CHAPTER 21
Joe
Over the next few days, my mother and Berry both left multiple messages on my answering machine, apologizing and pleading with me to call. I ignored them, and I must say, it felt good to take a stand.
At first, I could tell Cate appreciated my loyalty, and that it made her feel a little better about the whole incident, but as the days passed, she seemed to grow uneasy and encouraged me to make peace.
“They said they were sorry,” she reminded me one night as we were getting ready for bed.
“They were half-assed apologies at best,” I said.
“But they were apologies.”
I pointed out that her mother had apologized, too, but that Cate was still angry at her.
“That’s totally different,” she said.
“How so?”
“Because my mother’s defense is that she didn’t ‘say anything bad.’ ”
“Well, she has a point.”
“No, she doesn’t! And you know it, Joe. Talking to the tabloids about me—or us—is not okay. Ever.”
“Yes, but shouldn’t her intentions count for something?”
She stared at me, deep in thought. “Well, your mother and Berry had good intentions, too. They were just looking out for you.”
“At your expense,” I said.
“But I’m fine,” she said. “You’re way more upset about it than I am.”
I wasn’t sure if that was true, so I mumbled something about it being the principle. Which it was. I was sick and tired of my mother and Berry getting away with this stuff.
“Don’t get me started about ‘the principle.’ My mother sold information about me to the National freaking Enquirer. She’s the reason we’re in this situation in the first place.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve been in this situation since I was born. My mother cares more about appearances than she does about me. And Berry just hops right on board with it.”
“Okay,” Cate said. “We’re going in circles.”
I nodded.
“So,” she said, crossing her arms. “What do you say we make a little deal?”
“And what would that look like?” I said. I’d be screwed if she were my opposing counsel.
“If you make up with your mother—and Berry—then I’ll take you home to meet mine.”
I smiled because I knew she had me. “Okay,” I finally said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
—
A few days later, I had to make a big opening argument as co-counsel in a murder trial. Cate took off work to come and watch me—which I found really touching. It was the first time she’d seen me in action, and I nailed it, if I do say so myself, probably because I knew she was there. My grandmother showed up as well, the two of them running into each other in the courtroom hallway, each recognizing the other from photos, then sitting together in the gallery. It was the best feeling in the world when I looked over and saw my two favorite people, side by side.
Afterward, my grandmother took us to dinner at Harry’s of Hanover Square. She and Cate hit it off right away, drinking martinis and talking like a couple of chatty schoolgirls. I knew they’d get along, but I was surprised by how relaxed they both were as they bonded over their love of old Hollywood actresses and films. They agreed that there was no one better than Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca, but they seemed equally obsessed with Katharine Hepburn, praising her roles in The Philadelphia Story and Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (they apparently both had a thing for Sidney Poitier).
“I love how outspoken and unconventional Katharine Hepburn is,” Cate said.
“Yes—and cantankerous with the press,” Gary said, laughing. “She has no time for their nonsense.”
I waited for Gary to tell Cate that she and Katharine were actually pretty good friends, but she didn’t, likely not wanting to name-drop.
“You know…she wore pants in public long before most women would have dared to do so,” my grandmother added instead.
“Not before you did, Gary!” I said.
“We’re talking about Hollywood, Joe,” my grandmother said, always so modest. “She’s a trailblazer in that world—”
“Yeah,” I said. “And you’re the original trailblazer!”
My grandmother attempted to deflect again, but Cate returned to the subject, asking about Gary’s work for women’s suffrage. Her probing questions led to a long, lively discussion about politics, really the first time I’d ever heard Cate talk about the subject beyond telling me who she voted for in the ’92 election. She was so at ease with Gary, way more than she had been with my mother and Berry, although to be fair, Cate never really had the chance to talk with them.
On that subject, I went out on a limb toward the end of dinner, telling my grandmother about our disastrous trip to the Hamptons. She sided with me, as I knew she would, and showed Cate the appropriate amount of empathy. I wasn’t sure what Cate’s reaction would be to my raising the subject—she was usually so private—but she chimed right in, filling in the gaps of the story, blaming her own mother more than mine.
I shook my head, debating the point, then told my grandmother about our deal. That we were going to let both our mothers—and Berry—off the hook.
