Grown Folks Business Read Online Free Page A

me and Alicia hitting that keyboard together?”
    It was Sheridan’s first enjoyable moment of the day. Together she and Christopher laughed, and then together they said, “So, how was your day?”
    Sheridan still marveled at how much her firstborn was like her. So often they said the same things, thought the same way. Their only difference was that while Sheridan preferred sweats, Christopher had developed a penchant for his father’s preppy look. Today he could have posed for an ad from Junior Sportsman magazine, with his khaki pants and white golf shirt underneath the brown bomber jacket he’d received for Christmas. He even wore the brown loafers, although they weren’t Gucci like the ones his father favored. But Sheridan knew even that was coming soon. Like Quentin, Christopher had acquired a taste for all things designer, while none of that appealed to her.
    “You first,” Sheridan said, knowing she’d never tell Christopher the truth about her day. “How was the first day back?”
    “Cool. I’m lovin’ that next year at this time I’ll be a graduating senior on my way to Harvard or Hampton.”
    For the first time since Quentin had sucked the blood from her heart, Sheridan’s smile was genuine. She was so proud of Christopher: his grades were almost perfect; he was the president of the junior class and captain of his golf team; his guidance counselor had already told him he’d probably be valedictorian. And he didn’t give her or Quentin one ounce of trouble or worry—if she didn’t count the distress she’d felt from the moment Christopher had passed his driving test. There was no doubt he was the second love of her life.
    “Now your turn. How was your day, Mom?”
    Her momentary joy dissipated. “Not much happened,” she said before she could think about it. “Just the usual.” She almost laughed at how crazy that sounded.
    “What time is Dad going to be home? I need him to help me with my chip shots. We have a father-son tournament coming up.”
    His simple words twisted her heart, threatening to wring the last of her tears from inside.
    “Oh, I forgot to mention it, Chris. Your dad is out of town.”
    Sheridan returned to the chicken strips and green peppers and onions sautéing in the pan. She knew she wouldn’t stand a chance if she looked at her son.
    “Out of town? Where? Why? What happened?”
    Sheridan knew for sure now—Christopher Hart was going to be an award-winning journalist. She shrugged, hoping the motion would diffuse his concern. “He’s just covering for one of the doctors at some convention.”
    “Where did he go?”
    She hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know.”
    “Mom, you always know where Dad is. What’s going on?” His tone let Sheridan know he wouldn’t stop until he got an answer that satisfied him.
    “Chris, why are you asking me so many questions?”
    “Because something’s not right.”
    It was going to take more than words to convince him. “Chris, what’s the big deal? Your father rushed out of town. I know he’ll call me tonight. And if I need to reach him, I’ll call his cell.” She stopped, wishing she hadn’t mentioned that. She didn’t want Christopher or Tori suggesting they call their father. “Anyway, like you always say, ‘It’s no big deal.’ ” She turned to face him with as wide a grin as she could muster and playfully jabbed his arm.
    He didn’t share her smile but retreated. When he picked up his bag and almost moonwalked out of the room, Sheridan exhaled. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d lied to her children, but she didn’t regret doing so now. She needed time; they needed time: she wasn’t about to blow up their world with this awful truth tonight.
    The vision of Quentin in their bedroom, explaining why life had to be this way, returned to her mind, and she was surprised when fresh tears pushed from behind her eyes.
    What was she supposed to say to her children? What would life be like for them once