But something about Sophie’s expression stayed with me. She looked embarrassed by the very thing her mother was so proud of.
For the next week, Vanessa talked about almost nothing except her new SUV.
She told me about the cameras, the heated steering wheel, the special paint coating, and the expensive interior protection package.
I teased her that she had started loving the car more than her own daughter.
Vanessa laughed.
“The car doesn’t leave granola bar wrappers everywhere.”
It was still friendly banter, or so I thought.
Then came Thursday morning.
I woke up to rain hammering against the windows so hard it sounded like handfuls of gravel being thrown at the house.
Emma came into the kitchen wearing her school uniform.
“Mom, the street is flooding!”
“It’s raining, honey.”
“You need to look outside.”
I pulled the curtain aside. Water rushed along the curb, and the wind bent the trees in our front yard.
