trees. It led past a 1920s theater, a string of outdoor restaurants, and small shops. It was Friday, and by nightfall Coconut Grove would be jammed. Kids would be cruising up and down, lines would form outside the multiplex, and tourists would wander through Gap and Ralph Lauren and Hooters, some spending incredible amounts of cash, others settling for a carved wooden parrot and a seven-dollar hamburger at Planet Hollywood.
After a while, Karen said, "Did you ever wish for something you can't have, but you wish for it anyway?"
Gail glanced at her, then back at the road. "I guess everyone has done that. What do you wish for?"
"Promise you won't get mad," Karen said.
"I swear."
"I wish we could all be together again. You and me and Daddy. That's mostly what I wish." The hat turned toward the passenger window. "I know it isn't going to happen."
Several seconds passed while Gail picked through words, choosing them carefully. "No. It won't happen. But that's not the important thing ... as long as we remember we're still a family. We have to try to care for each other."
"Do you care for Daddy?" The blue eyes were fixed on her.
Gail watched the road, then looked back at Karen. "I'm not . . . happy with him right now. You argue with your friends sometimes, don't you?"
Karen's look grew stern. "You're not friends. You hate him."
On a green light Gail waited for the pedestrians to clear so she could make the turn. "I don't hate him. We're both trying to do what's best for you, and it's hard to know what that is."
Karen turned away again.
"I love you very much." Gail hesitated, then said, "I love Anthony too. He adores you, Karen. He thinks you're great." A snort came through Karen's nose. Gail said, "Just try. For me? Please?"
"Okay."
Letting out her breath, Gail wheeled her car around the corner, then down a slight hill past the library and the grassy expanse of Peacock Park. The bay was just beyond, separated from the harbor by clusters of mangrove islands. Boats lay at anchor, and the sun sparkled on the water. The street took a left past an old sailing club Gail's family used to belong to before her father died. Gail had been thirteen.
For the first time it went through her mind to give in. If Karen wanted to live with Dave, then maybe it was for the best. He wouldn't put up a fight about visitation. He was basicallyâand Gail could still say tinsâa nice guy. According to Karen, he was perfect. He bought her a new Beanie Baby every time she came to see him, and she had her own TV. They had dinner early or late, as they pleased, and she could eat whatever she wanted. He saved the dishes for tomorrow, but the apartment was clean. He let her stay up late, but she got her rest. There was always a story at bedtime. She had lots of friends in the building. They played tennis. He took her out on boats. He was never in a bad mood. They had a great time.
Gail had met David Metzger at the University of Florida, probably attracted by the fit of his white tennis shorts. He had been a star on the team. Falling in love had not been a precipitous drop, as with Anthony, but a steady progress, and one day they found themselves engaged. After law school Gail took a job with a prestigious firm on Flagler Street. Dave managed a marine-supply store. When they were able, they bought a little marina, and he ran it. Not very well, unfortunately. She tried to help, but he resented her interference. He played tennis to fill his weekends, and she brought more and more work home. Until one day Dave said he wanted out.
They sold the business for only a few thousand more than they had paid for it. She took the house and Karen, and Dave took their forty-foot sloop, the Princess, and sailed away. For weeks she heard nothing, then postcards showed up in the mailbox with stamps from St. Thomas, Antigua, Grenada, Martinique, CuracaoâKaren charted his progress on a hurricane map. The cards came from resorts where he gave tennis lessons
After a while, Karen said, "Did you ever wish for something you can't have, but you wish for it anyway?"
Gail glanced at her, then back at the road. "I guess everyone has done that. What do you wish for?"
"Promise you won't get mad," Karen said.
"I swear."
"I wish we could all be together again. You and me and Daddy. That's mostly what I wish." The hat turned toward the passenger window. "I know it isn't going to happen."
Several seconds passed while Gail picked through words, choosing them carefully. "No. It won't happen. But that's not the important thing ... as long as we remember we're still a family. We have to try to care for each other."
"Do you care for Daddy?" The blue eyes were fixed on her.
Gail watched the road, then looked back at Karen. "I'm not . . . happy with him right now. You argue with your friends sometimes, don't you?"
Karen's look grew stern. "You're not friends. You hate him."
On a green light Gail waited for the pedestrians to clear so she could make the turn. "I don't hate him. We're both trying to do what's best for you, and it's hard to know what that is."
Karen turned away again.
"I love you very much." Gail hesitated, then said, "I love Anthony too. He adores you, Karen. He thinks you're great." A snort came through Karen's nose. Gail said, "Just try. For me? Please?"
"Okay."
Letting out her breath, Gail wheeled her car around the corner, then down a slight hill past the library and the grassy expanse of Peacock Park. The bay was just beyond, separated from the harbor by clusters of mangrove islands. Boats lay at anchor, and the sun sparkled on the water. The street took a left past an old sailing club Gail's family used to belong to before her father died. Gail had been thirteen.
For the first time it went through her mind to give in. If Karen wanted to live with Dave, then maybe it was for the best. He wouldn't put up a fight about visitation. He was basicallyâand Gail could still say tinsâa nice guy. According to Karen, he was perfect. He bought her a new Beanie Baby every time she came to see him, and she had her own TV. They had dinner early or late, as they pleased, and she could eat whatever she wanted. He saved the dishes for tomorrow, but the apartment was clean. He let her stay up late, but she got her rest. There was always a story at bedtime. She had lots of friends in the building. They played tennis. He took her out on boats. He was never in a bad mood. They had a great time.
Gail had met David Metzger at the University of Florida, probably attracted by the fit of his white tennis shorts. He had been a star on the team. Falling in love had not been a precipitous drop, as with Anthony, but a steady progress, and one day they found themselves engaged. After law school Gail took a job with a prestigious firm on Flagler Street. Dave managed a marine-supply store. When they were able, they bought a little marina, and he ran it. Not very well, unfortunately. She tried to help, but he resented her interference. He played tennis to fill his weekends, and she brought more and more work home. Until one day Dave said he wanted out.
They sold the business for only a few thousand more than they had paid for it. She took the house and Karen, and Dave took their forty-foot sloop, the Princess, and sailed away. For weeks she heard nothing, then postcards showed up in the mailbox with stamps from St. Thomas, Antigua, Grenada, Martinique, CuracaoâKaren charted his progress on a hurricane map. The cards came from resorts where he gave tennis lessons
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