I'm sorry for the delay. Lots of real life stuff going on. Your patience is appreciated as always. I was going to have Cory and Shawn going to see Topanga in this chapter, but Angela and her mother talked a lot more than I thought they would (and we all know how easy it is for me to shorten things, lol) so they got bumped to the next chapter. We will also see Morgan, Amy, Alan...more characters in general and a little more fun.

Thanks for your feedback to the previous chapter. :-)

"A lot was going on at that time. I was in-between jobs, I had auditions all across the country: Los Angeles, New York, Detroit, Atlanta, Chicago, Seattle, Nashville…I was trying anywhere I could to get back into music. I didn't know what kind of job I'd even get. What if I'd landed a backup singing gig on a tour? It's not exactly the most stable environment for a child."

"And the military is," Angela fired back. "Come on, I don't know if I ever met another kid who moved as much as I had to."

"A big reason your father joined the military was that he knew it was his ticket to travel and see the world. Once you came along, he wanted you to be exposed to as many different people, places, and cultures as possible. He wanted you to have all of the opportunities he didn't have as a child." She twisted her engagement and wedding rings around her finger. "I felt the same. Neither of us grew up in wealthy families that got to do the big summer vacations where every year you saw a different place. Our summers were spent on our respective blocks playing with our friends, maybe visiting grandparents for a week or two. I share his belief that the more of the world a person is exposed to, the better, but I had no idea what that would entail when we first got together.

"I knew marrying someone in the military meant traveling, but your father took it to an extreme and volunteered for every transfer he could get. I didn't realize until a few years later that we were moving more frequently than what's typical." While Camille found it hard to make friends with other army wives, they were good sources of small talk and gossip…and a baby-sitter in a pinch. They were the ones who told her that her travel lifestyle was a lot even for the military. "Tell me, have you finally hit every continent?"

"I've been everywhere but Antarctica."

"How was South America?"

"Hot," she deadpanned.

"Angela-"

"I asked why you didn't take me with you and you asked me about South America? I'm not playing these games. You said you'd answer my questions, but you obviously don't mean it."

"I do, but-"

"But what?"

"You want a simple, Sesame Street level answer to explain a complex situation."

"No, you're dancing around the subject. You said music didn't provide a stable enough lifestyle by bouncing you around and then proved that we were bounced around by the army even more. Your story doesn't add up. Which just proves you're not giving me reasons, you're giving excuses."

"I don't-"

"Was forever the plan? Just tell me that. After you dropped me off at school and-and drove away…" She paused when she caught herself playing with the clasp of Eric's leather bracelet. Her mother played with her jewelry when she was nervous. She didn't want to share any traits with her mother, even a nervous one. "…did you plan to never see me again?"

"No. It was only going to be a few months and once I got settled someplace your father and I were going to arrange a time for me to visit and we would talk to you together about what was going on. We were going to make a plan for custody and visitation. We hoped to do it without lawyers and courts involved."

"Then what happened?"

"I got a job singing backup on a tour and-and…I guess after a certain point I was afraid it had been too long. I was afraid of what you might say. I must've picked up the phone about a million times to call you. The day I finally worked up the nerve, the number was disconnected because your dad was transferred again."

"Germany," Angela said. "We moved to Germany the year after you left."

"Did you like it?"

She shrugged. "It was different. Dad said we both needed different. I was too young to realize I could argue- not that it would've done me any good- But he promised we'd stay someplace for a few years, and we did. I could tell he was going stir crazy, but he kept his promise."

"Where did you go after Germany?"

"We were in South Korea for a while. After that, he was transferred back to the States in Fort Dix. Then I wound up back here with Nan because he had an assignment overseas and I couldn't go with him."

"You've lived quite the adventurous life. I hope you write a book about it one day. I'll be first in line to buy a copy."

"You never answered my question," Angela said, ignoring her mother's empty praise. "What kept you away?"