“I think that’s the right result,” Gary said, nodding. “You have to remember—people generally do the best they can.”
Cate leaned in, listening. “What if their best is abysmal? And I’m speaking of my mother now. Not his.”
“Well,” Gary said. “At that point, we have to work even harder to show them grace and forgiveness.”
As Cate earnestly nodded, I smiled and said, “But, Gary, why is your best so much better than everyone else’s? Huh?”
“It’s not,” my grandmother said. “We just see eye to eye, Joey.”
“Always have,” I said.
“And I can tell the two of you do as well,” my grandmother said.
“Yeah, we do, Gary,” I said, nodding, then smiling over at Cate. “We really do.”
—
The next day, I called my mother and asked if I could come over after work to talk.
“Of course,” she said. “What time?”
“Six?”
“Perfect. Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“No, thank you. I just want to talk. It shouldn’t take long,” I said.
“Certainly,” she said.
“Great. Do you mind if I ask Berry to come, too? I’d love to talk to the two of you together.”
“Of course. Then I’ll see you both tonight.”
—
I ran into Berry in the lobby of my mother’s building. We were both soaking wet, caught in an unexpected summer downpour, which gave us something to talk about on the elevator ride upstairs. We walked into the foyer, and my mother ran to fetch us towels.
After drying off the best I could, I walked straight into the living room, all business, taking my usual spot on the sofa. My mother followed.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked as Berry ducked into the powder room.
“Yes, please,” I said. “I’ll take a bourbon. Neat.”
She nodded, then walked past the baby grand piano, over to the bar cart, surveying the bottles. “Is Knob Creek okay?” she said, glancing back at me. “It’s all I have. Uncle Mark finished the last of the Blanton’s.”
“Whatever’s fine, Mom,” I said.
“Would you like a drink, dear?” my mother asked Berry when she joined us in the living room.
Berry declined, sitting on the far end of the sofa, an awkward gap between us. No one spoke until my mother returned with my bourbon—and a martini for herself. She handed me my glass, hovering over me.
“Thank you,” I said, looking up at her.
“You’re welcome,” she said, finally settling in her armchair.
As I took my first sip of bourbon, I got a strange feeling of déjà vu. I realized it was more of a flashback to the week of my eighteenth birthday, when the two of them had ambushed me with their lecture on Nicole. This time, though, the tables had turned. Clearing my throat, I began to speak.
“What happened in the Hamptons can’t ever happen again,” I said as boldly and clearly as I could.
“Joseph—” my mother said.
I held up my hand and said, “Please. Let me finish.”
My mother’s eyebrows rose with surprise, but she only nodded, falling silent while I continued my lecture.
“I can’t make either of you like Cate,” I said. “Nor can I force either of you to approve of her. In fact, I know you do not. Cate doesn’t have the pedigree you’ve always felt was important. Not even close. She didn’t go to college, and before you read about it in the press, I should tell you—she never graduated from high school.”
I paused, letting this information sink in, almost enjoying the shock they tried to mask with wide-eyed nods.
“That’s fine,” my mother said, her eyes flicking over at Berry.
“I know you don’t think that’s fine, Mother,” I said. “I know you’re both judging her right now…and I know you both think she’s not good enough for me. That I should be with someone more like Margaret.”
I paused, daring them to deny it, relieved when they didn’t.
“But if you want a relationship with us—with me—you’re going to need to keep those opinions to yourself,” I continued, now on a roll. “Because I don’t care what anyone thinks of Cate. Not the two of you. Not the press. No one. My opinion of Cate is the only one that matters here. And I happen to think she is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. She’s strong and independent and completely self-made. She’s also brilliant…and as worldly as any girl I ever met at Harvard—and much more authentic.”
I stopped abruptly, remembering that this wasn’t a sales pitch or a closing argument in a legal case. I didn’t need to convince them of anything; I just had to make it clear what I wasn’t going to tolerate moving forward.
“So yeah. That’s all,” I said. “Please keep your two cents to yourselves. Because I love Cate. And she is here to stay.”
Silence filled the room, but I made myself sit in it, waiting, until Berry finally cleared her throat and said, “You’re right, Joe. I’m sorry.”
Floored, I stared back at her, unable to remember a single time in the twenty years I’d known her that she’d simply apologized with no strings or explanations or buts.
