was her imitations and dry wit or the memory she evoked of lighter childhood days, Kate accessed something in Rachel that brought out a rare girlishness in her. Rachel had a mellifluous laugh that could be startlingly unrestrained, uncomplicatedly happy. When their father heard it, he would look up from his paperwork in the book-lined study, pull his glasses down his nose, and gaze at them, smiling. At those moments his joy was transparent, all his hopes and needs satisfied should his compromised heart give out tomorrow. But for Kate, it was at times a tiring tap dance knowing that was your role, the funny one to balance the smart one.
“Can I draw while we wait for the pizza?” James asked, and Kate handed him one of the notepads in her bag.
“Me too. Let’s play hangman, Mom,” Piper said, with the enthusiasm of someone who doesn’t know what she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. She held the pen between fingertips dark with marker from drawing on the ferry, and under crude gallows, drew seven horizontal lines. The resulting word would likely be unknowable to anyone but Piper.
Confident, the preschool teacher said. Willing to try new things. But so sensitive to criticism. When she saw she’d done something imperfectly—coloring outside the lines, writing too many
p
’s in her name—she would put down the crayon and walk away. Kate rarely corrected her daughter’s efforts; it was not in her nature to impose perfection. But where had Piper’s shame come from? Had a teacher chastised her too emphatically? A babysitter? It was so hard to account for what someone else might say to the children.
The waiter arrived with the pizza, fully loaded with vegetables and pepperoni. The children each took a slice and began plucking off toppings according to their dislikes.
“You going to call Max while you’re here?” Chris folded a wedge and inverted it, letting grease drip onto the paper plate.
“Yeah. He needs the help even more this year.”
Chris took a bite, and half of the slice disappeared. “I thought he was going to sell.”
“He got an offer. He hasn’t decided. But he has to do something.”
“Well, it’s a shame if he does.” The bell on the pizzeria door jangled as another family walked in, parents with four small children. Chris watched as they took a booth on the far side of the room, and each of the kids sat calmly and picked up menus. “Did you call back that guy about the thing?”
Kate frowned, not following his train of thought. She watched Piper pick up the cheese shaker a second time, though her slice was already coated with a white mist. Kate tapped the girl’s plate, signaling her to eat, and placed the cheese shaker back beside the other condiments.
“The job guy,” Chris said. “Your friend’s place opening in Dupont Circle.” He removed a few broccoli florets touching his pepperoni and then each small square of green pepper, and piled them to the side like seeds from watermelon.
Kate’s friend Anthony from culinary school had called just before they’d left for vacation. He’d accepted a chef position at a new restaurant opening in Washington, and wanted to submit Kate’s name for pastry. It was a great opportunity. The menu would have an emphasis on organic locally grown ingredients, and the decor was being done by the team credited with design awards throughout the mid-Atlantic states.
She shook her head. “I haven’t gotten around to calling him back.”
“Too much.” He nodded.
“No. It’s not that. It’s just—”
“Ow, it’s hot!” Piper began to wail, holding her mouth.
“What? Oh, hon, you shook the red pepper flakes on it,” Katesaid, cupping a napkin around the girl’s mouth. “You were only supposed to shake the
cheese
.”
Chris took a fresh slice for Piper and placed the cheese shaker in front of her. “It’s just what?” he asked Kate. James toyed with the pepper flakes, and edged the shaker back toward his sister’s plate. Kate
“Can I draw while we wait for the pizza?” James asked, and Kate handed him one of the notepads in her bag.
“Me too. Let’s play hangman, Mom,” Piper said, with the enthusiasm of someone who doesn’t know what she doesn’t know and doesn’t care. She held the pen between fingertips dark with marker from drawing on the ferry, and under crude gallows, drew seven horizontal lines. The resulting word would likely be unknowable to anyone but Piper.
Confident, the preschool teacher said. Willing to try new things. But so sensitive to criticism. When she saw she’d done something imperfectly—coloring outside the lines, writing too many
p
’s in her name—she would put down the crayon and walk away. Kate rarely corrected her daughter’s efforts; it was not in her nature to impose perfection. But where had Piper’s shame come from? Had a teacher chastised her too emphatically? A babysitter? It was so hard to account for what someone else might say to the children.
The waiter arrived with the pizza, fully loaded with vegetables and pepperoni. The children each took a slice and began plucking off toppings according to their dislikes.
“You going to call Max while you’re here?” Chris folded a wedge and inverted it, letting grease drip onto the paper plate.
“Yeah. He needs the help even more this year.”
Chris took a bite, and half of the slice disappeared. “I thought he was going to sell.”
“He got an offer. He hasn’t decided. But he has to do something.”
“Well, it’s a shame if he does.” The bell on the pizzeria door jangled as another family walked in, parents with four small children. Chris watched as they took a booth on the far side of the room, and each of the kids sat calmly and picked up menus. “Did you call back that guy about the thing?”
Kate frowned, not following his train of thought. She watched Piper pick up the cheese shaker a second time, though her slice was already coated with a white mist. Kate tapped the girl’s plate, signaling her to eat, and placed the cheese shaker back beside the other condiments.
“The job guy,” Chris said. “Your friend’s place opening in Dupont Circle.” He removed a few broccoli florets touching his pepperoni and then each small square of green pepper, and piled them to the side like seeds from watermelon.
Kate’s friend Anthony from culinary school had called just before they’d left for vacation. He’d accepted a chef position at a new restaurant opening in Washington, and wanted to submit Kate’s name for pastry. It was a great opportunity. The menu would have an emphasis on organic locally grown ingredients, and the decor was being done by the team credited with design awards throughout the mid-Atlantic states.
She shook her head. “I haven’t gotten around to calling him back.”
“Too much.” He nodded.
“No. It’s not that. It’s just—”
“Ow, it’s hot!” Piper began to wail, holding her mouth.
“What? Oh, hon, you shook the red pepper flakes on it,” Katesaid, cupping a napkin around the girl’s mouth. “You were only supposed to shake the
cheese
.”
Chris took a fresh slice for Piper and placed the cheese shaker in front of her. “It’s just what?” he asked Kate. James toyed with the pepper flakes, and edged the shaker back toward his sister’s plate. Kate
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