"Your father, after I had to push back our meetings a couple of times because of work he made it clear I was no longer welcome in your life."

"Excuse me?"

"He gave me an ultimatum; I couldn't be just half in your life. You needed to be able to depend on someone. He didn't want me to make promises and then have to back out." Camille thought it ironic now given Alvin's continuous promises to both her and Angela to retire, but that was neither here nor there. "You needed a mother who would be there."

"Why not fight him? Fight for me? Didn't you think I was worth it?"

"Of course you were- are- worth it, but my life was such a mess and I didn't feel like I had much leverage to try and argue. We finalized the divorce and set up child support payments."

"You paid child support?"

"Until you turned eighteen last year summer, yes."

She made a mental note to ask her dad about all of this later. There was too much going on in her brain to dwell on it now. "Did you cheat on dad?"

"What?! No! Your father and I may have had our issues, but infidelity was never one of those things." Camille got up from the chair and paced around the porch. "How could you even think that?"

"Well, let's see, your son's eight and there's not a lot of time to have a relationship and go through a pregnancy based on when you left."

"I didn't cheat on your father, no. Spencer was…Spencer was a surprise." She picked at a loose thread on her cut-offs. "I wasn't in a good place mentally when I got pregnant. I was trying to adjust to being single again and whether you believe it or not I missed you liked crazy. It tore me up to be away from my baby girl. Plus, I had to find work to support myself. The music industry is a struggle unless you're in the top few percent."

"I know you tried to drag out the divorce and stick dad with the responsibility of your kid."

"That's not what happened! I was overwhelmed. Finding out I was pregnant while going through a divorce was challenging. I didn't realize he'd be on the hook financially if we were still legally married until the lawyers mentioned it. Sure, maybe for a few moments the idea appealed to me," she admitted, sheepishly. "Not out of any malice or gold-digging, but because I knew my son deserved a good father. And when the army lets him be around, your father is an excellent one."

"But eventually your husband stepped up and you guys have your Hallmark card-worthy family."

"Byron isn't Spencer's father."

"He's not?"

She shook her head. "I met Byron when Spencer was one. Spencer's biological father was a drummer. I met him after I got the touring job. I sang and occasionally filled in on keyboards with the opening act and he was with the headliner. He promised to talk to his manager, bump me up in the tour, and make my dreams come true. The second I told him I was pregnant he acted like he never knew me. It was as if I was some groupie after his money." Camille tapped her nails on the railing, her immaculate French manicure a sharp contrast against the rusted wrought iron of her childhood home. "Never trust a drummer."

"Weren't you too old to fall for those cheap lines he fed you?"

"I was chasing my dream. I was desperate. Spencer doesn't know Byron's not his father. I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything."

"Let's forget for a second that I'd never do that to someone, let alone a kid, but I doubt I'll ever be in the same room as your kids again, so-"

"You don't want to know your brother and sister?"

"They're not my brother and sister. They're your kids. As far as I'm concerned, I'm an only child."

"Angela-"

"I'm an only child."

"They're here in Philadelphia. I told them they could see the house again before it's sold and pick out something that belonged to their grandmother."

"Just tell me when so I can make sure not to be here."

"They want to meet you. Mercy thought she did something wrong when you ran out of the funeral home."

"She did steal my sweater, so-"

"She's five."

"Perfect time to learn not to steal."

"I didn't realize it meant so much to you. I never would've let her wear it if I knew."

"Whatever," Angela huffed. While she felt bad a kid's feelings got hurt, she didn't see how the event was in any way her fault. "No offense, but I don't want to talk about your kids. They have nothing to do with me."

"They have everything to do with you. You're their big sister."

"No."

"Angela-"

"How about after your life was settled," she asked, attempting to get the conversation back on track.

"What?"

"Why didn't you try to get some kind of visitation or custody once you had a steady job and things were more certain?"

"I kept tabs on you. Your nan always told me how you were."

"Wow, that's just like having my mother right there."

