if she should take the literary authors to impress Jeffrey or the more commercial ones that she knew she would enjoy.
'I don't even know why you're going to the beach,' Cathy said. 'All you've ever done is burn. Do you have enough sunscreen?'
Without turning around, Sara held up the neon green bottle of Tropical Sunblock.
'You know how easily you freckle. And your legs are so white. I don't know that I'd wear shorts with legs like that.'
Tessa chuckled. 'What was that girl's name in Gidget who wore the big hat on the beach?'
Sara gave her sister a 'you're not helping' look. Tessa pointed to the bag of biscuits, then to her mouth, indicating her silence could be bought.
'Larue,' Sara told her, moving the bag farther away.
'Tessie,' Cathy said. 'Run fetch me the ironing board.' She asked Sara, 'You do have an iron?'
Sara felt the heat from her mother's stare. 'In the pantry.'
Cathy clicked her tongue as Tessa left. She asked Sara, 'When did you wash these?'
'Yesterday.'
'If you'd ironed them then –'
'Yes, and if I didn't wear clothes at all, I'd never have to worry about it.'
'That's the same thing you told me when you were six.'
Sara waited.
'If I'd left it up to you, you'd've gone to school naked.'
Sara absently thumbed through a book, not seeing the pages. Behind her, she could hear her mother snapping out shirts and refolding them.
Cathy said, 'If this was Tessa, I wouldn't be worried at all. As a matter of fact,' she gave a low laugh, smoothing out another shirt, 'I'd be worried about Jeffrey.'
Sara put a paperback with a bloody knife slash down the cover in the 'take' pile.
'Jeffrey Tolliver is the sort of man who has had a lot of experience. A lot more than you, and I see that smile on your lips, young lady. You'd best realize I'm not just talking about the stuff going on between the sheets.'
Sara picked up another paperback. 'I really don't want to have this conversation with my mother.'
'Your mother is probably the only woman on earth who will tell you this,' Cathy said. She sat on the bed and waited for Sara to turn around. 'Men like Jeffrey only want one thing.' Sara opened her mouth, but her mother wasn't finished. 'It's okay if you give them that thing as long as you get something back out of it.'
'Mother.'
'Some women can have sex without being in love.'
'I know that.'
'I'm serious, baby. Listen to me. You're not that kind of woman.' She tucked back Sara's hair. 'You're not the kind of girl who has flings. You've never been that kind of girl.'
'You don't know that.'
'You've only had two boyfriends your whole life. How many girlfriends has Jeffrey had? How many women has he slept with?'
'I would guess quite a few.'
'And you're just another one on his list. That's why your father is mad about –'
'Don't y'all think it would be nice to actually bother to meet him before you jump to all these conclusions?' Sara asked, too late remembering that Jeffrey was on his way here now. She chanced a look at her alarm clock. In about ten minutes, her mother would be able to see for herself that she was exactly right. If Jill-June Mallard could pick up on it, Cathy Linton would know it the moment Jeffrey entered the room.
Cathy persisted. 'You're just not a "fling" kind of girl, honey.'
'Maybe I am now. Maybe I became that sort of person in Atlanta.'
'Well.' Cathy picked up a pair of underwear to fold, her brows furrowed. 'These are too delicate for the machine,' she chastised. 'If you wash them by hand and dry them on the line, they won't get torn like this.'
Sara gave her a tight smile. 'They're not torn.'
Cathy raised an eyebrow, showing a spark of appreciation. Still, she asked, 'How many men have you been with?'
Sara looked at her watch, whispering, 'Please.'
Cathy ignored her. 'I know about Steve Mann. Good Lord, the whole town knew after Mac Anders caught you two behind the Chilidog.'
Sara stared at the floor, willing herself not to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.
Cathy
'I don't even know why you're going to the beach,' Cathy said. 'All you've ever done is burn. Do you have enough sunscreen?'
Without turning around, Sara held up the neon green bottle of Tropical Sunblock.
'You know how easily you freckle. And your legs are so white. I don't know that I'd wear shorts with legs like that.'
Tessa chuckled. 'What was that girl's name in Gidget who wore the big hat on the beach?'
Sara gave her sister a 'you're not helping' look. Tessa pointed to the bag of biscuits, then to her mouth, indicating her silence could be bought.
'Larue,' Sara told her, moving the bag farther away.
'Tessie,' Cathy said. 'Run fetch me the ironing board.' She asked Sara, 'You do have an iron?'
Sara felt the heat from her mother's stare. 'In the pantry.'
Cathy clicked her tongue as Tessa left. She asked Sara, 'When did you wash these?'
'Yesterday.'
'If you'd ironed them then –'
'Yes, and if I didn't wear clothes at all, I'd never have to worry about it.'
'That's the same thing you told me when you were six.'
Sara waited.
'If I'd left it up to you, you'd've gone to school naked.'
Sara absently thumbed through a book, not seeing the pages. Behind her, she could hear her mother snapping out shirts and refolding them.
Cathy said, 'If this was Tessa, I wouldn't be worried at all. As a matter of fact,' she gave a low laugh, smoothing out another shirt, 'I'd be worried about Jeffrey.'
Sara put a paperback with a bloody knife slash down the cover in the 'take' pile.
'Jeffrey Tolliver is the sort of man who has had a lot of experience. A lot more than you, and I see that smile on your lips, young lady. You'd best realize I'm not just talking about the stuff going on between the sheets.'
Sara picked up another paperback. 'I really don't want to have this conversation with my mother.'
'Your mother is probably the only woman on earth who will tell you this,' Cathy said. She sat on the bed and waited for Sara to turn around. 'Men like Jeffrey only want one thing.' Sara opened her mouth, but her mother wasn't finished. 'It's okay if you give them that thing as long as you get something back out of it.'
'Mother.'
'Some women can have sex without being in love.'
'I know that.'
'I'm serious, baby. Listen to me. You're not that kind of woman.' She tucked back Sara's hair. 'You're not the kind of girl who has flings. You've never been that kind of girl.'
'You don't know that.'
'You've only had two boyfriends your whole life. How many girlfriends has Jeffrey had? How many women has he slept with?'
'I would guess quite a few.'
'And you're just another one on his list. That's why your father is mad about –'
'Don't y'all think it would be nice to actually bother to meet him before you jump to all these conclusions?' Sara asked, too late remembering that Jeffrey was on his way here now. She chanced a look at her alarm clock. In about ten minutes, her mother would be able to see for herself that she was exactly right. If Jill-June Mallard could pick up on it, Cathy Linton would know it the moment Jeffrey entered the room.
Cathy persisted. 'You're just not a "fling" kind of girl, honey.'
'Maybe I am now. Maybe I became that sort of person in Atlanta.'
'Well.' Cathy picked up a pair of underwear to fold, her brows furrowed. 'These are too delicate for the machine,' she chastised. 'If you wash them by hand and dry them on the line, they won't get torn like this.'
Sara gave her a tight smile. 'They're not torn.'
Cathy raised an eyebrow, showing a spark of appreciation. Still, she asked, 'How many men have you been with?'
Sara looked at her watch, whispering, 'Please.'
Cathy ignored her. 'I know about Steve Mann. Good Lord, the whole town knew after Mac Anders caught you two behind the Chilidog.'
Sara stared at the floor, willing herself not to spontaneously combust from embarrassment.
Cathy
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