Rangers deep inside.”
“What Rangers?” Shani asked.
I waved an impatient hand at the interruption. “That’s what they used to call girls like us who shopped on Sloane Street in
London—but my point is, they wear certain things not because they like them but because women in their position are supposed
to look a certain way.”
“My mom would probably fit right in,” Shani said. “Except that now she can’t afford it.”
“Right. So you know what I’m talking about. I’m betting Mum will see our Christmas festivities as a reflection on her—because
she’s made sure in the past that everything was just so in comparison with the parties of all the other ladies. If I make
sure she knows about every little thing, it will drive her crazy that it’s not being done the way she thinks is right.”
“Control freak?” Lissa asked.
“Maybe a little. Or someone who can’t see that a different way isn’t bad, it’s just different.”
“I don’t know,” Gillian said. “That doesn’t seem like much of a plan. Depending on control-freakishness, I mean.”
“But it’s all we’ve got.”
Gillian gazed at me thoughtfully. “How can you be sure that bringing your mom up here is the right thing? You don’t have any
evidence she still loves your dad.”
“Neither of them has married again, have they?” I couldn’t help it if my tone challenged her. These were my parents, after
all. Gillian hadn’t even been here for an hour. What did she know?
“That could just be because they haven’t met anybody they want to get serious about. Doesn’t your mom date?”
Admitting it seemed like undercutting my own argument. “Yes. But having someone escort you to the races or take you to dinner
isn’t the same as marrying him.”
“But she’s looking. She’s on the market.”
“No!”
“Gillian, leave her alone.” Lissa put a hand on my arm. “I’m with Mac. My mom could decide to fly home tonight instead of
coming up here on Friday. It’s tearing me up. I’d do anything I could to get my parents on the same thousand acres and keep
them there.” She smiled at me, and some of the hard lumps of anger inside me softened. A little. “You and I are on the same
page,” she told me. “Anything you need me to do, I’ll do.”
“Same goes for me.” Lissa and I had never been particularly close—not in the way she and Gillian were, or even Carly and I.
We had hardly anything in common—she liked fairy-princess designers like Robin Brouillette and Maja Fortescu while I liked
them edgy, like Alexander Wang, or classic, like Chanel. She liked surf music and Hawaiian slack-key guitar, and thought my
alt-Celtic stuff was annoying. And don’t even get me started on food.
But here was something two people from opposite sides of the world agreed on: Our parents were meant to be together, no matter
what they thought about it personally.
Across the hall, my mobile rang. “Maybe that’s Mummy, changing her mind.” I bounced off the bed and ran into my room, snatching
up the phone.
But it wasn’t Mummy.
“Mac,” Carrie shrieked. “Lachlan said he saw you coming through the village. Why have you no’ called me back?”
“It’s only been an hour. I’ve got people to sort. It is so good to hear your voice.”
“You’d have heard it sooner if you’d called me back. When are you coming over?”
“Not sure. Lots going on here. Parties to plan. Maybe tomorrow, when I’m in the village order—”
“Tomorrow?” Honestly, she sounded like a seagull on crack. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. A bunch of us are going to the pub
for shandies. Meet us there.”
“Carrie, are you crazy? I’ve got a houseful of guests. We’ve barely got our coats off, and I’ve said hardly a word to Dad.
I can’t come over now.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you? Come on. Kirsten and Lily and all our old gang are meeting us, and the boys are coming
too. I’m
“What Rangers?” Shani asked.
I waved an impatient hand at the interruption. “That’s what they used to call girls like us who shopped on Sloane Street in
London—but my point is, they wear certain things not because they like them but because women in their position are supposed
to look a certain way.”
“My mom would probably fit right in,” Shani said. “Except that now she can’t afford it.”
“Right. So you know what I’m talking about. I’m betting Mum will see our Christmas festivities as a reflection on her—because
she’s made sure in the past that everything was just so in comparison with the parties of all the other ladies. If I make
sure she knows about every little thing, it will drive her crazy that it’s not being done the way she thinks is right.”
“Control freak?” Lissa asked.
“Maybe a little. Or someone who can’t see that a different way isn’t bad, it’s just different.”
“I don’t know,” Gillian said. “That doesn’t seem like much of a plan. Depending on control-freakishness, I mean.”
“But it’s all we’ve got.”
Gillian gazed at me thoughtfully. “How can you be sure that bringing your mom up here is the right thing? You don’t have any
evidence she still loves your dad.”
“Neither of them has married again, have they?” I couldn’t help it if my tone challenged her. These were my parents, after
all. Gillian hadn’t even been here for an hour. What did she know?
“That could just be because they haven’t met anybody they want to get serious about. Doesn’t your mom date?”
Admitting it seemed like undercutting my own argument. “Yes. But having someone escort you to the races or take you to dinner
isn’t the same as marrying him.”
“But she’s looking. She’s on the market.”
“No!”
“Gillian, leave her alone.” Lissa put a hand on my arm. “I’m with Mac. My mom could decide to fly home tonight instead of
coming up here on Friday. It’s tearing me up. I’d do anything I could to get my parents on the same thousand acres and keep
them there.” She smiled at me, and some of the hard lumps of anger inside me softened. A little. “You and I are on the same
page,” she told me. “Anything you need me to do, I’ll do.”
“Same goes for me.” Lissa and I had never been particularly close—not in the way she and Gillian were, or even Carly and I.
We had hardly anything in common—she liked fairy-princess designers like Robin Brouillette and Maja Fortescu while I liked
them edgy, like Alexander Wang, or classic, like Chanel. She liked surf music and Hawaiian slack-key guitar, and thought my
alt-Celtic stuff was annoying. And don’t even get me started on food.
But here was something two people from opposite sides of the world agreed on: Our parents were meant to be together, no matter
what they thought about it personally.
Across the hall, my mobile rang. “Maybe that’s Mummy, changing her mind.” I bounced off the bed and ran into my room, snatching
up the phone.
But it wasn’t Mummy.
“Mac,” Carrie shrieked. “Lachlan said he saw you coming through the village. Why have you no’ called me back?”
“It’s only been an hour. I’ve got people to sort. It is so good to hear your voice.”
“You’d have heard it sooner if you’d called me back. When are you coming over?”
“Not sure. Lots going on here. Parties to plan. Maybe tomorrow, when I’m in the village order—”
“Tomorrow?” Honestly, she sounded like a seagull on crack. “I can’t wait until tomorrow. A bunch of us are going to the pub
for shandies. Meet us there.”
“Carrie, are you crazy? I’ve got a houseful of guests. We’ve barely got our coats off, and I’ve said hardly a word to Dad.
I can’t come over now.”
“Since when has that ever stopped you? Come on. Kirsten and Lily and all our old gang are meeting us, and the boys are coming
too. I’m
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