"I was scared. I'm still scared. You have every reason to hate me. My father walked out when I was a baby. I have no memory of him. I've always said if we were ever face to face, I'd have to stop myself from gouging his eyes out for the pain he caused my mother." She shook her head. "So, you see, I know exactly how you feel. The kicker is I became the monster I hated."

Angela wanted to scream. She didn't know if her mother was incapable of giving a simple answer or if one just didn't exist. It was infuriating for nearly all of her excuses to end with her somehow being a victim. The worst part was she didn't seem to have any regrets. She had her kids, her husband, her music…everything she ever wanted. "Our situations are not the same. Your father was never more than an idea for you…a few pictures and stories. I had you until I was nine. We were together every day and then you were just gone, vanished into thin air." She focused on the dragon's head on Eric's bracelet again, anything to distract from the churning emotions ready to burst out of her. "I used to want to be you. My favorite thing in the world was when it was the two of us at the piano playing dad the songs you taught me."

"You always picked them up so quickly. Do you still play?"

"No."

"Oh, so you decided to focus on songwriting? Nan and Aunt Lois told me you love poetry and writing."

"I don't have anything to do with music. I haven't since you left."

"Why? You were so talented. You have a real aptitude for music."

"Music is you. Most of my memories of you are wrapped up in music. It hurt too much to keep it up. It took me a long time to even want to listen to the radio or my Walkman again."

"Angela-"

"Dad made sure I stayed engaged in writing, but…" She shook her head. "…music is gone."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You had such a gift."

"That's the thing you're sorry for," she asked, incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Of course that's not all I'm sorry about. I'm sorry about how it all played out, but what do you want from me? I told you why things happened the way they did and it's still not enough for you."

Any vestige of control Angela had left slipped away. "You left me! You just dropped me off at school one day and I never saw you again. Nothing will make that better. Nothing is ever going to be enough. If you're hoping for absolution you'd better find a church because I don't have forgiveness to spare for you."

Camille nodded. "I understand."

"You don't, but whatever." She got up and moved to the other end of the porch, needing physical distance from her mother. "I used to want to be you. Now there's nothing that scares me more. I'm going to do everything in my power to not be you."

"For what it's worth, I'm sure when the time comes, you will be an excellent mother and will have no problems letting your partner know when you're not happy or don't feel appreciated. You're already so poised and self-confident. I wasn't at your age."

Angela didn't even want to think about kids or marriage. She wasn't sure she was cut out for any of the more traditional trappings of life. "Yeah, losing your mom makes you grow up fast."

"I don't-"

"What did Nan say when you pulled all this crap," she interrupted, not wanting to hear any more of her mother's lame attempts at a defense.

"We didn't speak for a long time because of how disappointed in me she was. I broke her heart for what I did to you."

"What made her start talking to you again?"

"My divorce from your father was finalized, I was heavily pregnant, and had nobody. I showed up here, on her doorstep, in tears. I begged her to forgive me. And being the gracious woman that she was, she took me in and helped me get back on my feet. I don't think she ever forgave me though, because things were never the same between us."

"Good."

Camille was surprised, but then again not, by her daughter's response. "I was sorry to hear you two fell out of touch."

"I found out she saw you when I spent the weekend at a friend's house. I…I didn't know she saw you still, at least not here. She knew the main reason I came here instead of going to live in Nevada with Aunt Gloria was because I thought it was my best chance to see you again."

Alvin's sister Gloria had never been her biggest fan. The feeling was mutual. Neither woman could pinpoint a reason. Their personalities just didn't mesh. They had been relatives, never family. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Would it have changed anything if you did?" A car pulled up in front of the house and it was all she could do to not cry in relief. "Finally."

"I'm so sorry," Lois called out as she made her way to the house. "I told Uncle Manny a million times to put the spare in his car, but did he listen?" When she reached the top of the stairs she paused, struck by the palpable tension in the air. "Is everything okay," she asked, directing the question at her great-niece.

