She took a few steps in that direction, very conscious of the fact that her hand, which Logan was gripping rather tightly, was suddenly damp. She wasn’t sure if it was her nervousness or Logan’s resulting in a sweaty palm, but she didn’t have long to ponder it as Birdie dashed across the lobby and threw her arms around her waist, squeezing her breathless.
“Oh, Toni! I miss you. I miss you so much.”
“I miss you too, Buttercup,” Toni said, releasing Logan’s hand so she could give her sister a proper hug. Birdie tilted her face up to grin that winning smile of hers at Toni. Toni couldn’t help but smile back and give one of her light brown pigtails an affectionate tug. Birdie had a smudge of what was probably chocolate at the corner of her mouth, which Toni took to cleaning with her spit-moistened thumb. Birdie didn’t protest. She was used to Toni cleaning her face with spit. And tissues. And hems of T-shirts. The occasional dish towel.
Mom followed at a more socially appropriate pace. In heels and an expensive navy-blue pantsuit, she looked as well put together as she always did. Her silver hair was cut in a smart bob, and even in her midfifties, she was still turning heads.
When she reached the small group, she touched Toni’s shoulder and leaned in to kiss her cheek. Her gaze, however, was trained on the gorgeous man standing just behind Toni.
“You look familiar,” Mom said to Logan.
“He’s a rock star,” Birdie said helpfully. “But not the pretty one.”
Toni chuckled. When Toni had explained to Birdie why she was leaving for a while, she’d given Birdie a picture of Exodus End to familiarize her with the reason she was going. Birdie had immediately taken to Steve, who had long hair and thus was pretty.
“You don’t think I’m pretty?” Logan fluttered his eyelashes at her.
Birdie tucked in her chin and appraised him closely. “No. You’re a boy.”
“Steve is a boy too,” Toni said.
Birdie scowled as she tried to assimilate this information into her ideas of boys and girls.
“Don’t worry about it,” Logan said. “I mistake him for a girl all the time.”
Birdie beamed at him and took his hand in both of hers, instantly finding a new friend. “You are so funny.”
“So which one are you?” Mom asked.
Logan gave one of Birdie’s pigtails a tug—which made her giggle—and then lifted his gaze to Mom’s curious stare.
“I’m just the bassist,” Logan said with a heartthrob of a grin.
“This is Logan Schmidt,” Toni said. “This is my mother, Eloise Nichols, and my little sister, Bernadette.”
“Birdie!” Birdie corrected, staring up at Logan worshipfully. “I can’t say Birdadent right.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nichols,” Logan said, lifting his left hand for a shake since Birdie was gripping his right. “And Birdadent.” He tugged her pigtail again.
Watching him interact with Birdie had Toni melting into a puddle of sentimental goo. So many people tried to ignore her because they were uncomfortable with her condition, but he’d already won Birdie’s heart. And her big sister’s too.
“You said it wrong,” Birdie said.
“That’s a hard name to say,” Logan said. “I think Birdie suits you better anyway. Can you whistle like a bird?”
Logan whistled a tune. And Birdie rounded her mouth and blew soundless air.
“Let’s go find a seat in the dining room,” Mom said. They turned in the direction of delicious breakfast smells—bacon, sausage, biscuits, and cinnamon.
Logan and Birdie ambled ahead, Logan offering instructions on whistling, Birdie too happy for his attention to get frustrated that it didn’t come easy for her.
“Are you seeing that man?” Mom asked, nodding in Logan’s direction.
“Sort of,” Toni said, realizing too late that she wasn’t prepared to answer questions about her undefined relationship with Logan.
“Does he have a degree?”
“You mean, like, college?”
“That’s exactly what I, like, mean.”
Toni resisted the urge to cringe. She’d been hanging around normal people too long. Her use of language had already slipped and her mother—being the CEO of a publishing company and having a Ph.D. in literature and a bachelor’s degree in English—had always been a stickler for the use of proper grammar. Like was like her least favorite modifier ever.
“He doesn’t really need a degree, does he? He’s a rock star.”
“What can you two possibly have in common?”
Good question.
“You’ll become bored with him quickly.”
He was more likely to become bored with her, Toni mused.
