Page 16 of Our Little Secret
“Oh.” He glanced in the mirror again, tightening the knot a bit, and Brooke changed the subject. “Is Marilee up?”
He shot her a disbelieving look. “How old is she? Fourteen? What do you think?”
“Okay, okay, I get it. My job.” She made her way down the hall and rapped on her daughter’s door before poking her head into Marilee’s darkened room. “Hey, time to get up.”
A groan emerged from the mound on the bed, where only a topknot of black hair was visible. “Nooo.”
“Come on.”
“I can’t.” An arm reached out for a pillow, then plopped it over her head.
“Sure you can. See you downstairs.”
“Nooo,” came the muffled reply. “Mom, I don’t want to. Really . . .”
“Too bad,” Brooke said and glanced around the room, where clothes were strewn on the floor. Her desk, pushed into the windows of the rounded turret, was obscured by her computer, gaming equipment, and iPad. Gone were the teddy bears and “blankies” and picture books, all replaced by video games and electronics and bottles of nail polish.
“See you downstairs.”
“No!”
“Fifteen minutes!”
Brooke closed the door again, annoyed by the confrontation that seemed to be a part of their morning routine. Just once Brooke wished she could escape the role of predawn nag. But not today.
By the time Brooke was through with her shower and dressed in jeans and a sweater, Neal had Eggo waffles warming in the toaster. A fuzzy blanket wrapped around her body, Marilee was seated on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her face pinched as if she were a vampire coming face-to-face with the sun.
“Good morning,” Brooke said as Neal slid a toasted waffle onto a plate and placed it in front of their daughter. Shep had gotten out of his bed and was beneath the bar, waiting patiently for any crumbs that might fall to the floor.
Neal prompted, “Your mother said, ‘good morning.’”
“What’s good about it?” Marilee was hunched over, her head resting on the counter while she twirled the plate in front of her nose.
Neal grinned. “Oh to be fourteen again. The joy of—”
“Dad! Stop!”
That was enough. Brooke said, “I think you meant to say, ‘thank you,’ as your father was good enough to make you breakfast.”
Marilee’s eyes were slits as she stared at her mother, but she did manage to mutter, “Thanks,” as Neal deposited a glass of orange juice in front of her. “I just don’t want to go to school.”
“You have to.” Neal was adamant as he turned to face her and bit into a bagel.
“There’s cream cheese in the fridge,” Brooke reminded him as she walked to the counter, where half a pot of coffee sat warming in the coffee maker.
“No time.” He took another bite and washed it down with a big swallow of coffee. “Big meeting this morning.” Taking a look at his watch, he grimaced. “Gotta run. Oh, by the way, Leah called while you were in the shower.”
“Leah?” Brooke hadn’t heard from her sister in eons.
“Mm-hmm. Said she’d phone you back.”
“Why?” Brooke asked, suddenly edgy that her sister had called. “Is something wrong?” Leah never called unless she was in trouble and needed help, usually in the form of money.
“Don’t know. She didn’t say. But she didn’t sound upset, if that’s what you mean.” Another bite. Another long swallow.
“But—”
“That’s all I know.”