"Fine."

"Actually," Camille said, "I think we need a few more minutes."

Angela shook her head. "No, we don't. We're done."

/

/

"Next!"

Eric scanned the menu while he waited in line, trying to decide if he wanted to go with one of his usuals or to try something different. The food here was good and cheap, which was a plus. The downside was that meant it was almost always busy. He'd been in line for several minutes already and there were still four people ahead of him. The lines on either side of him seemed to be moving, which was just his luck. He wanted to get to Angela's. Spending all this time with her mother seemed to be sucking the joy out of her and he wanted to be there if she needed a distraction or even backup.

"Hey."

He turned towards the voice and saw Shawn standing in the line to his right. "Oh. Hi."

"Getting food?"

"No," he deadpanned, "I'm here for the pony rides."

Shawn rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Look since we're going to be stuck here for the next few minutes, I might as well tell you in case you need to do some damage control."

"What are you talking about?"

"Cory's planning something stupid."

"And?"

"He's going to see Topanga this weekend." He gave Eric the footnotes of Cory's plan. "I think he's almost convinced himself she's coming home with us."

"Oh, man."

"Right. I don't think it's gonna go that well. So, you should probably be prepared for him to be all spun out when we get back."

Eric nodded. "Great."

He shoved his hands in his pockets and debated asking his next question, but figured he had nothing to lose. "How's Angela doing with her mom and everything? She must've been pretty freaked out if she came to talk to me."

"She did? When?"

"The night before last. She was pounding on my door at two in the morning; scared the crap out of me, too. She didn't tell you," he asked after a beat or two of silence.

After all their talks and conversations, all the times he's tried to be there for her and understand what's going on, she goes to Shawn? Was he doing something wrong? Was he still trying to "fix" things? Did Angela not trust him?

"Hey, you all right, man?"

Shawn smacking his shoulder brought Eric back to reality. "What? Oh, no, yeah, of course she mentioned it. I-I just forgot. It's been a crazy week. I thought summer school sucked in high school, but it has nothing on college classes." He turned his attention back to the menu, studying it as if he'd be quizzed on the specials later.

"So," Shawn prodded, "how's she doing?"

"She's…you know…she's in survival mode right now." Even as he answered Eric wondered if he was correct. Was there more Angela wasn't telling him? Were there things he wasn't seeing- things she wasn't letting him see? Did she not feel comfortable telling him what she was feeling? Did he do something to make her feel that way? Is that why she went to Shawn?

That sounded about right to him. "Yeah, I get it."

He did get it and that killed Eric. It's not that he believed any connection between Shawn and Angela ended when their relationship did, he knew better than that. He just didn't understand the logic in seeking out someone who's badly hurt you in the past. Eric wasn't jealous. He wasn't. He just wanted to be there for Angela the same way she's been there for him and he finally thought she had opened up completely.

"Next!"

"Finally," Shawn said, sighing in relief. "So, I guess I'll see you around. Just be ready for a Cory disaster."

"Is there any other kind of Cory situation?"

"Not lately, no."

/

/

Indifference, it turned out, was the key. Angela found it much easier to be around her mother and go through Nan's things if she acted like her presence didn't matter to her in the slightest. Not only did it use up less energy, but it also had the bonus of getting under her mother's skin. The petty part of her enjoyed that. Still, she couldn't wait until she was done with the woman for good. For the moment she'd take her indifference driving her mother to work clearing out another room. "Wow," Angela marveled when she opened a drawer. "How could one person own so many pairs of pantyhose?"

"More," Lois asked in disbelief. "I just found a box in the closet."

She shook her head. "Most of these are unopened, too. There's got to be twenty pairs in here."

"Your grandmother was an excellent coupon-cutter and scoured sales. We grew up poor and that creates an impulse to hoard the basics and necessities. Things got better for her when your mother was older as her career advanced, but it was rough."

"Do you hoard things?"

