Firefly Lane (38 page)

"I'm not arguing. I'm explaining. Emily gets to sit in the front seat and so does Rachel. You're the only mom who won't—"

Kate pulled into the garage and hit the brakes just hard enough to send the grocery bags flying forward. It was worth it, since it shut Marah up. "Help me carry stuff in."

Marah grabbed a single bag and went inside.

Before Kate could reprimand her, Johnny came into the garage and got a load. Kate and the boys followed him into the house.

As usual, the TV was on, too loud for Kate's taste, and turned to CNN.

"I'll put the boys down for their nap," Johnny said when all the bags were on the counter. "Then I have good news for you."

Kate tossed him a tired smile. "I could use some. Thanks."

Thirty minutes later, he came back downstairs. Kate was at the dining room table, spreading out the fabric for the last few ballet costumes she had to make. Nine down; three to go.

"I'm an idiot," she said, more to herself than to him. "Next time they ask for volunteers, I am
not
going to raise my hand."

He came up behind her, pulled her to her feet, and turned her to face him. "You say that every time."

"Like I said: I'm an idiot. So what's my good news? You're making dinner?"

"Tully called."

"That's my good news? She calls every Saturday."

"She's coming to Marah's recital, and she wants to throw her goddaughter a little surprise party."

She pulled out of his arms.

"You're not smiling," he said, frowning.

Kate was surprised at the flare of anger she felt. "Dance is the only thing Marah and I do together. I was going to have a party for her here."

"Oh."

She could tell her husband wanted to say more, but he was too smart to do it. He knew this wasn't his call.

Finally Kate sighed. She was being selfish and they both knew it. Marah idolized her godmother and would love a surprise party. "What time will she be here?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

On the day of the recital Marah was so nervous and excited she could barely contain her emotions. As usual, the stress of it all turned her into a pint-sized diva given to jumbo-jet-sized tantrums. Now she stood by the dining room table, one hand on her hip, dressed in faded low-rise jeans and a pink top that read Baby One More Time in rhinestones. An inch of skin showed between the bottom of her shirt and the waistband of her jeans. "Where did you put my butterfly barrettes?"

Hunched over the sewing machine, Kate barely glanced up. "They're in your bathroom drawer. Top one. And you're not wearing that top out of the house."

Marah's mouth dropped open. "But it was a birthday present."

"Yeah, well, your Aunt Tully is an idiot."

"Everyone gets to dress like this."

"You're breaking my heart. Really. Now go change. I don't have time to argue with you."

Marah sighed dramatically and stormed back upstairs.

Kate shook her head. It wasn't just the recital. Everything with Marah lately was high drama. Her daughter was either giggling and happy or flat-out pissed. Whenever Mom saw her granddaughter she laughed, lit up a smoke, and said, "Oh, the teen years will be fun. You should start drinking before it's too late."

Kate bent closer to the machine, put her foot on the pedal, and went back to work.

As it turned out, that ended up being the last time she paused for almost two hours. Then, as soon as she'd finished the costumes for the dance recital, she rushed on to her other chores—finding hangers, packing the car, helping the boys brush their teeth, and breaking up fights. Thankfully Johnny took care of dinner and the dishes.

At six o'clock, she herded everyone to the car and helped the boys into their car seats, then took her own seat. "Have I forgotten anything?"

Johnny looked at her. "You have spaghetti sauce on your forehead."

She flipped down the visor and saw herself in the tiny rectangular mirror. Sure enough, she had a streak of red across her brow.

"I didn't take a shower," she said, horrified.

"I wondered about that," Johnny said.

She turned to him. "You
knew
?"

"When I told you it was five o'clock you bit my head off and told me to make dinner."

She groaned. In all the hoopla, she'd forgotten to get herself ready. She was still dressed in her oldest pair of jeans, a baggy UW sweatshirt, and scuffed Adidas. "I look like a bag lady."

"But one who went to college."

Ignoring him, she ran out of the car, hearing Marah shriek behind her, "Wear makeup, Mom!"

