Small Change Read Online Free

nose. It was a little long, but it wasn't a bad nose, really. Still, it wasn't a Miley Cyrus nose, which, for Claire, meant it was ugly. Rachel knew her daughter would grow up to be striking, and she assured Claire of that practically on a daily basis, but motherly assurance was a very small shield to carry against peer-driven standards of beauty.
    â€œWhat did Daddy give you?” Rachel asked her. Why did she ask? Did she really want to know?
    Her face still buried behind People , Claire produced a gift certificate to The Coffee Stop from her hoodie pocket and held it up.
    Her daughter was barely communicating, and behind that magazine hid a scowly face. Something had put Claire in a funk and Rachel could already guess what it was. The threat of braces, which had been looming on the horizon, had finally materialized. “It looks like several vanilla chaismoothies for you,” she said, using her unfazed mother voice. She stepped up to the reception window where Aaron's young receptionist Liz sat, smiling politely. Polite was the best Liz could give Rachel since the divorce. This hardly came as a surprise. Aaron would, of course, have posed as a long-suffering husband whose wife didn't understand him.
    She smiled back just as politely. “Hi, Liz. Can you tell Aaron I'm here?”
    â€œHe's finishing with a patient. I'll tell him.”
    Rachel nodded and sat down in a chair next to her daughter. She gave Claire a playful shoulder nudge. “So, are you reading about me?”
    Claire rolled her eyes. “Lame, Mom.”
    Ah, the love. If she hadn't been twelve, herself, once, she'd have been offended. “How did your checkup go?”
    Claire shrugged. “It sucked.”
    That said it all. “I'm sorry.”
    â€œI don't want braces.” The words came out, powered by misery. A hand went to Claire's eyes to swipe at fast-forming tears.
    â€œOh, baby,” said Rachel, putting an arm around her. “I know you don't.”
    â€œTell Daddy I don't want them,” Claire begged. “My teeth aren't that bad.”
    â€œI'll talk to him,” Rachel promised, more to make her daughter feel better than because she thought it would do any good. Braces were, after all, the American way.
    Claire nodded and wiped away more tears.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Rachel could see Aaron approaching. He was forty-four, tall and broad shouldered, with wavy dark hair salted with a hint of gray to make him look both distinguished and trustworthy. He was walking proof that looks were deceiving.
    â€œHow about you two go wait in the car?” she suggested to the children. “I'll be there in a minute.”
    â€œOkay. Bye, Dad,” called David, bouncing out of the room, completely clueless to the unfolding family drama.
    Claire stalked out after him without a word to her father.
    â€œShe's happy,” Rachel observed.
    â€œWe really need to get her into braces,” he said. “It's time. I can set up a consultation for you with Rencher for next week if you like.”
    Rachel was aware of Liz, sitting a few feet away from them, pretending to work. “Let's talk.” She took Aaron's arm and pulled him out the door onto the second-floor landing. “This is not good timing for me.”
    He frowned. “Rachel. This is our daughter.”
    She felt a sudden need to kick him in the shin. “I'm glad you used the word our. Does that mean you're going to take care of this expense?”
    His frown deepened. “Of course I'll pay my share.”
    â€œYour share always seems to be smaller than mine.”
    Now he stiffened and looked down his nose at her. “Is that so? Need I remind you who got the house?”
    â€œAnd all the bills to go with it,” she retorted sweetly.
    â€œBetween what you make and the hefty amount I give you …” he began.
    â€œHefty?” she said with a snort. “Oh, please.”
    â€œRachel, can we stick to the