom’ll be here shortly.”
“Can you ask if I can spend the night? Please?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But why? I haven’t gotten to stay over yet.”
“You can ask yourself,” Kendra said, “but since you sneaked out, she might not be feeling generous.”
Brooklyn folded her arms in a huff, then jumped up. “She’s here,” she said, looking out the window. She ran to the door and opened it. “Mom, can I spend the night?”
Kendra heard, “Brooklyn Renee, you’re not staying anywhere. You and I will have a little talk about your behavior when we leave.”
Lance came from the kitchen to the front door and greeted her. “Ellen, how are you?” he said. “Come on in.”
“I’m fine, thanks, Lance.” Footsteps entered the foyer. “Is this a good time to talk to Kendra?”
“She’s here in the living room,” Lance said.
Kendra shifted on the sofa as they approached. Introductions felt weird.
“Ellen, this is Kendra,” Lance said. “Kendra, Brooklyn’s mom, Ellen.”
Ellen wore jeans and a solid-colored tee, and her hair fell straight and blunt, stopping below the ear. With no makeup, she had a plainness about her, yet an attractive plainness.
Kendra’s stomach felt tight. “How are you?” she managed.
“I’m good. How are you?” Ellen asked. “Well. Sorry. Brooklyn told me you were sick, and I see now myself. I’m very sorry you have to go through this.”
“I appreciate that,” Kendra said.
“Is this . . . the same cancer your mother had?”
Okay, really? Kendra sighed inside and tried to think about the pep talk Lance had given her.
“No, it isn’t.”
“If you’re feeling up to it, I wondered if I could talk to you a minute.”
“Brooklyn, let’s get some cookies and milk, if your mom will let you,” Lance said.
“Sounds good,” Ellen said. “Thanks.”
When Lance and Brooklyn were gone, Ellen gestured toward the chair. “Mind if I sit?”
Kendra shook her head.
“First, I’ve heard a lot about you—”
“Ellen, seriously,” Kendra said, “you’re telling me you heard a lot about me, from my dad, in the midst of your affair?”
“Actually, I worked with your dad”—she cleared her throat—“before . . . Look, this isn’t easy for me either. I only wanted to talk to you because of Brooklyn. I’m trying to understand what’s going on.”
“What’s going on with what?”
“Out of the blue, my daughter never wants to be home. She only wants to spend time over here.”
Kendra frowned. “I don’t see that it’s out of the blue. It’s because she found out she has a brother and sister who live around the corner, and she enjoys spending time here.”
“I’m wondering if there’s more to it, though,” Ellen said.
She sat forward and kept eye contact. But then, Kendra shouldn’t be surprised. You’d have to have a direct nature to confront the wife, as Ellen had.
“I don’t expect you to like me,” Ellen said, “but I hope you won’t poison Brooklyn’s mind against me.”
“What? I would never do that,” Kendra said. “I don’t believe in coming between parents and their children, by word or deed.”
Ellen’s mouth tightened. “I had to ask.” She stood. “So you don’t have a problem with Brooklyn coming over here?”
“Of course not,” Kendra said. “I love Brooklyn.”
“Well. Thank you for your kindness to my daughter.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Kendra said. “She’s my sister.”
Ellen started toward the entryway and paused. “I do the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure every year. I hope you beat this thing.”
“Thank you.”
“And can I say one last thing?” She didn’t wait for a response. “There are two sides to every story.” Then she called to her daughter. “Brooklyn, let’s go.”
Brooklyn ran into the living room and hugged Kendra. “See you tomorrow,” Brooklyn sang.
“You don’t know that yet,” Ellen said.
“Love you, Brookie,” Kendra said.
“Love you too.”
Lance came in after they’d left. “So how’d it go?”
“She wanted to know if we were poisoning Brooklyn against her, since she’d rather be here than home.”
“What?”
“That’s what I said. But just before she left she said something curious: ‘There are two sides to every story.’ ”
“You might get to hear the other side sooner than you think.”
Kendra looked at him. “Why?”
“I got an e-mail from your dad,” Lance said. “He’s planning a trip to the States. He’ll be here by the end of September.”