Sugar Beth remembered Winnie trying to make herself invisible as she walked down the school hallways. “Because you don’t like them, or because you’re afraid the other kids will make fun of you if you do?”
Gigi waited too long to respond. “Because I don’t like them.”
“Do you want real power or not?” Even as she asked the question, Sugar Beth wondered how she could pretend to have an answer.
“Oh, yes,” Gigi said with a wistful sigh. And then her face clouded. “You’re going to tell me to study, aren’t you? And be nice to Gwen and Jenny.”
“Respecting other people and trying to understand how they feel about the world gives you power.” Sugar Beth hoped that was true. “It also makes you kinder. And people are drawn to kindness. That doesn’t mean you forget to stand up for yourself. But you don’t do it by trampling on other people, unless they need to be trampled on, in which case you do it in an up-front manner, with no snotty remarks about being fat.”
Gigi slouched into her chair and looked sullen.
Sugar Beth rolled the Coke can between her palms. She unconsciously waited for the click of her wedding ring, but she’d made herself take it off last month. Gigi gazed up at her. She was going to be a real beauty before long, but Sugar Beth hoped with all her heart it didn’t happen too soon. Beauty at too young an age got in the way of developing character.
She drew a deep, unsteady breath and tried to think of how to say what Gigi needed to hear. “Maybe it’s time you came up with a plan for your life. A really ambitious plan. Without holding back. Even if it means deciding to be president of the United States. Your plan will probably change as you get older, but that might be even better, because, while you’re preparing yourself for one goal, you’ll be learning things that help you meet another goal. That’s what real power means—not spending your time being bitchy because you’re worrying about what somebody might be saying behind your back.” She was shocked by the rush of anger that hit her. Why couldn’t Diddie have said something like this when Sugar Beth was thirteen? But her mother had been incapable of thinking beyond the boundaries of her own narrow vision.
Sugar Beth leaned back in the chair and dredged up what she hadn’t, until that moment, realized she understood. “People will always try to steal your power. When you do well, they’ll say it’s only because you’re rich and your parents are big shots. People who care about you will try to steal your power, too, but they’ll go about it differently. When you fail at something, they’ll try to make you feel better by saying that nobody’s good at everything, and you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. They might tell you not to feel bad about screwing up a math test because math’s hard for girls. Or they’ll say you shouldn’t worry so much about injustice in the world because you’re only one person. And even though they mean well, they’ll be making you less than what you can be.” Her chest felt tight, and she tried to ease it with another breath. “One way to grab your power is to learn when you need to step up to the plate and admit you’re wrong, and when you need to dig in your heels because it’s the right thing to do.”
“How do you tell the difference?”
Sugar Beth shrugged. “Figuring that out is what life’s all about.”
“Have you? Figured it out?”
Only a thirteen-year-old could ask such a question. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
Gigi nodded, as if she were thinking it all over, then planted her elbow on the table. “Let’s talk about sex now.”
Sugar Beth had no intention of being dragged into that discussion, but she welcomed the change of subject. “Coffee’s ready.” She hopped up from the table.
“I mean, how do you know when you’re ready to have sex?”
She thought about the rumpled sheets upstairs. “Unless this is a pressing issue, which I sincerely hope it’s not, why don’t we postpone that discussion for another time?”
“Okay.” Gigi’s satisfied smile made Sugar Beth suspect she’d been manipulated into agreeing to another visit. “Could we do makeup now?”
“Why not?”
Sugar Beth’s headache eased as they experimented with the contents of her cosmetic case. They talked about avoiding mascara smudges, obtaining power, setting goals. Sometimes Sugar Beth felt like a hypocrite, but not always, and as she contoured Gigi’s eyelids, she wondered if she’d acquired at least a smattering of wisdom to pass on to the next generation.
Gigi said her parents were due back around four, and a little before three-thirty, she reluctantly headed to the door. “You don’t have to come with me,” she said as Sugar Beth followed her outside, leaving an unhappy Gordon behind. “I’m not a baby.”
“And you’re not climbing up that railing unless I’m there to make sure you get to the top.”
“Like that’s a big challenge.”
“Sarcasm steals your personal power.”
“You’re sarcastic.”
“Which is how I know this.”
Gigi giggled.
Sugar Beth smiled at her. “We’re all works in progress, honey. And believe me when I tell you that I’ve had to work harder than most.”
“I think you’ve done a good job.”
Sugar Beth shouldn’t have felt so good about winning the approval of a thirteen-year-old, but she did.
As they neared the Galantine house, she ducked into the strip of woods at the side so she could watch Gigi climb the rail. Before she made it to the top, she started to goof around, leaning back and waving her arms and legs, deliberately trying to give Sugar Beth a heart attack and not doing a bad job of it. Sugar Beth forced herself to spoil the fun by turning away.
A branch cracked. Something moved in the woods in front of her, and Ryan stepped out of the trees.
He looked as shocked to see her as she was to see him and no happier about it. He was dressed in a navy sports coat, light blue dress shirt, and muted tie, an outfit she couldn’t imagine anyone, except maybe Colin, wearing for a walk in the woods. “Sugar Beth? What—”
His head jerked as he caught sight of Gigi doing her acrobatics on the balcony post. “Gigi!” He rushed toward the house. “Get down from there right now!”
Gigi grabbed the post. Even from across the yard, Sugar Beth could see that she looked stricken. In a rush of memory, Sugar Beth recalled too well what a father’s disapproval felt like. Gigi inched down the railing, moving as slowly as she dared, but not slowly enough for her father’s anger to cool because the moment her feet hit the ground, he grabbed her arm and gave her a little shake. Sugar Beth instinctively rushed forward, but by the time she’d reached them, he’d let her go.
“What are you doing outside? And where have you been? Your mother and I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I took a walk,” Gigi said stubbornly. “You weren’t supposed to be back yet.”
“We left the reception early, and you were told not to leave the house.”
“I was suffocating,” she cried, with all the drama of a soap star.
Ryan turned back to Sugar Beth, his expression hard. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I don’t ever want you around my daughter again.”
It shouldn’t have hurt so badly, but this was Ryan, and they’d watched Scooby-Doo together.
“Sugar Beth didn’t do anything!” Gigi exclaimed. “I ran into her while I was walking. It was an accident. We didn’t even talk. I don’t even know her.”
It had been a long time since anybody had tried to protect her, and Sugar Beth was touched. She gave Gigi a wry smile. “I’m afraid the jig’s up.”
“No, it’s not! It’s—”
“Ryan?” Winnie rushed around from the front of the house. Like her husband, she was dressed up, but her hair was windblown, her expression tense. “Ryan, what—” She froze. Her gaze flew from her daughter to Sugar Beth, then to her husband.
“Get inside right now,” he snapped at Gigi.
In the kind of blatant miscalculation only a thirteen-year-old could make, she turned mulish. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ryan’s face flushed with anger, and Sugar Beth took a quick step forward. “Gigi . . .”