of the mall with a short layered bob and a new outfit.
She was in the bedroom looking at her purchases when Samantha and Jennifer breezed into the house at four o’clock.
“Hey, Mom,” Samantha called. “I’m home.”
Aimee walked down the hall to meet them.
“Hello, Mrs. Blake,” Jennifer said. “You look awesome.”
Aimee was pleased at Jennifer’s comment, since obviously Samantha hadn’t noticed. “I had a trim this afternoon. The hairdresser also shampooed and styled my hair, which always relaxes me.”
“That’s what my mom says. I fix my own hair unless I need color.”
Aimee compared Jennifer’s black, Gothic hairstyle with her daughter’s long, natural blond hair worn in a high ponytail. Aimee’s refusal to allow Samantha to wear her hair like Jennifer’s was another recent source of friction between them.
“Don’t you think your mother’s hair looks cool, Sam?”
With a careless shrug of her shoulders, Samantha said, “Kind of. It doesn’t look like you, Mom. Hey, I need snacks and drinks for the sleepover. You can fix me some stuff while I get my things ready. C’mon, Jen. Help me pack.”
Samantha seemed tense, as if she expected Aimee to stop her from going to the sleepover. Aimee was annoyed at her daughter’s demanding attitude. She could have at least said “please.” As she opened the refrigerator door, Aimee wondered what would happen if she did tell Samantha that she couldn’t go. Afraid that her daughter would go anyway, Aimee wasn’t ready to put her to the test.
As she scanned the refrigerator, Aimee knew she should have gone to the grocery store rather than the hairdresser. Well, it was too late now. She didn’t have time to buy groceries and be ready when Erica wanted to leave. She gathered some chips, cookies and pop and put them in a basket.
Samantha’s room was on the ground floor of their split-level home, and Aimee walked to the head of the stairs and called, “Your snacks are ready. You’re welcome.”
Her new clothes lay on the bed, but her daughter’s rotten attitude dimmed Aimee’s pleasure in the beige linen pants and jacket. She put on the loose-fitting pants, pulled a white cotton tee over her head and slipped into the buttonless jacket, which featured white trim on the cuffs and lapel. She searched in her jewelry box and chose a gold chain and matching earrings, a gift from Steve when they’d become engaged. She still missed him.
Glancing in the floor-length mirror, Aimee scrutinized her appearance. She looked okay, but she still wished she hadn’t agreed to go with Erica because she dreaded telling Samantha where she was going. When she heard the girls coming upstairs, Aimee walked into the hallway.
“I’ll be out for a few hours this evening.”
Samantha whirled around and looked at her mother. “Excuse me? Since when do you have somewhere to go on Friday night?” Her long hair was hanging loose now, and with a quick flip of her fingers, Samantha brushed it away from her face.
“Since I decided to go to a meeting with Erica.”
“What kind of meeting?”
Aimee definitely didn’t like her daughter’s attitude now. She should be quizzing Samantha about her evening activities, not the other way around. But she wouldn’t embarrass Samantha by reprimanding her in Jennifer’s presence. Still, she couldn’t tolerate this sort of behavior, and she would deal with it later. With a sinking heart, she wondered what Steve would think if he knew she had allowed their daughter to develop such a belligerent attitude.
As kindly as she could, Aimee said, “It really isn’t any of your business where I’m going.” Although her nerves were on edge, Aimee felt like laughing at the look of disbelief spreading across Samantha’s face.
“What is with you, Mom?” Samantha demanded.
“Nothing is with me. I have a right as an adult to have my own plans, but I don’t mind telling you where I’ll be,” Aimee said tensely. “However, it would have been nice if you’d asked me in a more civil tone. I’m going to a singles meeting at Erica’s church.”
“That’s cool!” Jennifer said. “Go for it, Mrs. B.”
But Aimee could tell by looking at her daughter that she didn’t think it was cool. Was it anger or fear she detected in Samantha’s eyes?
“You’re kidding, right?”
Aimee shook her head. “No. Erica invited me, and since you’re going to be away overnight, I couldn’t see any reason to spend the evening alone. What time will you be home tomorrow?”
“I don’t know,” Samantha said sullenly and picked up the basket of food.
Lifting her perfectly groomed eyebrows, Jennifer glanced sideways at her friend before she said, “I’ve got a dentist appointment at nine o’clock, Mrs. Blake. I’ll drop her off before then.”
Surprisingly, Jennifer was a polite, seemingly well-behaved girl, and Aimee wondered if she had been judging the older girl too harshly based on her looks. She blamed Jennifer for a lot of Samantha’s recent rebellious ways, but perhaps it was time to place the blame squarely on Samantha.
“Thanks,” Aimee said to Jennifer. “Have fun tonight,” she added.
Samantha didn’t answer, but Jennifer said, “That’s a cool outfit, Mrs. Blake. See ya tomorrow.”
Apparently Samantha hadn’t noticed what her mother had on. She turned and assessed Aimee’s new clothes suspiciously, casting another critical glance at her mother before she gave an impatient shrug and tossed her long blond hair defiantly. She left the house without a word and slammed the door behind her.
Aimee dropped into the lounge chair before the window in the family room and covered her face with her hands. She heard the chickadees and nuthatches at the feeder outside the window, but she didn’t look up. Watching the pretty little birds usually lifted her spirits, but not now when her mind reeled with confusion. Soon her confusion turned to anger—not only at Samantha but also at herself. For years she had catered to her daughter’s every whim, so what could she expect?
She clenched her jaw to stop the tears in her heart from reaching her eyes. She would address Samantha’s rebellion later, but she wouldn’t let this evening be ruined. She needed a night out. Later, when she heard Erica’s car horn, Aimee pasted a smile on her face and left the house.
“Well, don’t you look sharp!” Erica exclaimed when Aimee opened the car door and sat beside her. “That’s a beautiful suit.”
Aimee fastened her seat belt, and Erica pulled away from the sidewalk. “I haven’t bought any clothes for months, so I went shopping today,” Aimee said. “How do you like my hair?”
“Gorgeous! It takes years off of your age.” Erica eyed her sharply. “But your eyes are pink. Been crying?”
“You’re too observant,” Aimee answered with a sigh. “Samantha wasn’t happy when she heard where I was going.”
“So…” Erica persisted.
“So I’ve made up my mind to start cutting the apron strings, and I don’t mean to separate Samantha from me. She’s already done that,” Aimee said. “I’m beginning to cut myself loose from her.”
“It won’t be easy,” Erica said sympathetically. “But for your own good, as well as Samantha’s, it’s time. In only a few years, she’ll be off to college.”
“I hope so, but it’s hard. I feel like I haven’t been a good mom, or Samantha wouldn’t be so rebellious.”
“Oh, it isn’t you,” Erica assured her. “It’s part of growing up. Just keep praying for Samantha.”
“Yes, I intend to,” Aimee said, although her