think? What’s the harm in just seeing?”
“Dating neighbors is tricky. What if it doesn’t work out and then we’re stuck living across the
street from each other?”
“That’s a tiny inconsequential risk compared to what could be gained. If it doesn’t work out, you
wave politely when you see each other and then you keep on walking. No big deal. And I know I’m
biased, but my dad is really worth it. He’s the best.”
“Oh, I know it. I see you girls and I think, God, any man who could raise those girls is something
special. I’ve never seen a man so devoted to his family. You three are the pearls in his crown, you
know? And that’s how it should be. A girl’s relationship with her father is the most important male
relationship of her life.”
“What about a girl’s relationship with her mother?”
Ms. Rothschild tilts her head, contemplating. “Yeah, I would say a girl’s relationship with her
mom is the most important female relationship. Her mom or her sisters. You’re lucky to have two of
them. I know you know this already, better than most people, but your parents won’t always be there.
If it happens the way it’s supposed to, they’ll go first. But your sisters are yours for life.”
“Do you have one?”
She nods, a hint of a smile forming on her tanned face. “I have a big sister. Jeanie. We didn’t get
along as well as you girls do, but as we get older, she looks more and more like our mom. And so
when I’m missing my mom a lot, I go visit Jeanie and I get to see my mom’s face again.” She wrinkles
her nose. “Does that sound creepy?”
“No. I think it sounds... lovely.” I hesitate. “Sometimes when I hear Margot’s voice—like, she’s
downstairs, and she calls us down to hurry up and get in the car, or she says that dinner’s ready—
sometimes she sounds so much like my mom, it tricks me. Just for a second.” Tears spring to my eyes.
Ms. Rothschild has tears in her eyes too. “I don’t think a girl ever gets over losing her mom. I’m an
adult and it’s completely normal and expected for my mom to be dead, but I still feel orphaned
sometimes.” She smiles at me. “But that’s just inescapable, right? When you lose someone and it still
hurts, that’s when you know the love was real.”
I wipe my eyes. With Peter and me, was the love real? Because it does still hurt, it does. But
maybe that’s just part of it. Sniffling, I ask, “So, just to make sure, if my dad asks you out, you’ll say
yes?”
She roars with laughter, then claps her hand over her mouth when Kitty stirs on the couch. “Now I
see where Kitty gets it from.”
“Trina, you didn’t answer the question.”
“The answer is yes.”
I smile to myself. Yes.
By the time I wash off all my makeup and get into my pajamas, it’s nearly three in the morning. I’m not
tired, though. What I really want to do is talk to Margot, go over every single detail of the night.
Scotland is five hours ahead, which means it’s almost eight a.m. over there. She’s an early riser, so I
figure it’s worth a shot.
I catch her as she’s getting ready to go have breakfast. She sets her computer on her dresser so we
can talk as she puts on sunscreen and mascara and lip balm.