“Thank you,” I said, nodding.
“I’m sorry, too,” my mother said. “We were just worried about you—”
“That’s no excuse,” I said.
“I know,” my mother said, looking down.
“I’m in love—and I’m really happy.”
“And we’re happy for you,” she said.
“Yes,” Berry said, nodding. “And just so you know—liking her was never the issue.”
“No,” my mother said. “She’s lovely—”
“The issue was simply—”
I shook my head and cut Berry off. “There is no issue. Remember?”
Berry sighed and said, “Yes. And we are doing our best to apologize. We are truly sorry.”
I took a swig of bourbon, swallowed, then finally let them off the hook. “Okay,” I said with a curt nod. “Apology accepted.”
My mother gave me a close-lipped smile, but she looked like she might cry. It crossed my mind that she was probably upset about the high-school diploma thing, not the way she’d made Cate feel. But it was a start.
“Okay,” I said, draining my whiskey. “I better get going.”
“Already?” My mother’s face fell. “You just got here!”
“I’m sorry,” I said, steeling myself for any guilt trips. “But I have dinner plans with Cate.” I put my glass on the coffee table rather than taking it to the sink the way I usually would.
“Oh,” my mother said, looking a little wistful. “Well, have fun.”
“Yes,” Berry echoed. “Have fun. Please tell her we said hello.”
“Will do,” I said with a brisk nod. Then I stood and saw myself to the door.
—
I may have gone a little overboard with my messaging, but the mission was accomplished. In the next few days, Berry called and invited Cate to lunch, and my mother sent her a note, apologizing for the way things had turned out in the Hamptons and saying that she hoped we would return soon. I happened to be at Cate’s place when she received it—so we read it together.
“Oh, my. What did you say to her?” Cate asked me. She looked concerned, but also touched.
“I told her how it’s going to be. Both her and Berry.”
I waited for her to ask more questions, but she just slid the note back into the envelope and put it down on her kitchen table.
“You know what this means, right?” I finally said.
“What?” she asked.
I pulled her into my arms and whispered in her ear, “It means…that it’s your turn.”
“My turn for what?” she said with a shiver.
“Your turn to make nice,” I said, then kissed her forehead. “With your mother.”
She made a noncommittal sound, so I put my hand under her chin and made her look me in the eye.
“C’mon, Cate,” I said, my voice as stern as I could make it. “We had a deal. You promised.”
“I know. I’m working on it.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means. I’m trying to set something up….”
“Have you called your mother?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She invited us to dinner.”
“She did? When?”
“This weekend. Saturday night.”
I grinned and said, “That’s fantastic.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because I hate Chip. And I don’t want to see him. Or be in his house.”
“Okay. Well…we could have dinner in the city? The three of us?”
“No,” she quickly said. “She doesn’t like to drive—”
“We could send a car for her?”
She shook her head. “No. That’ll cause a problem with Chip. Trust me.”
I hesitated, then said, “Can I make a suggestion?”
She nodded.
“Let’s just meet this challenge head-on.”
She nodded again.
“You got my back—and I got yours,” I said.
—
That Saturday, I picked Cate up late in the afternoon, and the two of us set out for Montclair. I could tell she was nervous, so at one point I reached over to put my hand on her thigh. “Can we have a positive attitude here? This’ll be fun!”
“Yeah. You don’t know Chip…. It won’t be fun. But I did invite Wendy…as a buffer.”
“Oh, cool,” I said. “I’m excited to meet her.”
“Yeah,” she said, sounding so glum.
“Positive attitude!” I said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“It could be fine…or it could be horrible…depending.”
“Depending on what?”
“On Chip’s mood. On how much he’s had to drink. On the weather. Who knows?”
I was really starting to hate the sound of this guy, but figured Cate was probably exaggerating. “It’ll be fine,” I said again, patting her leg, then turning on the radio.
About thirty minutes later, we arrived in Montclair. It was one of those Jersey suburbs with a great, family-friendly reputation, but it was even prettier than I’d expected. As we drove through the quaint downtown area, lined with shops, restaurants, and an old theater, I made a comment about it seeming like an idyllic place to grow up.
“For some, maybe,” she said under her breath.
“You didn’t like it?”