"I never leave a restaurant without sugar packets or other condiments. And my freezer always has a loaf or two of bread so we never run out. There are always extra non-perishables around for the same reason. That feeling of fear that everything will be gone or you won't have enough never fully leaves you."

"That makes sense with food stuff. But pantyhose, since when are they a necessity?"

"She wore them to church every Sunday. And no matter our circumstances, come Sunday mornings, she'd make sure she looked impeccable. Certain church ladies can be the most brutal creatures on the face of the earth. God forbid your Nan be seen in her Sunday best with a run in her nylons. They'd have shunned her to the back pews and while setting up a prayer chain to present a good face to the rest of the congregation."

Angela remembered all the Sunday mornings her grandmother would wake her up and try to get her to go to church. Most of the time she refused and said she was more spiritual than religious and claimed she didn't need to be trapped in a building to worship. Would it have killed her to sit through a couple of hours on Sundays?

"What's going on in that smart brain of yours, honey," Lois asked after her great-niece had been quiet a little too long.

She shook her head. "I was just thinking of all the Sundays she tried to get me out of bed to go to church with you guys. I could've done it. Maybe not every week, but once or twice a month: enough to make her happy."

"You didn't have to do anything special to make her happy. You being you, going to college and chasing your dreams- that made her happy."

"It still doesn't make up for me practically ignoring her for the last year of her life, holding some stupid grudge because she talked to her daughter."

"Your grandmother loved you, Angela. She loved you and was so proud of you. It didn't matter what the state of your relationship was. She knew why you were holding back. She understood you were protecting yourself. She cut back on contact with your mother after you moved in, but didn't stop completely because of Spencer and Mercy. She adored all her grandbabies. She hated that she never got to spend time with the three of you together, but she blamed your mother for that."

"If this is your way to try and guilt me into being in those kids' lives-"

"What? No, that is completely your call." Lois sat down on the bed. "Why? Is Camille pressuring you?"

"I don't know if I'd call it pressure, but she's strongly suggested it."

"I'll talk to her if you want, nip that in the bud now."

"It's fine. I can fight my own battles."

"You don't always have to, is what I'm saying."

"Thanks," she said, smiling at her aunt, "but I got it." Angela moved onto the next drawer. "What do we do with her makeup? Throw it away, right?"

"No charity is going to want used makeup."

"Right." She looked over the collection as she put it in a box. "Nan had glitter eyeshadow?"

"She only wore it on dates or nights out with friends, but-"

Angela's eyes went wide. "Nan dated?!"

Lois laughed. "Your grandmother wasn't just your grandmother. She had a full life."

"I know that, but the woman I saw had to cut back at work because the arthritis in her hands made it difficult to do her job. She couldn't crochet as much for the same reason. Some days she shuffled more than walked."

"She had her bad days, but she didn't let it stop her from living."

"I get that, it's just hard to- ah!" Angela pushed the chair back away from the dresser. "You can finish in here. I'll stick to something safe, like the hall closet or something."

"What's wrong?"

"I could've gone the rest of my life not knowing Nan had a book about sex after sixty."

"You mean books."

"What?"

"Books," she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing. "There were a couple in her nightstand I found earlier when I was cleaning it out."

She made a face. "I don't need to know about anything else that was in there."

"Just take this as a lesson that just because you hit a certain age that doesn't mean you stop living an active, vital life."

"Gross."

"Everything okay in here," Camille asked, sticking her head into the room.

"We found Nan's sex books."

"Gross."

Lois rolled her eyes. "You two…"

"Angela, your boyfriend is here."

She practically smiled in relief. Today had dragged on and on it seemed like Eric would never show up.

"I had him wait on the porch," she continued.

"Why?"

"We are dealing with a family situation here and he's not family."

Angela stood in front of her mother, arms crossed. "He's more family to me than you are. Hell, his family is closer to me than you. Do you know where I spent Mother's day this year?"

"No."

