That Summer by Jennifer Weiner (read more books .txt) 📕

“Well, well,” he said, as soon as he saw Beatrice. “The prodigal daughter returns.” He swept Daisy and Beatrice with his gaze and asked, “Which one of you wants to tell me what happened?”

“I cut school,” Beatrice said, without meeting his eyes. “I went into Center City with a friend.”

Hal looked at her coolly. “Why?”

Beatrice shrugged. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Hal walked right up to her, so close the lapels of his coat brushed her shoulders. “Do you think this is a joke? You think you can just throw your opportunities away? I work my ass off to pay for private school…”

“I never asked to go to private school!” Beatrice shouted. And then they were off, yelling at each other, You always and You never; I’m disappointed and I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be.

Daisy had known that her husband would be furious about Beatrice’s dereliction. Her plan had been to nod along, calmly agreeing with whatever points he wanted to make, while praying her daughter wouldn’t provoke him. She should have known better. Provoking her parents was pretty much Beatrice’s job description at this point.

“If you get kicked out of another school, how’s that going to look on your college applications?” Hal demanded. “You’ve already got one strike against you. Why are you going for two?”

“I don’t even want to go to college,” Beatrice replied. With her chin jutting out and her brows drawn down, Daisy thought she looked exactly like her father, a small, female, purple-haired version of Hal Shoemaker. “I keep telling you guys! I tell you and I tell you and I tell you and you don’t listen.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hal said. “Of course you’re going to college.”

“Why?” Beatrice demanded. “I don’t need college for what I want to do.”

“And what’s that again?” He threw his arms wide, appealing to an invisible jury. “Sit around poking a needle into a bunch of fluff? You think you’re really going to support yourself that way?”

“I won’t know until I try.” Which, Daisy thought, sounded pretty reasonable. Clearly, Hal disagreed.

“You can do whatever you want with your life,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “After you go to college.”

“Not everyone needs college!” Beatrice howled. Don’t say it, Daisy prayed, but of course Beatrice couldn’t hear her. “Mom never graduated, and she’s doing fine!”

“Mom is doing fine,” Hal said, through clenched teeth, “because I am supporting her.”

Daisy’s head snapped around. “Excuse me?” She hadn’t meant to say anything, but that was just too much.

Hal kept talking, as if Daisy hadn’t spoken. “Do you think that you’d be living in this house, in this neighborhood, going to an excellent school, if I hadn’t gone to college? Maybe I should’ve just decided to sit around and knit or make muffins.” His lip curled as he said “muffins.” Daisy felt his scorn like a slap. And then she asked herself, what would Hannah have said to this, if she’d heard? What would Diana say, if she was listening?

“Hal,” said Daisy. Her voice was cool, and hardly sounded like her own. “That’s enough.”

Hal, red-faced, muttered something about “ungrateful” and “disrespect.” “That’s enough,” Daisy said again, and, finally, he subsided.

Daisy turned to her daughter. “Beatrice,” she said. “All your father and I want is for you to have options. If you decide you want to make a living doing crafts, that’s your choice, but a college degree opens a lot more doors than a high-school diploma does. And maybe you can get an arts degree.”

“Not on my dime,” Hal muttered, but at least he’d stopped shouting.

“My point,” Daisy continued doggedly, “is that we don’t need to decide any of that right now.” She pulled in a breath. “But you can’t cut school. You can’t get into any more trouble. You need to follow the rules.”

“Fine,” Beatrice muttered. She gave her father an insolent look, handed her mother her phone without being asked, and sauntered up the stairs, with floral skirts swishing around her legs and her carpet bag banging against her hip.

Daisy turned to her husband, but Hal was already on his feet.

“Hey,” she said, in a sharper tone than the one she normally used to address him.

Hal turned, and on his face was an expression of such cold fury that Daisy found herself breathless. “What?” he asked, but Daisy could barely speak. The way he was looking at her, it was like he was trying to decide whether to talk to her or just pick up one of the steak knives and throw it at her heart.

“Just… do you think that denigrating the work I do is going to make Beatrice want to go to college?” She used the word “denigrating” on purpose and hoped that she’d pronounced it correctly. “Because I don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound sorry at all. “But maybe you don’t understand the reality of the situation any more than she does. There’s no way you’d be living in this house, if you were trying to pay the mortgage with what you earn giving cooking lessons.”

“Well,” said Daisy, struggling to sound pleasant, “I also might not have decided to live in Lower Merion. I might not have thought I needed a four-bedroom house for three people. There’re all kinds of places to live in the world. All kinds of ways to live.”

“I never knew you had a problem with our life.” Hal’s voice had taken on a distinctly sarcastic edge.

Daisy threw up her hands. “I don’t have a problem with it, Hal. I’m happy here. I’m very happy. I’m just saying…” God, what was she saying? What was even the point?

“I know what you’re saying,” Hal replied. Unbelievably, he had picked up a stack of mail from the table by the door and was going through it, as if Daisy only required half of his attention. “And I’m glad you have your little business.”

My little business? But of course that’s how Hal would see