She was very becoming and thus I wasn’t surprised she had a boyfriend. She probably could have several if she chose.

And more if she didn’t look like a teenaged lady of the evening.

Studying her, I made a decision and put it into action.

“Amber,” I called and she looked at me. “I don’t know if my grandmother told you, but I work in fashion.”

“Yeah, she said,” she muttered, looking back to her almost empty plate. It seemed that was mostly all she could do: mutter, mumble and murmur.

She also had a lovely voice so this was unfortunate.

Now was not the time to get into that, however.

Priorities.

“Then, I hope you don’t mind that I share, you’re exceptionally pretty.”

Her eyes darted back to me and they held some surprise.

And this surprised me. Surely, she’d looked in the mirror.

Then again, the way she applied cosmetics, perhaps not.

I kept speaking.

“However, you’ve a heavy hand with cosmetics. Your eyeliner is quite thick and eyebrow pencils are meant to fill in what’s already there, not draw something new.”

The air in the room changed as Amber’s face changed. It went slack then started twisting.

Nevertheless, no mention had been made of these children’s mother, Jake was clearly no longer with any of his wives and someone had to tell her.

It was imperative.

So I kept talking.

“Jean-Michel DuChamp taught me how to do makeup,” I declared, her face stopped twisting, her eyes got huge and her lips parted. “If you’d like, I’d be happy to show you some of the things he showed me. You’ve clearly got an eye to what shades suit you best, you simply use too much of them.”

“You know Jean-Michel DuChamp?” she breathed.

“Of course,” I replied.

She blinked rapidly for a long moment before she told me, “I’ve got both his books. The one where he did all those supermodels up in crazy ways, like making that chick look like a baby doll and doing Acadie up in that badass futuristic look. I also have the other one where he did awesome stuff with all those Hollywood movie stars.”

I knew the model Acadie. She was very beautiful as well as very sweet. I also knew of those books mostly because Henry had worked on one.

“Henry shot that one with the models,” I told her.

“Ohmigod,” she whispered. “How didn’t I know that? Lydie told us you worked for Henry Gagnon. I should have known that.”

I shrugged. “I’ve no idea how you didn’t know, though that book was about Jean-Michel’s vision, not Henry’s photos. He’s often like that. Sometimes, it’s about the pictures. Sometimes it’s about what’s in the pictures. And when it’s the latter, he doesn’t like overshadowing that. He was credited in the book, of course, but with that book, he wished for it to be about Jean-Michel so, if memory of his contract serves, his credit was unobtrusive.”

“Cool.” She was still whispering.

I threw out a hand and offered, “If you like, I can take a photo of you. I’ll send it to Jean-Michel and ask him to share some pointers. He does this for me often. I’ll take a picture of an outfit I’m wearing and tell him where I’m wearing it and he’ll email me rather detailed instructions on how to make up my face. I’m sure he’d be happy to do something of that ilk for you.”

Her eyes were now very large and very bright and she was still whispering when she said, “Are you freaking serious?

“Of course,” I replied.

“Ohmigod, oh my freaking God,” she breathed and then looked to her father. “Dad, you so have to lift the ban on my cell. I have to tell Taylor and Taylor about this!”

Jake opened his mouth but I was able to ask before he said anything, “Taylor and Taylor?”

“Her best friends,” Ethan answered. “Taylor is a girl. The other Taylor is a boy and he’s gay.”

“He wants to be a makeup artist just like Jean-Michel,” Amber shared. “And Taylor wants to be a model.”

“You can tell them at school tomorrow,” Jake put in at this point and Amber’s eyes shot back to her father.

“Dad! Please! Seriously, we’re talking Jean-Michel DuChamp!” she cried. “They have to know, like now.

“Babe, you’d cut the shit you been pullin’, they’d know, like now. But you didn’t cut the shit you been pullin’ so they’re gonna know, like tomorrow,” Jake stated and finished on a, “Yeah?”

“That’s totally unfair and totally crazy,” she returned. “It’s like…like…Jimmy Choo strolled in and offered to fit me with shoes and you won’t let me tell my friends about a dream come true.”

Surprisingly, it appeared I shared some things in common with Amber as well.

“Tomorrow, Amber,” Jake declared.

“God!” Amber snapped and slouched back in her chair.

“This is, alas, a rather difficult lesson,” I noted and felt all eyes come to me but I was looking at Amber. “I don’t know what…shit you’ve been pulling but it clearly upsets your father. You can, of course, choose to act dramatically and feel misunderstood. But in truth, the easiest route to getting what you want is behaving as your father wishes. Then, your freedoms would be granted and you’d not feel like you’re feeling right now. And thus, you would be able to share this with your friends.”

“Right. Do what he wishes when Dad’s totally unreasonable,” she hissed.

“And how is that?” I asked.

“He doesn’t like Noah,” she answered.

“And who is Noah?” I queried.

“My boyfriend and he’s totally righteous,” she replied.

“I’m uncertain I understand,” I admitted. “Your father is being unreasonable because he does not share your opinion that this Noah is”—I paused—“righteous?

“No,” she said. “He’s being unreasonable because Noah wants to take me to a concert in Boston and Dad refuses to let me go when everyone’s going. It’s just one state over, it’s not like it’s in Miami or anything. And I guess Dad didn’t like it all that much when I told him exactly how I felt about him being totally unreasonable.”

