Something in the Way (Something in the Way 1)

The front door opened, and Tiffany breezed into the house with paper shopping bags on each arm. “Manning will be here any minute. Is dinner ready?”

“We were afraid you might not make it.” Mom pulled off her oven mitts. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

“Of course not.” Tiffany set the bags on the kitchen table, disrupting a pile of silverware. She pulled out a package. “I got the cutest outfit.” She unwrapped white tissue and held up a short leopard print tube dress. “It’s like what Drew Barrymore wears in the Guess? ad.”

“Oh, that’s darling.” Mom always said stuff like that when Tiffany went shopping. The dress was too skimpy for Mom, but she and Tiffany shared clothes a lot. “It’s not too dressy for tonight?”

Tiffany shoved it all back in the bag. “We’ll probably go somewhere after.”

“Well, wear something over it during dinner. Your dad won’t like that it’s so revealing.”

“Duh. I’m not an amateur,” she said.

“I know, honey,” Mom said as she went to the sink to wash her hands. “Your sister and I have been working on dinner for an hour. Will you set the table?”

Tiffany grabbed her bags. “Mom. I have exactly five minutes to transform myself.”

“Then why’d you wait until the last minute?” I pointed out.

Tiffany stuck out her tongue. “Did you get wine?” she asked Mom. “He might want some with dinner.”

“I got wine.” Mom wiped her hands on her apron. “He can have one glass. No more if he’s taking you out afterward.”

Tiffany flurried out of the kitchen the same way she’d come in, a tornado of crinkling paper bags and blonde hair. Would he really take her out tonight? If so, where would they go? It would be late when dinner ended. Too late for me to go with them, if I’d even be invited. Tiffany and her friends hung out until after midnight on the weekends. They had ways of getting alcohol. It was Thursday, but life was one big weekend to Tiffany. She had no job to get to in the morning, but Manning did. Didn’t that mean anything?

I was straightening my tomatoes when the doorbell rang. My heart stopped.

Mom showed me her oven-mitted hands. “Can you get that, honey?”

I went through the house and stood at the front door, listening. Tiffany was still upstairs getting ready, and Dad was in his study. It was just me and Manning, and that wouldn’t be the case for long. It seemed unfair that even though I’d seen him first, even though he was my friend, I had to savor my time with Manning before it was stolen.

I opened the door to Manning standing on the top step in jeans and a black, collared button-down he wore open over a white t-shirt. He’d shaved and gelled his hair back. I’d half expected him to show up in his work boots, but I thought he might even be wearing cologne.

I held onto the door handle until my hand began to sweat. Manning’s dark eyes mostly stayed on my face, except for the second they flashed down, all the way to my ankles. Maybe men had some kind of radar for freshly shaven legs.

“Hi,” I said. Dumb. I wanted to tell him how nice he looked.

A cricket chirped out front as Manning white-knuckled a bouquet of pink tulips. “You look different.”

I straightened my shoulders a bit and tried not to smile. “So do you.”

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“A little.” I pointed my foot, showing him my leg. “I got a tan.”

He didn’t look. I moved aside so he could duck into the entryway. One of his tennis shoes could easily crush both my bare feet. I was nearly eye-level with the flowers. It was a good guess—my mom loved tulips.

“I hope you like steak? We should’ve checked with you first.”

“I’ll eat most anything. But yes, Tiffany already asked.”

That meant they’d spoken since the fair on Saturday. When? It shouldn’t have surprised me. Of course, she’d had to tell him when to be here, and maybe she’d also mentioned the tulips. It occurred to me that they might’ve even seen each other.

“She called,” Manning said, catching my eye. “Just about dinner and timing and stuff. That’s all.”

“Oh.” We both looked up when we heard footfalls upstairs. Finally, I closed the front door. “Come meet my mom. My dad’ll be out in a second. He usually works in his office until dinner starts.” I showed Manning into the kitchen.

Mom turned around, smiled widely, and came to us. “It’s so nice to meet you, Manning.”

“You too, Mrs. Kaplan.” He held out the flowers, but she went past them for a hug. He bent down to make it easier but was otherwise stiff. “These are for you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” She took the bouquet. Mom had twisted her hair back from her face, and as she inhaled, a few strands fell forward. “My favorite. Thank you.”