Soaring (Magdalene #2)(89)
Author: Kristen Ashley

“Hey, kiddo,” I called. “You want breakfast?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he replied, wandering my way, still looking sleepy. Half boy. Half man. All my son. “Waffles?” he requested as he came to a stop at the end of the counter.

“Sure,” I replied, straightened away from my laptop and turned to the kitchen.

It was Sunday morning.

Our Saturday had been just as good, if not better, than our Friday night.

I met Polly and her mother, Sherry, when they came over to get a tour of Cliff Blue.

I liked Sherry unreservedly. She was what I was learning most of Magdalene was. Nice, open and friendly. We got along immediately.

I wished I could say the same about Polly.

She was a pretty little thing, not as pretty as my daughter, but still very attractive.

She also had an air about her that put me on edge.

Conceited. Snooty.

And the way I grew up, I could call conceited and snooty from twenty paces.

Further, it was clear she was queen bee and my daughter was her minion. She didn’t overtly treat Pippa as such, but it was communicated anyway.

Olympia might like her, but I suspected Polly held some position at school that Pippa wanted to be close to and so she was serving her queen.

I felt badly about thinking this about Polly, especially considering Sherry was so lovely. I was also troubled about witnessing this from Pippa.

These feelings didn’t get any better when Auden interacted with the girls, openly reluctant to be in the presence of Polly in a way that he was clearly trying to hide his aversion to her.

During their visit, we all decided to go out to lunch, with Auden deciding not to join us (this being because he was a teenage boy, not because he didn’t like Polly). He hooked up with his friends, and I enjoyed spending time with Sherry but, alas, this time with Polly only cemented my opinion of her.

For one, she was openly catty about the people around us (mostly the females, their hair, outfits, anything she could note and say something mean about). Sherry attempted to curtail this but didn’t put a lot of effort into that, probably because she didn’t want to embarrass her daughter by remonstrating her in front of her friend and her friend’s mom.

And further, Polly was almost entirely negative about absolutely everything; the food, the temperature of the restaurant, the service.

After we parted ways, I decided it was too soon in my reparation efforts to broach this subject with my daughter, so I didn’t.

I didn’t do this also with the hope that she’d sort herself out. She was a good kid. A smart one. She had good friends back in La Jolla, they were close, had been friends a long time and they were all great kids. She’d been in Magdalene awhile, but she still was in a new place finding her way, and now, doing that her first year of high school.

I just had to trust she’d find the right way.

We came back, had a family dinner and I let them go out with their friends last night.

I got a knock on the door when Pippa got home, through which she’d called, “Mom! I’m back!” and I’d replied, “Good. Hope you had fun!” to which she said, “I did! Goodnight.”

Auden didn’t knock on my door but I stayed up until he got home.

Now, it was morning and, except for Polly, the weekend had been a smashing success and I was still flying.

“What’s this?” Auden asked.

I turned from getting the pancake batter mix down and saw him looking at my laptop.

“Just some research I’m doing on a possible fundraiser I’m thinking about,” I told him.

That was the truth.

However, the specifics included me attempting to find what I thought should be easy to find, though I’d never looked for such things. They were still public records. These being the town of Magdalene’s financial accounts.

I didn’t know what was driving me or if I’d make any sense of what I found when I found it.

I still wanted to know what they allocated to the fire department.

The town was clean. There were flowers decorating Cross Street and the boardwalk. The 4th of July decorations had been effusive but attractive. The roads were nice. There was a small police station that resembled the fire station in its age, size and quaintness. They had an extensive recycling program.

But there was also money in that town. Coastal properties that I knew from experience cost a good deal. Shops that were not inexpensive in the slightest that stayed in business because someone was patronizing them regularly. Very nice restaurants.

Everyone paid taxes and with property tax alone, there had to be money in the coffers for more than flowers, holiday decorations, decent roads (which might not be the town’s responsibility at all but the county’s or the even the state’s), recycling and street sweeping.

“It was cool what you did for those kid boxers.”

My thoughts about the town’s finances flew out the window as my eyes shot to my son.

His voice was strange.

Not sleepy.

Regretful.

When I caught his eyes, I saw that tone reflected in them and felt my heart squeeze.

Auden went on, “My friend Joe and his little brother are both in that league, though Joe’s in the young adult portion. But Joe’s family isn’t rolling in it. They can’t afford gloves and shorts and all the other stuff they need. Same as wrestling, I guess, it not being fun to put on sweaty headgear a hundred other guys have used before you, even if it is cleaned.”

I looked to my son feeling a great deal but saying nothing.

“Joe was freaking ecstatic you raised all that money. He’s into that. Boxing. Been in that league for five years. Says this year, because of that money, it’ll be the best one yet.”

“Well, now I’m happier I did it than I was before,” I replied.

“It was cool,” he repeated softly.

Instead of weeping, I gave him a gentle smile.

“Been a dick,” he whispered.

Our conversation had turned to a place I did not want my son to go.

My nose started stinging and I whispered back, “Auden. Don’t.”

“Thinking on it, you had your reasons,” he said.

“I did,” I agreed. “But I should have shielded you from it.”

“I guess,” he muttered unconvincingly.

I slid closer to him and stated, “We’re all moving on. That’s done. Behind us. Now is now. And now is good. So let’s stick in the now, honey.”

His head tipped to the side, his gaze evading mine, and it looked like he wanted to say something but he didn’t say it.