Their third dinner in Hackensack. If they couldn’t live like rich New Yorkers, they could at least eat like them. Once in a while. Carmen blew on the steaming sauce before slurping a sample from the spoon. She kissed her fingertips. Perfecto . The oven timer dinged. Carmen pulled open the squeaky door and slid out the tray of garlic bread, the cheese brown and bubbly. “It’s ready, you guys.” Harper slid into the kitchen on her socks and skidded to a stop just before slamming into the countertop peninsula. “Mmm. Bread!” She reached for the least-brown piece. “Harper.” Carmen reached a plate under the bread to catch the cheese about to ooze to the floor. She placed a serving fork in the salad and tossed it with the Caesar dressing just as Mom came in. “I smelled it all the way in my room—hoped that’s what you made. This’ll be great.” She picked up a plate and served herself. Kimberley strolled into the room, bouncing her head to the tunes on her iPod. “Just salad for me. I’m watching my weight.” Hah. Little did she know, the Caesar salad with dressing, cheese, and croutons was about as bad as the full dinner. Kim added a hunk of cheesy garlic toast to her plate. “Uh, Kim. So much for watching your weight.” Kim shrugged and sashayed from the kitchen, right past Mom, to sit cross-legged on the couch—her Juicy sweats most likely riding too low in back like they always did. Harper sat on the floor near Kim and put her plate on the coffee table. She picked up the remote as she chewed her first bite. They would never have gotten away with skipping a family dinner at…home. Carmen glanced at Mom, eating alone at the dining-room table as she thumbed through the pages of her latest Mary Kay catalog. Sure didn’t look lonely or depressed. Fine. Carmen had no plans to stick around and force family togetherness if no one else wanted it. She grabbed her dinner and a Coke then went to her room. No one said a word to stop her. She shut the door and slid to the floor with her back against the edge of the bed, drew her knees up, and rested her plate on them. She forked a bite of cheesy eggplant and twisted it until the molten strands gave out. After letting it cool for a couple of seconds, she scraped the bite from the fork with her teeth. Ouch! She shuffled it around on her tongue and huffed air to cool it more. Delicious. Carmen didn’t need anyone else to confirm it for her to know the truth. Her pocket vibrated. She wiped her hands on the carpet and dug for her phone. A text message from Dad? T RAVELING . I ‘LL PICK U GUYS UP IN THE MORNING INSTEAD OF TONIGHT . What? Didn’t such a major change of plans at least warrant a phone call? Carmen touched and held the number F IVE button then pressed the phone to her ear. It rang one time. “You’ve reached Daniel Castillo…” Voice mail? But he’d sent a text message only seconds ago, so his phone must have been on. How could he send his own daughter straight to voice mail on purpose? And what’s worse, how could he miss the first night of the first weekend of visitation? “Kim!” Carmen shouted down the hall. “Did you get a text from Dad?” “Let me check,” Kim yelled back. “No. Why?” Great. He expected Carmen to do his dirty work.
Nate’s evening class ended at eight. What time was it anyway? Carmen touched the display on her phone to bring it to life. Nine o’clock already? He’d been out for an hour and hadn’t called or texted. What could he be doing? Was he avoiding her? Could she really blame him considering her attitude lately? She sure hadn’t been the picture of pleasantry during the past week since the move. Should she call him? Maybe he was staring at his phone wondering why she hadn’t called him. It wasn’t 1950; girls were allowed to call boys. Carmen pressed the number Two speed-dial button and waited for him to answer. “Hey. I was just thinking about you. You excited about tomorrow