“The town is fine,” she said with a shrug, then pointed out my next right turn.
“Just fine? What didn’t you like about it? Too small? I always wished I grew up in a small town,” I said, babbling a little in my attempt to keep things upbeat.
“The town is great. I just didn’t like my home,” she said.
I glanced at her, struck by how sad the statement was, and it suddenly occurred to me that she may have grown up on the “wrong side of the tracks,” so to speak. But a few turns later, we arrived on her quiet, tree-lined street. The homes were modest, but perfectly respectable, and I felt a sense of relief. Not for my sake—but for hers.
“It’s that one,” she said, pointing at a narrow two-story house with white aluminum siding and green shutters. The lawn appeared freshly mowed and watered, and the simple landscaping was as neat as could be, like a child’s drawing. Whistling, I showed off my expert parallel parking skills, wedging my car into a tight spot along the curb.
“And voilà!” I said, turning off the engine.
“Yep,” Cate said. “Here goes nothing.”
I laughed and said, “Hey! What happened to that positive attitude we talked about?”
She rolled her eyes and said she’d try, making no move to get out of the car until I came around to open her door. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, I put my hand on her back and walked beside her toward the front porch. The house was only a few feet from the street, so within seconds we were at the door. Oddly enough, Cate rang the doorbell, her mother immediately appearing. She was attractive, and I could tell she had been very beautiful as a younger woman, though her skin was now weathered, like she was a smoker or a sun worshipper.
“Oh, hi! You’re here! Come in! Come in!” she said, beaming at us through the screen door before Cate pulled it open.
I smiled and said hello, then wiped my feet on the doormat even though I knew my shoes were clean. Cate walked in first, hugging her mom and fielding a few questions about our drive, as I trailed behind. Once inside, I did a quick scan of the foyer, noting the gray linoleum floor with an elaborate pattern and a framed painting of the Virgin Mary hanging on the wall.
“Mom, this is Joe. Joe, this is my mom…Jan,” Cate said.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Toledano,” I said.
“Oh, please call me Jan,” she said, staring up at me with a starstruck expression that I’d seen many times before.
I started to shake her hand, then changed my mind, leaning down to give her a quick, awkward hug.
“Goodness, you’re tall,” she said, blushing and letting out a high, nervous laugh. “And more handsome in person. My goodness gracious.”
“Mom,” Cate said under her breath, looking mortified. “Stop it.”
I laughed and waved Cate off. “Don’t tell your mother to stop! She’s being nice,” I said. “Thank you, Mrs. Toledano.”
She smiled at me as Cate peered up the staircase. “Is Chip home?”
“Not yet,” Jan said. “But he should be back any minute. Wendy’s coming, too! But she can’t stay…. Oh, goodness, my manners! Come in! Sit down!”
I smiled, then followed Cate and her mother down a short hall, past the kitchen, and into the very brown family room. The wall-to-wall carpet was brown; the sofa was brown; the coffee table was brown; the heavy curtains, closed and blocking out any natural light, were brown.
Cate and I sat next to each other on the sofa as her mother offered us something to drink, rattling off an extensive beverage list, which included not only water, beer, wine, and Coke, but also Crystal Light, Mountain Dew, and milk.
“Milk, Mom?” Cate said, shaking her head. “He’s not twelve.”
I laughed and said, “She didn’t say chocolate milk.”
“Exactly,” her mother said.
I pretended to contemplate this option, then told her I’d take a beer.
“We have two kinds,” she said. “Rolling Rock in a can and a Heineken in a bottle. I’m assuming you’d rather have the bottle?”
“Actually, I’ll take the Rolling Rock,” I said.
“In a glass?”
“The can is fine,” I said.
“Do a glass, Mom,” Cate said.
Her mother nodded, then asked if she wanted anything. Cate shook her head.
“Okay, then! Be back in a jiffy.”
While we waited, I took Cate’s hand and squeezed it. “She’s very nice,” I whispered.
“Thank you,” Cate whispered back, giving me a small smile.
A moment later, Cate’s mom returned with my beer.
“So, ladies…I’m drinking alone, I see?” I said with a laugh.
Jan said she was sorry, looking genuinely worried.
