Driving With the Top Down by Beth Harbison Page B

processed to frizzy, damaged ends.
    “Be polite,” Chris cautioned.
    For a moment, Colleen thought he was talking to her, but then Tamara said, “Thanks for having me join you, Aunt Colleen.”
    God, this was uncomfortable. “You’re welcome. Of course.”
    They all stood there in awkward silence for a moment, and Colleen wondered if it was twenty minutes to ten, based on the old Irish lore that awkward silences happened twenty minutes before or after the hour. For every time she’d been right in pointing it out to Kevin, there were at least five others when it had been nowhere near the mark, so she resisted saying anything this time, though she and Kevin locked eyes for just an instant.
    “Well, we’d better get going,” Colleen said. “I’m starving and I want to hit McDonald’s before they start serving lunch. Are you hungry, Tamara?”
    She shrugged. “I’m fine.”
    “This is to cover her expenses,” Chris said, handing Colleen an envelope.
    “Chris, that’s not necessary.”
    “Of course it is. Take it.”
    No wonder Colleen had thought he was ordering her to be polite. He took on the same commanding tone with her that he did with Tamara. She took the envelope without comment and gave him a stern look he clearly didn’t notice or care to notice.
    He went to the backseat and took out a faded green backpack. “Tamara, where’s your suitcase?”
    “That’s it.” She gestured at what he was holding. “I don’t even have a suitcase.”
    He looked annoyed. Maybe self-conscious of this small indicator of his parenting prowess. “This is all you packed?”
    “Well … yeah. I mean … yeah?” She looked at him questioningly. “We’re only going for a week, right?”
    “Week and a half-ish,” Colleen told her. “But don’t worry, if we need anything else, we can certainly pick it up on the road.”
    Tamara turned her gaze to her father. “See?”
    His expression darkened instantly. “Listen—!”
    “Let’s go!” Colleen said a little too forcefully. “Time’s a-wastin’.” Good Lord, she was turning into Ma Kettle. But whatever this girl had done—and she knew it had been stressful for Chris—her father was clearly way past the point where he could take anything in stride. It looked like he was one or ten all the time with Tamara, and Colleen didn’t want to sit here and watch him go to ten.
    Tamara looked uncertainly at her father, then went to him and gave him a cursory hug. He patted her shoulder with an open hand. Then Tamara came to the car and opened the passenger door to get in. She moved the front seat forward and tossed her backpack in, then started to climb in the back herself.
    Colleen stopped her. “For Pete’s sake, Tamara, I’m not your chauffeur—get in the front!”
    “Oh.” The girl hesitated, then got into the front seat.
    Kevin pulled Colleen into a hug and said, “Bye-bye, baby.” Then whispered in her ear. “This is a good thing you’re doing.”
    She wrapped her arms around his lower back and gave him an answering squeeze before climbing in behind the wheel.
    The car started with no problem—that was when Colleen realized she’d been semi-hoping for a reprieve right up to the last second—and she put it in gear and backed out of the drive.
    As soon as they started toward the main road, she felt a rush of anxiety and glanced at Tamara, who looked away the moment their eyes met.
    “I’m starving.” She’d already said so once, and repeated it even though it was pretty meaningless. If she were this lost for words the entire trip, it was going to be a very long couple of weeks.
    Tamara nodded. “Yeah. You said.”
    “You look like you could use a little nourishment yourself.” Wait, was that bad? Everyone said it was just as bad to tell a skinny person she needed a cheeseburger as it was to tell a fat person she needed to put the cheeseburger down. Had she just insulted the girl thirty seconds into their trip?
    “I guess.”
    This was off to