Kate dug through her drawers, found a pair of fairly new black stirrup pants and a thigh-length black and white V-neck sweater. Were stirrup pants still in style? She didn't know. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she anchored it with a white scrunchie, then brushed her teeth and put on mascara and blush.

Outside, a horn honked.

She grabbed a pair of black silk ankle socks and a pair of suede flats and ran back to the car.

"We're going to be late," Marah whined. "Everyone else is probably already there."

"We're fine," Kate said, only slightly out of breath.

They drove through town and parked at the Island Auditorium. Inside, it was pandemonium: twelve girls between the ages of seven and eleven, their harried parents, dozens of rowdy, disinterested siblings, and Miss Parker, their seventy-year-old dance instructor, who demanded strict propriety at all times and somehow managed to corral this wild bunch without ever raising her voice. Kate carried the costumes into the dressing room, where she helped the girls get ready, bobby-pinned and ponytailed and sprayed their hair, and helped them put on a few touches of mascara and lip gloss.

When she was finished, she knelt down in front of her daughter. "You ready?"

"Did you bring the video camera?"

"Of course we did."

Marah grinned at that, showing off her crooked, oversized teeth. "I'm glad you're here, Mommy," she said.

And suddenly it was all worth it: the crazy deadline, the late nights sewing and ironing, the tired, bleeding fingers. She did it all for a split second of togetherness. "Me, too."

Marah hugged her. "I love you, Mommy."

Kate held her tightly, smelling the sweet, powdery scent of her. She thought in that moment how close they were to childhood's end and the start of puberty, and she held on too long. These moments were too rare already.

Marah pulled back, gave her another grin, and ran backstage with her friends. "'Bye!"

Kate got up slowly and went out to the auditorium, where Johnny sat in the third row, center, with a son on either side of him. She searched the seats around them, looking for Tully. "Is she here yet?"

"No. And she hasn't called, either. Maybe something came up." He grinned. "Like a date with George Clooney."

Smiling, Kate took her seat beside Lucas. All around her, parents and grandparents filed into their seats, bringing out their video cameras as soon as they sat down.

Kate's parents arrived right on time, taking their seats beside her. As always, Mom had the old black Kodak Instamatic dangling from her wrist. "I thought Tully was coming," she said.

"She said she was. I hope nothing happened." Kate held a seat for Tully for as long as she could and then finally let it go.

The lights flickered, and the audience fell silent. Miss Parker, dressed now in pink tights and a knee-length black ballet skirt and black leotard, walked out to center stage. She looked every inch the aging prima ballerina. "Hello, there," she said in her soft, querulous voice. "As you know, I'm—"

The auditorium's back doors banged open. As one, the audience turned.

Tully stood there, looking like she'd just left the Grammys. Her short blond-streaked hair gave her a gamine kind of beauty that made her smile look even bigger. She wore a stunning forest-green silk dress that hung from one shoulder and nipped in at her still-small waist.

Whispers overtook the audience.
Tallulah Hart
. . .
even prettier in person
. . . . No one was listening to Miss Parker's introduction.

"How does she stay looking so good?" Mom asked, leaning close.

"Plastic surgery and a battalion of makeup artists."

Mom laughed at that and squeezed her hand as if to remind Kate that she was just as pretty.

Waving at the Mularkeys, Tully walked to an empty aisle seat in the front row and sat down.

The house lights dimmed and Maggie Levine, dressed as the blue fairy, danced onstage. Her sister, Cleo, and the rest of the girls followed, pirouetting and prancing in what was supposed to be unison. The little ones watched the more experienced dancers intently, executing every movement a second too late.

The gawkiness only made it more magical. It was all Kate could do not to cry; then Johnny reached over Lucas and held her hand just as Marah twirled onstage. Halfway through her routine she saw Tully and stopped right in the middle of the stage, waving wildly.

Laughter rippled through the audience when Tully waved back.

When the performance was over, the applause was enthusiastic. The girls took several curtain calls, then giggled and ran for their families.

Marah headed straight for her godmother. She launched herself off the stage and landed in Tully's arms. A crowd formed around them, people wanting autographs and introductions. All the while, Marah beamed with pride.

