The Living Room Read Online Free Page A

job.”
    The history teacher’s husband had been out of work for nine months.
    “I’m glad he found a job but sorry she won’t be your teacher.”
    “The new teacher was in class today. Bethany and I think he’s going to be cool.”
    “A man?”
    “Yeah, he’s from somewhere out west, maybe California or Colorado. I’m not sure. After class I heard him talking to a couple of the guys about surfing and snowboarding. He has gorgeous blond hair and blue eyes to die for.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “Mr. Ryan. Bethany and I are going to get to class early tomorrow and grab seats up front.”
    “I just hope he can teach world history.” Amy scraped the tomatoes and cucumbers onto the top of the lettuce in a large white salad bowl. “Do you want a hard-boiled egg in your salad? Your dad and Ian won’t eat any, but I’ll be glad to—”
    “Are you really going to make me quit dance lessons?” Megan interrupted.
    Amy placed the salad bowl on the counter and gave Megan her full attention.
    “You’re a talented dancer, and I know how important dance is to you. The solo jazz routine you did last spring was fantastic. You received the only standing ovation in the entire program. But we’re going to have to discuss what to do about the future.”
    Amy braced herself for an explosion that didn’t come. Instead, Megan spoke slowly and calmly.
    “How would you feel if Dad told you that you had to quit writing books and go back to work because you’re not making as much money as you used to?”
    “Uh, we’d have to discuss that, too.”
    “Are you going to?”
    “We talk about everything.”
    Megan sniffed. Amy knew she wasn’t buying the claim that her parents had a perfect marriage communication model. It’s hard to bluff a fourteen-year-old girl.
    “You have your talent. I have mine,” Megan continued. “Is it fair for you to get to do what you want and I can’t?”
    Hurt welled up inside Amy. She’d sacrificed so much for her children that it stung to have her commitment questioned. The small amount of the recent royalty check made her feel especially vulnerable. But it wasn’t a time to show personal insecurity or wounded feelings.
    “I hear what you’re saying,” Amy replied, hoping her voice didn’t shake. “And I appreciate how much you’ve thought it out.”
    Ian came running into the kitchen.
    “Is supper ready?” he asked.
    Amy glanced at the timer on the oven.
    “Ten minutes. Where’s your dad?”
    “With I. He sent me in here to find out.”
    “With me,” Amy corrected.
    “I didn’t think it sounded right, but that’s not what you told me this afternoon.”
    Ian ran out, and Megan stood up.
    “I hate it when we talk in circles,” Megan said. “It makes me not want to come out of my room to try and have a conversation.”
    “I want to hear what you think,” Amy said. “And if we don’t talk, I’ll have to guess how you’re feeling. Let’s pray together before you go to sleep tonight.”
    Megan gave Amy a look that let her know she doubted God would take time out of his busy schedule to devote his attention to dance class. The nights when Amy and Megan would kneel beside Megan’s bed and pray were a fading memory. Now Amy wasn’t sure what her daughter believed.
    “Nothing will be done about dance until after Christmas,” Amy said quickly. “That’s when the price increase kicks in.”
    “Is that a promise?” Megan shot back.
    “Yes.”
    “Then tell Grandma and Grandpa Clarke and Granny Edwards all I want for Christmas is money for dance lessons.” Megan paused. “And from Uncle Bob and Aunt Pat, too. No gift cards to stores where I don’t shop or lame presents I have to pretend to like.”
    Megan left the kitchen with a lightness in her step. Amy leaned against the counter and tried to figure out how her daughter had so quickly outflanked her.

three
    L ater that night Amy and Jeff sat on the green-plaid couch in the family room. Spread out on a low table