Sara placed the bowl of salad on the kitchen table and began to serve James. He made a face at the mounting pile of lettuce on his plate, but he’d learned that complaining only caused him to have to eat more vegetables.
“James, eat some salad first, then lasagna. And don’t make that face.” Sara began to serve Ruth, but Ruth took the bowl from her to serve herself.
It had been a week since her date with Harrison Thornton. When she’d come home with red eyes and tear-streaked makeup, Ruth had demanded that she tell her what had happened. Although Sara had assured her mother that she hadn’t cried over Harrison, Ruth hadn’t been particularly convinced.
It was ironic, really, that the parent that hadn’t even known about Sara’s ordeals in high school was suddenly trying to protect her as an ad
