Growing Up
Chapter 1
Sunday Afternoon
He had just taken an eraser to his notebook when Meredith strolled into the living room with a smile on her face.
"Daddy?" She rested her hands on the back of the sofa as she went up on her toes and peered over his shoulder.
"Sweetheart." He hadn't even bothered to glance up from the packet in his hand.
Blake watched them from the table near the windows, homework forgotten.
"I was thinking that we could go hit for a while before dinner."
His father looked up over the frames of his glasses before he turned so he could see Meredith's face.
"I'd love to Honey, but I've got to sort through these audits."
Blake knew an excuse when he heard one. His father had the authority to delegate whatever the hell he wanted to whoever the hell he wanted. Though, sometimes he was plain stubborn and wished to handle a matter himself. Their mother teased him that he worked too hard.
"I can play with you, Mer," he offered.
She shook her head. "I need someone who can return my serves."
"Do you want me to call Roger?" Their father eyed a report as he spoke. "We certainly pay him enough to take on an extra day of practice."
"I don't want a practice," she whispered.
Sundays were her only rest days. He could see now that she just wanted to have some fun, but today she only wanted to do so with one particular person.
Their mother appeared near the fireplace. "Did you eat well this morning, Sweetheart?" She stepped up behind his sister.
Meredith was having a hard time lately with food— taking on the stress of the junior year course load, preparing for the SATs, and touring colleges… Keeping up with her training on top of it all was pushing her over the edge. Their mom made it a point to sit with her at meals while she ate, especially on the weekends when she was home from school, but he knew, on days like today when she couldn't be here for breakfast and lunch, she worried.
"Yes." Her hands landed on Meredith's shoulders. "I ate breakfast with Blake."
She did.
"And I went out to lunch with Nikki."
Their mom smiled. "Good," she said as she pushed a strand of Meredith's hair behind her ear. "I can go to the Club with you for an hour or two if you'd like." She laughed. "I've gotten good at feeding."
"I— I'm actually tired. I think I'll just rest before dinner."
Blake knew an excuse when he heard one, and he knew that Meredith wasn't suddenly tired because their mom was a worse tennis player than she was a cook.
"Good." Mom kissed Meredith's head. "You have a big tournament next weekend. You need to be well-rested."
"I'll be in my room."
He looked back down at his notebook, trying to find the will to work out this algebra problem, but he pushed back his chair and followed his sister to her bedroom instead.
"Leave me alone, Blake."
He closed the door as she crossed the room to her desk.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying.
He'd been there too, disappointed that is.
"I just wanted to spend time with him," she said as she opened her laptop and began to type.
Dad was the one who'd gotten her into tennis in the first place. Now, he was just enough decent to give Meredith a light workout, but, before she had started in private lessons, he'd taught her everything he knew.
He played growing up with his own father. And their grandfather… Well, before he passed, he taught lessons to underprivileged kids. He was good, good enough to warrant a time or two at Wimbledon.
"How about ice cream?"
When she turned he held up a set of keys.
He wiggled his eyebrows. "I need to practice for my test."
She chewed her lip, deciding, and finally— "If you need the practice."
He smiled.