"With Eric's mother, just the two of us, because Eric had to work and his dad took his brothers and sister to visit their grandma." She'd leave out the fact that she was driven there by her mom's phone call and grief over Nan. Not to mention that she inadvertently crashed Amy's planned weekend of solitude. "We made snickerdoodles, watched movies, and ordered takeout." The tears in her mother's eyes weren't as satisfying as she thought they'd be. "It was the perfect day."

"Go take a break, honey," Lois interrupted, not surprised when the young woman raced out of the room. "Don't," she said when Camille was about to speak.

"Can you believe what she said?"

"Yes, I can."

"Excuse me?"

"Camille, honey, I love you, but boy do you make it difficult sometimes." She picked up a box and picked up where Angela left off, getting rid of old makeup. "You don't get to be offended by the daughter you left behind. It doesn't work that way."

"So I should've stayed with Alvin, unhappy in a marriage where promises were broken and my needs weren't being met?"

"This isn't about divorce. People understand divorce. It happens. Abandoning your child on the other hand-"

"I never meant to-"

"It doesn't matter what you meant to do. All that matters now is what happened. And what happened was that that little girl went almost ten years thinking her mother didn't give a damn because you provided no evidence to the contrary. Do you not realize the long-term damage you've caused her?"

"What do you want me to do? I've tried talking and apologizing, but she won't give me a chance."

"You didn't break a glass. You broke her heart. It's not an easy fix. Dare I say it might not be fixable."

Camille took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I need to get out of here for a few minutes."

"Where are you going?"

"Somewhere that's not here."

/

Eric wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at Angela's: yelling, crying, Angela with her mother in a headlock? Anything was possible in his mind. Instead, he was banished to the porch by her mother and then minutes later Angela practically dragged him up to her bedroom. When she pushed him towards the bed he didn't know where things were headed, but it seemed all she wanted was for them to lie together in silence. A tiny part of him wondered if she'd be talking if Shawn were here instead of him, but he tried to shut that voice up. Eric wasn't sure if he should even mention he knew talked. A few minutes later they heard screeching tires and sat up in time to see Camille's little blue car driving off. "So I'm going to take a risk and ask your favorite question: how are you?"

Angela held onto him and laid her head on his chest. "I want to scream and cry and get into your car and drive away and never look back."

"Cool, let's go. Wait…I'm invited, right?"

"Always."

"Awesome. In this fantasy of yours' can I have a car without a hole in the floor in the back?"

"Oh, no, when did that happen?"

"I was leaving school today and dropped my bag in the back and it didn't stop until it hit the concrete."

She ran her hands through his hair. "Poor you."

"I was hoping to hold off a little longer before I had to get a new one, but Lucille can't hang on much longer." He sighed. "I'll try looking around junkyards and impound lots first. Sometimes people dump what just needs a little work. I can-" Eric stopped talking when he realized he'd completely bulldozed her problems with his. "Sorry, we were talking about your mom."

"I'd rather talk about Lucille."

"That bad?"

"I was talking to Aunt Lois earlier and I asked about Nan's car," she said as if he didn't mention her mother at all. "I wasn't sure if she planned to sell it or give it to one of her kids or grandchildren…whatever. She thought I was asking for me and said I could keep it, but I thought you might be interested."

"You want me to take your grandmother's-"

"I know it's not flashy or exciting," she continued, "but Nan didn't put a lot of miles on it. It's in good shape. You've driven it a few times." She sat up on her knees and looked at him. "It's reliable. It's got airbags and starts with a key."

Eric was torn. A 1987 Volvo wasn't his dream car. Hell, he wasn't sure it would rank as anyone's dream car. But it was, as his dad would say, a solid mode of transportation. At least it wasn't a station wagon. And if the floor was falling out of his Lucille now, there's no way she'd make the road trip, let alone survive another Philly winter. "How much is she asking?"

"Honestly, she'd probably just sign the title right over to you as a favor to me."