When the swarm dissipated, Tully headed for the family, hugging them each in turn. She slung an arm around Kate's shoulder and used her other hand to hold on to Marah. "I have a surprise for my goddaughter," she said loudly.

Marah giggled and jumped up and down. "What is it?"

"You'll see," Tully said, winking at Kate. In a pack, the family moved up the aisle and went outside.

There, parked at the curb, was a pink stretch limousine.

Marah screamed.

Kate turned to Tully. "Are you kidding me?"

"Isn't it cool? You wouldn't believe how hard it was to find. Come on, get in, everyone." She opened the door and they all piled into the plush black interior. Tiny red and blue lights illuminated the ceiling.

Marah snuggled close to Tully, held her hand. "This is the best surprise
ever,
" she said. "Did you think I was good?"

"You were perfect," Tully said.

They stayed in the car for the entire ferry ride; not once did Marah stop talking to Tully.

On the Seattle side, the car started up again and they were driven around the city as if they were tourists on vacation, then they pulled into a brightly lit porte cochere, where a hotel doorman came out to greet them. He opened the door and bent down. "And which of you lovely ladies is Marah Rose?"

Marah instantly raised her hand, giggling. "I am."

He pulled a single pink rose from behind his back and handed it to her.

Marah looked awestruck. "Wow."

"Say thank you, Marah," Kate said more sharply than she'd intended.

Marah threw her an irritated look. "Thank you."

Tully led them into the hotel. On the top floor, she opened the door to a gigantic suite where all kinds of kid-type play stations had been set up—bouncing rooms and virtual boxing and miniature bumper cars. All the girls from the recital were already there with their families. In the center of the room was a white-draped table. On it was a huge tiered pink cake adorned with tiny frosted ballerinas.

"Aunt Tully," Marah screamed, hugging her. "This is
awesome
. I love you."

"I love you, too, princess. Now go play with your friends."

Everyone stood there for a moment, stunned. Johnny recovered first. Carrying William, he sidled up to Tully. "This is not spoiling her?"

"I wanted to get a pony, but I thought that would be over the top."

Mom laughed. Dad shook his head. "Come on, Margie, Johnny," he finally said. "Let's check out the bar."

When Kate and Tully were alone, Kate said, "You sure know how to make an entrance. Marah will be talking about this for years."

"Too much?" Tully asked.

"Perhaps just a bit."

Tully gave her a bright smile, but it wasn't the real thing. Kate instantly recognized the pretense. "What's wrong?"

Before Tully could answer, Marah came bouncing back, her little face shining with joy. "We all want a picture with you, Aunt Tully."

Kate stood there, watching her daughter practically swoon over her godmother. Although she hated to admit it, she felt a pinch of jealousy. This was supposed to have been their night; hers and Marah's.

Tully sat in the limousine, with Marah's head in her lap, stroking her goddaughter's silky black hair.

Across from them, Kate slept against Johnny, who also had his eyes closed. A small boy lay tucked alongside each of them. They looked like the Hallmark version of family perfection.

The limousine turned onto the beach road.

Tully kissed Marah's soft pink cheek. "We're almost home, princess."

Marah blinked slowly awake. "I love you, Aunt Tully."

Tully's heart closed like a fist around those words, and she felt a swell of almost painful emotion. She used to think that success was like gold, worth sifting through mud for, and that love would always be there, waiting somehow on the riverbanks for her when she was done panning. She couldn't imagine now why she'd thought that, given her background. She ought to have recognized love's scarcity early on. If success were gold, lying in rivers, love was a diamond, buried hundreds of feet beneath the surface of the earth and unrecognizable in its natural form. No wonder it touched her so deeply to hear those words from Marah. They'd been so rare in her life. "I love you, too, Marah Rose."

The limo pulled into the driveway, tires crunching on gravel, and parked. It took forever for the family to get out of the car, walk into the house. They all immediately headed upstairs.

Tully stood in the empty living room, unsure of what to do. The floorboards creaked. She'd tried to merge into the lane of their nighttime routine, but she kept getting in the way, so finally she gave up.