“We’re having fun together. I thought you wanted me to get out and experience life,” Toni reminded her.
“Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I’m having an awful time balancing the corporation and the household and meeting Birdie’s needs. Unlike your father, I never was good at the domestic stuff.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I want you to come home. Birdie needs you.”
Toni gaped at her. So that was why her mother had brought Birdie with her? So she could guilt her into coming home early no matter how well she’d progressed with the book?
“You need to figure out how to care for Birdie, Mom. She’s your daughter.”
“I’m trying. She’s just . . .”
She gazed across the nearly empty dining room at her younger daughter, who had her nose pressed against the sneeze guard of the buffet as she eyed the available dishes. Logan stood nearby, keeping an eye on her and shooting Toni questioning looks.
“She’s a handful, Toni.”
“Is this supposed to be news to me? I practically raised her myself.”
“I understand why you want to get away from her—”
“I don’t want to get away from her,” Toni interrupted. “I just want you to take responsibility for her for a change.”
“Toni, can I have pancakes?” Birdie yelled.
“Go sit at the table, Buttercup,” Toni called, not wanting her to overhear the conversation she was having with their mother. “Logan will help you pick out something to drink.”
Toni was sorry to put Logan on the spot like that, but he didn’t seem to mind as he ushered Birdie to the table and then, with a napkin over his forearm, bowed to her like a garcon offering champagne.
“Maybe she can stay with you,” her mother said.
“On a tour bus?” Was her mother insane? She had to realize what went on in those tour bus lounges. “Besides, she has summer school,” Toni said.
“A lot of good an education is going to do her. She’s perpetually five.”
School had done wonders for Birdie—especially her language skills—but this wasn’t really about Birdie. It was about her mother.
“A lot of good an education is going to do me as your lifelong housekeeper and nanny.” Toni had never spoken to her mother so brusquely in her life. She stalked off before her obviously stunned mother could close her gaping mouth.
“You are so funny!” Birdie said to Logan as Toni flopped down in the chair next to her. The table was square, which meant she didn’t have to decide if she should sit next to Birdie or Logan—she could sit between them. But that also meant her mother sat across from her, so she’d be forced to look at her while she ate.
“Your glasses,” Mom said. She set the case down next to Toni’s plate.
Toni replaced her glued pair with the ones in the case. These weren’t her favorite frames, but at least they weren’t broken.
“I really wish you would get Lasik,” her mother said. “You have such a pretty face. It’s a shame to cover it behind those glasses. Don’t you think so, Logan?”
Logan jerked slightly. Why had Mom put him on the spot?
“She’s stunning with or without glasses,” Logan said. “But I think she should stick with whatever makes her comfortable.”
Birdie giggl
ed and covered her mouth with her hand, blushing ferociously.
“I think he likes you, Toni,” Birdie said with another bashful giggle.
“Of course I like her,” Logan said.
Why else would he be willing to subject himself to breakfast with her family?
“We’ve become fast friends,” he added.
Toni frowned at the napkin folded on her plate. Fast, maybe, but still just friends. Wonderful.
Their waitress appeared and Mom started her typical order of poached egg, no salt; whole grain toast, no butter; fresh fruit; and sliced tomatoes.
“I want pancakes,” Birdie said.
“You don’t need all that sugar,” Mom said. “You can have oatmeal.”
Birdie scrunched up her nose.
“How about we get the buffet?” Toni suggested, knowing Birdie would rather not eat than have oatmeal. They had fought this battle a thousand times in the past.
“That’s what I’m having,” Logan said.
“Coffee?” their server asked.
“Decaf,” Mom said.
“Can I have some?” Birdie asked.
“No. You can have milk.”
“Chocolate milk?”
“You don’t need—”
“The occasional treat won’t hurt her,” Toni butted in.
“She will have plain, skim milk,” Mom said.
Birdie made a face of disgust. “Yuck.”
“And what will you have to drink?” the waitress asked Logan with a flirty smile.
“I think I’m going to need a fifth of whiskey.”
“Jack Daniels okay?” the waitress asked, writing on her order pad.
Logan glanced sidelong at Toni. She knew he was joking—trying to reduce the tension at the table—but apparently no one else realized it.
“Change that to orange juice,” he said.
