In Your Room

For Alex

June

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

July

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

August

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

Acknowledgments

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Molly Hill closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to contain a sniffle.

“Need some tissue?” Celeste whispered, reaching into her purse.

Molly shook her head no. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry no matter how much she wanted to. She knew she was supposed to be happy for the bride and that she needed to put her own feelings aside. But she couldn’t. Not when this wedding meant that her life was about to change too. Not when it was her own mother up there at the altar, exchanging the “for better or for worses” and the “I dos.”

As the rabbi pronounced the couple husband and wife, Rina reached over and squeezed Molly’s hand, but it was too late. The tears had already started. Celeste took hold of her other hand and leaned in closer.

Laura had wanted Molly up there next to her under the chuppah, but there was no way Molly could handle trying to keep her emotions under
wraps in front of a roomful of people. It was much safer sitting in the front row, flanked on either side by her best friends.

She didn’t want to stand up there and ruin one of the most important days of her mother’s life. Besides, she had no real right to be upset. Her father had been dead for almost ten years, and Laura had pretty much sworn off dating until she met Ron six months before. She had devoted her life to Molly, so it only seemed fair that she now got another chance at love. So what if it had all happened so fast and Ron was this globe-trotting middle-aged environmentalist who’d never been married, and was the last person Molly had expected her mom to end up with? Who was she to judge when she only had a year left at home anyway before going off to college?

Only now, with Ron moving in permanently, a year was starting to feel like forever.

Molly pulled herself together and summoned the happiest smile she could muster as her mom and Ron walked past on their way back down the aisle. As soon as they were out of sight, she squeezed her way through the cluster of guests waiting in line to give their regards to the newlyweds and wandered out onto the empty terrace overlooking the Pacific. Molly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the water. They only lived about fifteen miles from the ocean, but it felt more like a hundred in Los Angeles traffic. She wasn’t much of a beach girl anyway.

“Take this,” Celeste insisted, appearing next to her. She handed Molly a glass of champagne.

“I’m okay,” Molly said, refusing the drink. “Seriously.”

“I don’t believe you, but this should definitely not go to waste,” Celeste said, taking a sip.

“I’m really proud of you,” Rina said, staring out at the view next to
Molly. “I know how hard this day is for you, and it’s really impressive that you’ve kept it from your mom, but you don’t have to hide it from us.”

Molly could always count on Celeste to lighten the mood and on Rina to say just the right thing to make her feel less alone. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” she said, wrapping an arm around each of them. “You have to promise to keep me busy this summer. I don’t know how much newlywed bliss I can handle.”

“I don’t think keeping you busy is gonna be a problem, Miss ‘I have the next ten years already scheduled,’” Celeste teased, nudging Molly.

“I’m not that bad! Aren’t you going to back me up?” Molly asked, turning to Rina.

“I think it’s great,” Rina said. “You know what you want, and you’re going after it.”

“Exactly. I’m just focused,” Molly said, addressing Celeste. “You’ll see—when I become a huge designer, you’re going to be begging me for free clothes.”

“Well, veering a little from the plan isn’t such a bad thing,” Celeste said, as Laura and Ron appeared on the terrace, which had already filled with the rest of the guests. “It worked out pretty well for your mom.”

It was easy for Celeste to say. She was always the type to leap before looking first, no matter the consequences. Molly figured she was like that because of her dad. He’d walked out on Celeste and her mom when Celeste was five and had been in and out of her life ever since. All of Celeste’s impulsive behavior was probably a play for his attention.

Molly had lost her dad too, but that was different. When he died, she knew he was never coming back. There was no confusion—and no one’s attention to compete for.

Once everyone had settled with their champagne and shrimp cocktail, Ron clinked his glass to quiet the crowd. Molly glanced around the room at the smiling guests with their eyes trained on the happy couple, and had the sinking feeling that things were only going to get worse. But then again, she never was one to trust her instincts.

Still having difficulty with the whole stepdad-ness of it all, Molly grabbed Celeste’s drink out of her hand. No matter that it was lipstick-stained and half empty. At that moment Molly was a glass-half-empty kind of girl.

“I would like to thank everyone for joining us here on this very special occasion,” Ron began. “As you all know, I have every reason to celebrate. I never thought I would find a woman as beautiful, loving, and compassionate as Laura. But I have another reason to be grateful. And her name is Molly. I have always wanted a daughter. I am so proud to call Molly mine. And now, to kick-start our family, Molly will be joining us on our honeymoon!”

“What?!” Molly yelped, louder and with less grace than she would have liked. Her stomach lurched into her throat.

“That’s right,” her mother joined in. “We’re all going to Boulder, Colorado, for the summer. Surprise! We’re doing a house swap.”

• • •

Charlie Richards gave his bike one last push. He rounded the corner onto his street and coasted the rest of the way to his house, turning his iPod up to full volume. His parents were paranoid about him listening to music when he was on his bike, and he usually kept it at a low volume so he could hear the traffic, but he drew the line at their quiet, tree-lined street. There was something about the surrounding mountains and the peaceful pocket of Boulder suburbia, something majestic that begged for a chorus. Besides,
he knew every driveway, doorway, and intersection like the back of his hand and could navigate the way blind. He did just that sometimes—closed his eyes—when the moment was right.

Summer was his favorite time of year in Boulder. Most people flooded the area in the winter months to ski or snowboard, which Charlie also loved, but the real magic was in the summer, when the area’s hidden beauty came out.

Charlie sailed up the driveway and in through the garage. He hoisted the bike over his shoulder and hung it on an empty hook next to a series of other bikes. To the layman, they were all the same, but to Charlie they each had their distinct purpose: thicker wheels for rougher terrain, thinner ones with lighter frames for greater speed, and so on. A row of women’s bikes dangled from the adjacent wall, including two identical child-size pink ones.

All the ski and snowboarding paraphernalia was in the back, half-obscured by boxes, in hibernation until the next snow.