I told her I was only kidding, but she still popped back up, returning to her chair with a glass of white wine. Holding it in her lap, she said, “Well, I know Cate is going to be upset at me for saying this—but I just have to—”
“Mom—”
“C’mon. Let her—” I said, smiling.
Jan looked at Cate and said, “Can I?”
“Oh, whatever,” Cate said with a sigh.
Jan turned back to me and said, “Well, I was just going to say…that I can’t believe you’re sitting here in our house right now. And that you’re dating my daughter. It’s just incredible. I loved your father—and I’ve been following you since the day you were born—”
“Okay, Mom. That’s enough,” Cate interjected. “He gets the point.”
“Well, thank you. Truly. It’s really nice of you to say all that,” I said. “And it means a lot to me that you cared about my father. He certainly did so much to make people proud.”
“Yes, he did. He really did. Your grandfather, too. And your grandmother, Sylvia? What a pioneer! I just love her!”
“Mom. You don’t even know her—”
“Joe gets what I’m trying to say—”
“Yes, I do, Jan. And I appreciate it. So much…” I hesitated, then took the direct approach. “I know Cate gave you a hard time about the National Enquirer, but I thought it was really sweet. I love that your girl had my poster on her bedroom wall.”
“Oh my God,” Cate said under her breath, burying her face in her hands.
“See, Cate?” Jan said, jubilant. “I told you it wasn’t a big deal!”
“It really wasn’t,” I said, trying to make them both feel better at once.
Jan looked relieved. “Well, thank you for saying that…but it won’t happen again. Cate explained to me how the media is—I didn’t know. I thought it was okay so long as you didn’t say anything bad. Which I would never.”
“Yes. The tabloids are a slimy lot. They will twist what you say. Hell, they’ll make up what you say. You have to be careful, and it’s usually better to say nothing.”
“I know,” she said, nodding earnestly. “Lesson learned. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Well, thank you. But I’m mostly worried about you, Jan. I just want you and Cate to be safe,” I said, draping my arm around Cate’s shoulders.
“Gosh,” she said. “That is very sweet.”
“I mean it.”
“Thank you, Joe.”
The doorbell rang, interrupting our lovefest.
“Oh, that must be Wendy!” Jan said.
A second later, a cute brunette burst into the room.
“Hello! Hello! Hello!” Wendy said, giving Jan a big hug.
She was definitely the cheerleader personality that Cate had described, peppy and bubbly, bouncing on her toes as she made her way over to us. Cate and I both stood, and Wendy embraced her for an unusually long time.
“I’ve missed you so much!” she said.
It seemed a little over the top given how close they lived to each other—but genuine.
The second they separated, Wendy turned to face me, giving me a toothy grin. “Hi! You must be Joe!” she said, extending her arm to shake my hand. “I’m Wendy! It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Cate’s been hiding you. For too long. From her best friend.”
“I haven’t been hiding him,” Cate said. “We’ve just been laying low.”
“Well, better late than never!” Wendy said. She flipped her dark hair behind her shoulders, then turned and bounced back over to the chair next to Jan, sitting, smoothing her short skirt and crossing her very tanned legs.
“So, tell me. What’s new with you guys?” Cate looked at Jan first, then Wendy.
They both shrugged in response and Cate asked about Gabby.
Wendy’s eyes lit up as she talked about her young daughter at length. Her stories were a little dull, but her chattiness alleviated any pressure on me to make small talk. It also seemed to lighten Cate’s mood, Wendy’s cheerfulness feeling like an antidote to the brown shag carpet.
About a half hour of mostly Wendy talking later, Jan asked if we were hungry. “I made some onion dip,” she said. “It’s in the fridge. I could bring it out?”
“Well, sadly, I have to get going soon,” Wendy said.
“Already?” Jan said.
“I know. I wish I didn’t have to! But Matt is incapable of putting Gabby down for a nap, let alone bedtime.” She turned to me and told me how wonderful it was to meet me.
“Thank you for coming,” Cate said.
“Of course! I had to meet your new beau!” she said, beaming at me.
I smiled and said, “Let’s get together again soon.”
Before Wendy could answer, we heard footsteps in the foyer. A second later, Chip appeared. I stood up to shake his hand, but he refused to look at me, issuing a blanket hello instead.
Jan announced that she was going to get him a beer, then scurried off to the kitchen.
