A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [85]
When Lori got her driver’s license, Cici had promised to match dollar-for-dollar the money Lori had saved from her after-school job toward the purchase of a car. On her sixteenth birthday they had gone shopping for a used Honda, only to arrive home to find a brand-new sports car sitting in the driveway. Happy Birthday from Dad. Worse, Cici had had to be the one to tell Lori she could not keep the car. Lori had eventually forgiven her, but Cici had never forgiven Richard for once again making her the bad guy, and forcing her to ruin her daughter’s sixteenth birthday.
Richard sighed into the phone, managing to sound both impatient and sympathetic at the same time. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. I can’t make Lori want to spend Christmas with you.”
“No, but you can give her a better choice. Cancel the Aspen thing.”
He laughed.
“I’m not kidding, Richard. I need to see Lori, to talk to her. She needs to be with me, in the real world. You’ve got her so turned around and upside down out there she doesn’t even know who she is anymore.”
“She knows enough to realize she’ll have a lot more fun in Aspen with me than in the middle of nowhere with you. Sorry, babe. She’s made up her mind.”
Cici was quiet for a moment. “All right, you leave me no choice. Lori invited me to spend the holidays with her at your condo in Aspen. I’ll be there on the twenty-second.”
Now it was his turn for silence. “Not funny, babe.”
“Oh, and if you’re worried I might cramp your style—you know, all the hot-tub parties, the clubbing, the après-ski with Heather or Tiffany or Brittany—don’t give it another thought. I promise you to dedicate every waking moment to doing nothing but cramping your style. After all, what kind of man would invite his daughter on a Christmas ski vacation and expect to have anything but family time? Lucky for you, I’m going to make sure it’s all family, all the time, for you this Christmas.”
His voice was cold. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Her voice was colder. “You were married to me for four years, Richard. You want to rethink that?”
Silence. Then, quietly, “You had her for twenty Christmases, Cici. All I’m asking is one.”
Almost, she felt a stab of remorse. But this was their only child they were talking about, and her future was at stake. “Not this one,” she said firmly. “Call off Aspen. And not one word to her about this conversation.”
“You are a cast-iron bitch, you know that?”
“Thank you. I’m glad to know I’ve still got it.”
She hung up the phone, and was surprised to see her hands were shaking. But she had done the right thing. She was almost certain of it.
“I’m out of practice being mean,” Cici sighed, and held out her glass as she took her place in the rocking chair. “It’s not as much fun as it used to be.”
“The first of the merlot,” Lindsay announced, filling each of their glasses. “And I don’t see what’s mean about looking out for your daughter’s best interests. That’s your job.”
“I don’t like the person I turn into when I’m dealing with Richard.”
“It’s probably a good thing you divorced him then, huh?” said Bridget.
“If Richard had any balls at all, he’d drag that Professor Jeff out behind the science building and beat the shit out of him.” Lindsay sat down in her rocker and stretched out her legs.
“I don’t think you’re allowed to do that in California,” Bridget pointed out.
“I’m not sure blackmail is the best way to deal with a dispute over child-raising approaches,” Cici said unhappily.
“Darling, your child is already raised,” Lindsay said. “I think that’s the problem.”
And Cici agreed, “I think so, too.”
They were silent for a while, rocking.
“Umm, I love merlot in the autumn,” Bridget murmured, tasting it. She was bundled up in a thick chenille sweater, a mohair scarf, and a wool throw against the chill of the dying day, but none of them was willing to miss the last few rays of the brilliant sunset.
“To everything there is a season,” agreed Cici. “Chardonnay in the summer, merlot in the autumn, cabernet in the winter.”
“Hot chocolate