Page 45 of Unspoken Tides

“I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”

The past few times Hilary spoke to Ingrid, Ingrid told her how tired she was. A girl her age shouldn’t be so tired all the time. She should be sleeping in on Saturdays. She should be painting her nails with her girlfriends. Hilary had to bite her tongue from telling her she needed her “beauty sleep.” That had been a constant refrain from Isabella Helin.

Hilary had decorated the breakfast table with flowers and covered it with platters of eggs, bacon, blueberry and chocolate chip pancakes, croissants, and mini donuts filled with cream. Ingrid gaped at it.

“Are you expecting more people?” Ingrid asked.

“It’s just us!”

Ingrid blinked. “This is a lot of food. Like, a lot.”

“Whatever we don’t eat, we can eat later.”

“Later?” Ingrid had all the snark of a teenager much older than twelve. She sat down across from Hilary and folded her hands on her lap. “Do you have coffee?”

Hilary hadn’t made coffee because Ingrid was twelve and too young for coffee. But the glint in Ingrid’s eyes told her that coffee was essential. When Hilary went into the kitchen to brew a pot, she noticed that the agent’s car remained in the driveway. The agent was in the front seat, texting furiously.

“You can tell Janice to go, honey,” Hilary said from the kitchen. “We don’t need her.”

All she wanted in the world was for that woman to drive away and never come back.

“She likes to wait for me,” Ingrid explained. “I’m her only client these days.”

Hilary returned to the table. “Only client? That’s impressive.” She tried to keep her voice bright. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve done so well for yourself, honey. Your grandmother would be so proud.” She placed her hand on her heart. “I’m so proud.”

Ingrid shifted on her chair and put her hands under her thighs. She couldn’t make eye contact.

“Why don’t you eat up? It’ll get cold.”

When Ingrid didn’t move, Hilary jumped forward and filled a plate with a pancake, some bacon, and an egg. She put the plate in front of Ingrid and then poured syrup over the pancake. Every second that passed, she thanked her lucky stars she hadn’t yet burst into tears.

And then, Ingrid said, “Mom, I can’t eat all this.”

“You’re almost a teenager, Ingrid. You can eat whatever you want. You’re still growing!”

Ingrid snorted.

“What?” Hilary asked.

“I’m just wondering what Janice would say if she heard you,” Ingrid said. “If I grow at all, I won’t be able to fit in the costumes they just fitted me for.”

Hilary’s heart sank. “You’re already starting another project?”

“Sure. I’m going to Greece next week.”

Hilary’s heart seized. She sat down across from Ingrid and squeezed her thighs. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ingrid picked up a fork, slid the tongs through the syrup, and licked it.

Hilary wanted to scream, take a bite! But she held her tongue.

“Um, I came here to tell you,” Ingrid went on, dropping her fork, “that you need to stop this whole custody battle thing. It isn’t good for my image. Janice says that image is everything. Pretty soon, we’re going to go after high school roles and stuff, and it’s bad if people still think of me as a kid. Like a kid who can be fought over. Does that make sense?”

A dull ache formed behind Hilary’s eye. A migraine was approaching.

Meekly, she said, “I just want to spend more time with you.” She felt just as she had as a young girl, yearning for more affection from Isabella. Time was a flat circle.

Ingrid raised her shoulders.

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