"No, I can't do that. I have to pay something."

"You can talk to her and come to an agreement you both think is fair."

"Would it be Aunt Lois or your mom?"

"Huh?"

"It's your mom, right? Technically she's your grandmother's next of kin."

"I don't know. Aunt Lois has been the one taking charge."

"It's okay. I'll figure it out." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. "Thanks for thinking of me."

"Yeah."

"Are you mad at me for bringing up your mom?"

"No, I just want her to go home. She can go back to her real family and real kids and leave me alone."

"Did you get a chance to talk to her and ask her questions?"

"She's not sorry," Angela exclaimed. "I don't think she'd change a damn thing about her life now because at least she has her stupid music career."

"Did she say that?"

"What does it matter? It was all excuses. She blamed everyone and everything but herself. In her mind, she's a victim, too."

"How does that work? Don't get me wrong, it sucks that she and your dad got divorced, but-"

"-but it happens. That I get. I understand why she wanted a divorce," Angela admitted. As much as she hated to agree with her mother on anything, they shared similar frustrations over her dad's devotion to the military despite countless promises to retire.

"But never seeing your kid again isn't right."

She shrugged. "She never knew her father. That justifies everything for her."

"What?"

"Oh, didn't you know? Apparently, there's no age limit for taking responsibility for your own life and not blaming your parents."

"So if I'm still screwing up at forty, I can blame mom and dad?"

"You're not a screw-up," she said, glaring at him. "I'll remind you every day until you're forty if I have to."

"You promise?"

"Of course."

"I'll do the same for you. You'd never turn your back on your family and disappear. You're never going to be your mom."

"What about my dad," Angela asked quietly. She'd been thinking a lot about what her mother's said about her dad and what happened back then. He didn't want her to be a part-time mom, coming in and out of her life. But wasn't he a part-time parent: part-time father, part-time husband, full-time soldier? Wasn't it hypocritical of him to try and turn it around on his ex-wife? "Am I like him instead?"

"What do you mean?" She didn't say anything. When he looked down at her she appeared lost in thought. "Angela?"

She jumped. "Huh?"

"What were you saying about your dad?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She sat up placed a quick kiss on his lips. "I think this stuff with my mom is messing with my head and making me second guess things I never did before."

"Give him a call. You always feel better after you talk to him."

Angela nodded. "Maybe later. You brought the food, right? I haven't eaten at all today and I'm starving."

"The yummy smelling bag on your desk," he said, pointing across the room. "Do you want me to get it?"

"Thanks, but I can do it." She got up and retrieved the bag. "How were your classes?"

"Okay. Intense. I'm nervous about my algebra final. I think I'm good in the other classes, but algebra is a toss-up."

"You're going to do great."

"I may need to devote every free moment next week to studying."

"We'll survive."

"Will you help me?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

"Will you set up another round of strip studying?"

She rolled her eyes when he smirked. "If you play your cards right." Just then Nan's books flashed through her mind. "Ugh."

"What's wrong? Did I order the wrong food?"

"No, the food's good, it's just…Nan."

"What about her?"

"I was cleaning out her vanity and found a…uh…a…a sex book."

Eric coughed, trying not to choke on his food. "Say what?"

"Yeah, about sex after sixty. It was under her glitter eye shadow and nylons."

"Glitter eyeshadow, too? Go, granny."

She smacked his arm. "Eric!"

"What? She was single and dated. Don't you plan to still be having sex in your sixties, if not longer? It's a noble goal. Sex is a lot of fun. I know you think so, too."

"So you're telling me you'd be fine if you found that book in either Nana Boo Boo's or Grandma Bernice's bedrooms?"

His smile quickly disappeared. "Why are you being so mean to me after I was nice and brought you food?"

"Payback."

"I'm sorry. Let's be friends again?"

"Okay."

"Although…it makes you wonder."

"What?"

"Why are there books? Do old people forget how to do it or something?"