“She used the f-word,” Ethan shared. “Like, a bazillion times.”

Good God.

The f-word?

It was clear someone needed to take this girl in hand and having her at my grandmother’s table with my grandmother not there to do it, I decided it would be me.

“First,” I began, “A lady shouldn’t curse. It’s crass. There are times when foul words have their uses but they are rare. Second, the idea of a sixteen year old girl going to another state with her boyfriend to see a concert is utterly preposterous.”

She stared at me, again blinking rapidly, and I heard a grunt come from Jake but I was not done.

“Amber, I’m certain I don’t need to point out your father is a man—” I began but she lost her astonishment and interrupted me.

“No, you don’t need to point that out,” she snapped.

“As I was saying,” I went on unperturbed when she’d stopped snapping. “Your father is a man which means he was once a young man much like your Noah. You’re an exceptionally pretty young woman. I’m certain this fact is also not lost on your father. It would be my guess that your father knows much more about young men, seeing as he used to be one, than you do. So, if he dislikes this Noah, if you look at it from this perspective, he probably knows what he’s talking about.”

I heard another grunt, this one swallowed and amused from Jake. I also heard a not-swallowed giggle from Ethan but I kept going even as Amber glared at me.

“Regardless, Noah could be a paragon of virtue but if your father loves you, it’s his duty as a father not to like him. If he didn’t care you were spending time with a boy, that’s when you should be upset. The fact that he cares about anything, Amber, says a great deal and you should take a moment and hear him because he does.”

When I was finished speaking, Amber was no longer glaring, there was no humor coming from the two male Spears and the air in the room felt heavy.

I knew why.

It was because they knew about me. About Gran. About my grandfather and my father. And about how my father didn’t care about me.

Not in any way.

No way at all.

My mind was torn from this alarming understanding when Amber spoke and she did it quietly.

“That’s what Lydie would say. She wouldn’t say it like that, using words like ‘paragon of virtue,’ but that’s probably what she’d say.”

“As my grandmother was the wisest person I know,” I replied, “then perhaps you should listen. Now, do you want some meatloaf?” I asked and finished, “Or, is Noah a vegetarian and you fear you’ll appear unattractive in some way if you are not as he is?”

“I heard it’s a good way to lose weight,” she shared.

“Well, it isn’t,” I returned. “It’s a practice that people who do it have a belief in. Although that does not factor, if your belief is to do it just to lose weight considering there’s no need for you to concern yourself with losing weight. You have a fabulous figure. I can’t imagine why you’d try to change it.”

“That’s what I said,” Ethan piped in.

“You’re eight and my brother,” Amber returned, eyes narrowed on her brother.

“Well, I’m not eight or your brother and I’ve worked in haute couture for twenty-three years,” I reminded her and her gaze came to me. “And trust me, you have a fabulous figure. You’ve made two mentions of losing weight and you’ve barely been here an hour. Cease doing that. It’s ridiculous. And if someone tells you differently, simply inform them of that ridiculousness.”

She again blinked at me.

Ethan burst out laughing.

“Now,” I spoke through his laughter, “after dinner, are we taking your photo for Jean-Michel or are we not?”

“Totally,” she whispered, not in wonder this time. I didn’t know what made her whisper and it mattered not to me.

“Excellent. You’ll need to wash your face,” I instructed. “He’ll need a clean palette.”

“I can do that,” she agreed.

“Fine,” I returned and then looked to the table and asked, “Is anyone wishing seconds?”

“Meatloaf!” Ethan said, doing this for some reason over-loudly.

And I found that coming from Ethan, who was a very amusing and sweet boy, it was not annoying in the slightest.

“Give me your plate,” I ordered.

He handed me his plate.

I gave him meatloaf.

Then I returned my attention to my plate but after partaking of some carrots, I felt something unusual so I lifted my eyes.

And my stomach dipped in that way again when I saw Jake watching me. His face was soft and his eyes, now gray in the lights of the kitchen, held something in them I couldn’t decipher.

Before I could put my finger on it, his mouth slowly, lazily lifted in a devastating smile that did devastating things to my breathing pattern before he turned to his daughter and said, “Pass the rolls, babe.”

I found that I really wished to know what was behind that look. What he was thinking and maybe more, what he was feeling.

And I found that it caused an inexplicable pain that I would never know because I would never ask and it was likely he’d never tell me.

In order to get past the pain, I decided to finish eating so I could serve dessert because the meatloaf (a recipe I looked up on the Internet seeing as I’d never made a meal for a family that included young children so I’d branched out) was quite good.

But my pavlovas were divine.

* * * * *

It was after meatloaf and after pavlova.

The children were at the kitchen table doing homework and I was doing the dishes with Jake.

I found it intriguing that Jake did dishes. I also found it felt nice doing dishes with Jake. Then again, when I’d cook for Henry, he also helped me do the dishes and I liked that too.

“Meal was superb, babe. That thing at the end, fuckin’ hell,” Jake murmured while drying a plate.

“I’m pleased you enjoyed it,” I replied, feeling exactly as I told him, pleased (very) and I handed him another wet plate when he set the one he’d finished on the stack he was making.

“Told Lydie, will tell you, need a dishwasher,” he declared.

“Gran always said she had two. Her hands.”

“Yeah, that’s what she always said,” he replied quietly, his deep voice amused but I could hear the melancholy.

I decided not to reply because his tone made me feel the same, sans the amused part.