“With vodka?” The waitress glanced up from her notepad.
“Just orange juice.”
“It’s okay. Butch said I should get you anything you want, sir. I won’t judge.” She smiled at him.
“Musicians don’t really drink hard liquor with their breakfast,” he said.
She opened her mouth to argue, but Logan interrupted.
“I don’t drink hard liquor with my breakfast. I was joking about the whiskey.”
The waitress shrugged and turned to go, but Logan caught her sleeve. “You didn’t ask Toni what she’s having.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have overlooked you.”
Story of her life.
“Chai latte,” Toni said.
“Got it. Just help yourselves to the buffet.” She touched Mom’s shoulder. “And I’ll have your special order out as soon as possible, ma’am.”
The three of them left Mom sitting at the table conducting business on her smart phone.
“So the editor chick didn’t come after all?” Logan asked in a low voice while Birdie tried to add individual grapes to her plate with a spoon. “We could have used last night for fun instead of work.”
“She’s here; I’m sure I’ll get to deal with her after breakfast.” Scowling, Toni heaped several more sausage links onto her plate. “Do you know why my mother came?”
“To bring your glasses?”
“No, she’s trying to guilt me into coming home early. She doesn’t want to deal with Birdie on her own,” Toni hissed. It felt good to confide these things to a live person. Perhaps she didn’t need her journal anymore.
Logan turned his head to scratch his beard scruff on his shoulder so he could peek at Mom. “She seems perfectly in control.”
“Exactly. Dad used to even her out and make her relax, but since he died, she’s become so engrossed with her work, she won’t even take the time to raise her own daughter.”
“Sounds like she’s still mourning.”
His simple statement punched Toni in the gut and stole her breath. Maybe it hadn’t been ambition that had driven her mom to choose work over family. Maybe it had been grief.
“Do you think I should go home?” she asked.
“No,” he said, placing a biscuit on his plate with a pair of tongs and then adding one to Toni’s plate as well. “And I don’t say that for selfish reasons. Though I would if it came to that. I think she needs to face the reality of raising a daughter without your father instead of dumping the responsibility on you.”
“But I feel so guilty.”
“That’s because you’re a sweetheart.”
“Is Toni your sweetheart?” Birdie asked, her three hard-won grapes rolling around on her plate. Toni could have helped her fill her plate, but she wouldn’t unless asked. A lot of everyday tasks were challenging for Birdie, but she accepted her difficulties and took them in stride. She’d rather struggle a little than depend on others to do everything for her. It had taken Toni a while to figure out why Birdie would get so mad when Toni took over every task in order to complete them more efficiently. Birdie just wanted to do things herself no matter how time consuming or frustrating.
“Yep,” Logan said. “Toni is everyone’s sweetheart.”
Birdie scowled. “Are you a slut, Toni?”
Toni gaped at her. “Where did you hear that word?”
“At school. Jill has a lot of sweethearts. Ashley said it’s because she’s a slut.”
Ah, the joys of an all-inclusive classroom.
“That’s not a nice word to call someone,” Toni said. “I don’t want you to use it again.”
Birdie’s near-constant smile faded. “It’s a bad word?”
“A very bad word.”
“Toni only has one sweetheart,” Logan said.
“Is it Spiderman?”
Toni snorted. Where had she come up with that? “No, not Spiderman.”
“Better not be.” Logan scowled. “Slinging his sticky webs all over the city. It’s not decent, I say.”
Birdie giggled and tilted her head, a bashful blush on her round cheeks. “I joking. I know Logan is Toni’s sweetheart.”
Toni was glad someone was sure about that.
After they’d filled their plates, they returned to the table.
“You’re not really going to eat all of that, are you?” Mom asked, shaking her head at Toni’s overflowing plate.
Toni was admittedly a stress eater and yes, she was going to eat every bite of her high-fat, high-starch, high-protein breakfast.
“I’m hungry,” Toni said.
Mom eyed Toni’s waistline, which had never been as trim as her own, but Toni wasn’t yet ripping the seams out of her skirt. She speared one of her sausage links and bit into it angrily. Stress eating at its finest.
“I really don’t think you need that much food,” Mom persisted.
“Are you insinuating that she’s fat?” Logan asked.
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