Wendy broke the silence. “How have you been, Mr. Toledano?” she asked. “Fighting the good fight out there?”
It was the right thing to say, apparently, because Chip smiled, nodded, and said, “Trying to!…How have you been, Wendy?”
“Great, thanks!” she said, then filled him in on her husband and daughter as Jan returned and handed him his beer.
I watched the whole thing unfold, marveling that someone could be in a room this long without acknowledging two of the four people in it. It was awkward and weird and rude as hell, and I felt myself getting angry on Cate’s behalf.
Wendy obviously picked up on the vibe, too, because she said, “So, Mr. Toledano, have you met Joe?”
Chip said no, then looked over at me and nodded. “Hello.”
“Hi,” I said back. “Thanks for having me.”
“No problem.”
“Well, I better go,” Wendy said, finally looking a little uncomfortable, too.
Jan and Cate both started to stand, but Wendy shook her head and said, “Nobody get up! I know my way!…Cate, call me soon! Love you!”
“Love you, too,” Cate said, her voice strained.
As soon as Wendy was gone, we all transferred to the dining room for Jan’s onion dip, followed by a lasagna dinner served with garlic bread and a salad. All the while, Chip’s passive-aggressive bullshit and bad manners continued. Not once did he address Cate directly, thank his wife for preparing our meal, or ask me a single question. In fact, all of his actions seemed designed to show me that he didn’t know or care who I was. Obviously, I didn’t need my ego stroked—and certainly not by the likes of him—but it became too much when he asked where my parents lived.
Cate’s foot found mine under the table, her toe pressing into mine, as I cleared my throat and said, “My dad’s dead.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Chip,” Jan said, looking horrified. “You know who his father is. Joseph Kingsley, Jr.”
Chip stared at me with a blank expression, then shrugged as if to say Never heard of him. It was so absurd that I shook my head and laughed bitterly. He could slight me all he wanted—but not my father.
“What’s so funny?” Chip asked.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head, still smiling.
“Seems like you’re amused about something?” he said, staring me down, clearly trying to intimidate me. “What is it?”
“Well, it’s certainly not my dead father,” I said, gazing back at him, poker-faced.
“Okay. Well, look. We better get going,” Cate said, standing, picking up her plate, then stacking it with mine, silverware on top. She turned and marched to the kitchen, and I heard a clang as she dropped everything into the sink. A second later she was back, crossing her arms, telling me again that it was time to go. Meanwhile, Chip kept eating.
“But I made dessert,” her mother said.
“They said they had to go, Jan,” Chip said.
“I know, but—”
“But what?” he said. “What don’t you get?”
She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it.
“We’ll do dessert another time, Jan,” I said, getting to my feet. “At my place.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she said. “And I’d love to meet your mother.”
“She’d love to meet you, too. You’ll have to come to the city soon,” I said, then added how much I thought they would have in common, and that she should also come out to the Hamptons.
At that point, I was just trying to piss Chip off. My tactic seemed to work because he got up from the table without a word, walked out of the room, then headed up the stairs.
Looking distraught, Jan rushed after him.
“See? See what I mean?” Cate whispered. “He’s a menace. A goddamn menace.”
I put my arm around her, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “I know. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded, and the two of us walked to the door. Then, just as we were about to leave, we heard Chip yelling from upstairs.
Cate closed her eyes and shook her head. She then turned around and looked up the staircase as Chip shouted. His words were unintelligible, but it didn’t sound good.
“Damn. Is she okay?” I said, now worried in addition to everything else I was already feeling.
Cate shook her head. I stared at her, putting all the pieces of the puzzle together. Looking back, I feel stupid that it had taken me so long to process what was happening in that house. Chip was more than an asshole—he was a wife beater.
“Should I go up there?” I asked Cate.
“No,” she answered quickly. “That’s a really bad idea…. I’ll go….”
Jan suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, descending them quickly. When she got to the bottom, she forced a smile and mumbled, “Sorry about that. He’s just in one of his moods. His job is so stressful—”
“Mom,” Cate hissed under her breath. “Quit making excuses for him.”
“I’m not—I just…It will be fine.” She smiled again, bigger this time, but I could see the fear in her eyes, along with a telltale red mark on her right arm.