The President's Daughter by Ellen Emerson White

her.”
    Meg flushed. “I am not.”
    â€œWhen your grandfather was alive, he used to sit there for hours, watching you,” her father said. “He said it was frightening.”
    â€œWell, I guess I look kind of like her,” Meg said. “But I mean like, she’s—and I’m—”
    Her father just grinned, glancing over his shoulder to check for cars, then pulling out into the street.

4
    RIGHT AFTER DINNER that night, the phone rang.
    â€œI’ve got it!” Meg yelled from the kitchen. “Hello?”
    â€œHi,” her mother said. “How are you?”
    â€œOkay.” Meg sat down at the table. “Where are you?” Which was always the first question any of them asked her these days.
    â€œDetroit,” her mother said.
    Oh. Well, okay. Whatever. “I thought you were in Iowa,” Meg said.
    â€œI was.” Her mother yawned, and Meg had a momentary disturbing flash of her sitting alone and exhausted in a hotel room somewhere. “I flew up because we ran into some luck today.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Meg asked.
    â€œThe UAW endorsed me,” her mother said.
    The autoworkers union. Which was a big deal. Meg wanted to gulp, since—well, her mother was getting a lot of endorsements. Already. “Um, wow. That’s really good, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s tremendous ,” her mother said. “I really wasn’t expecting it. Or, anyway, not yet.” She yawned again. “What did you do today?”
    Well, it was safe to say that no one had endorsed her. Meg shrugged. “Nothing much. Beth and I went in and kicked around downtown at Macy’s and everything.”
    â€œDid you pick up anything?” her mother asked. “Aren’t they still having Christmas sales?”
    â€œYeah. We were mostly just looking around, though.” Meg mouthed the word “Mom” as Steven came in.
    â€œWell, you really need a new ski jacket,” her mother said. “That thing you’re wearing around now is disgraceful.”
    Next, presumably, she would have to hear about how terrible her
hair looked, too. “I like it.” Even though it was ratty and beat-up, and covered with ancient, partially torn lift tickets.
    â€œThen, get the same kind,” her mother said.
    â€œYeah, but—” Meg pushed her brother’s hand away from the phone. “Steven, wait a minute, will you?”
    â€œCome on, let me talk,” he said impatiently.
    â€œI said, wait a minute.” Meg pushed him harder. “When are you coming home again, Mom?”
    â€œI think maybe next weekend,” her mother said. “So, do me a favor, and get the jacket, and maybe we can all go up to Stowe for a couple of days.”
    â€œWow, really?” Meg lowered the phone. “Mom says she’s coming home, and we can maybe go skiing next weekend.”
    â€œWell, let me talk to her,” Steven said.
    â€œOkay already.” Meg lifted the phone back up. “Steven’s being a jerk, so I’d better let him talk to you. That’s really good about the autoworkers.”
    â€œThanks,” her mother said. “Take care of yourself, okay? It sounds as if your cold is pretty much gone.”
    Meg nodded, dodging Steven’s attempt to grab the phone again. “Mostly, yeah. Where are you going tomorrow?”
    â€œSouth,” her mother said.
    â€œJust in general?” Meg asked.
    â€œIt feels that way. Actually, Atlanta, and Miami; then I have to head up to Washington by Monday.” Her mother laughed. “It sounds as though you’d better put your brother on.”
    â€œYeah, really.” Meg scowled at him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    â€œOkay. I love you,” her mother said.
    â€œUm, yeah, me, too,” Meg said quickly. “I, uh, went to your headquarters in Boston today; they were pretty neat. Here’s