“Rachel—”
“No. She loved that hair. She cried when I trimmed half an inch.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me what happened!”
Linda slowly inhaled.
“There’s a concert at Emily’s school tomorrow night.”
I stared at her.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Go.”
“Linda—”
“Be there, Rachel. She’ll explain everything herself.”
I nearly laughed in disbelief.
“You’re seriously making me wait?”
“This time, just come.”
This time.
Those two words struck me harder than I expected.
Suddenly, I couldn’t remember the last school concert I had attended from beginning to end.
The spring recital?
The winter performance?
Had I really missed the winter concert two years ago because Melissa called at four in the afternoon?
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Do what?”
“Make this about me.”
“I’m not.”
Linda’s voice remained calm.
“I’m telling you where your daughter needs you to be.”
