“Yes, ma’am.” Carson sounded sober, but that only served to make Vivi angrier.
“The summer isn’t going to be like this, Carson,” Vivi said.
“I hope you’re right,” Carson said. “Work was slow, my tips were trash, the guys at the Box all looked like they were on the junior-high fencing team.”
“You can’t stay out all night then come home reeking of marijuana—”
“Reeking of marijuana,” Carson mimicked.
Vivi searched for extra patience, which was like trying to find a lost shoe in the depths of her maternal closet. This is Carson. Ten years earlier, when Vivi learned that her husband, JP, had fallen in love with his employee Amy, Vivi had moved out. All three kids took it hard, but especially Carson. Carson had been almost eleven years old and unusually attached to Vivi. Vivian’s novel that year, Along the South Shore, had been something of a breakout book, and Vivi, wanting to escape the inevitable divorce fallout—people asking what happened, people asking was she okay, people telling her she was brave—had gone on a twenty-nine-stop book tour that kept her away for seven weeks （she’d missed the first day of school and Carson’s birthday）。 By the time Vivi got back, Carson had changed from the funny little spitfire of the family to a “troubled child” who threw tantrums, swore, picked fights with her siblings, and generally did everything in her power to get attention. Vivi blamed the transformation on JP’s affair （which their therapist had insisted they not disclose to the children）， and JP blamed it on what he called Vivi’s “abandonment.”
Ten years had passed. Carson was no longer a little girl but she still had her challenging moments.
“This is my house,” Vivi said. “I pay the mortgage, the taxes, the insurance, the electric bill, the heating bill, the cable bill. I do the shopping and make the meals. While you’re sleeping under this roof, I don’t want you out all night drinking, smoking, and having sex with complete strangers. Do you know how that looks?” Vivi stopped just short of reminding Carson that she’d already had chlamydia once, the previous summer. “You’re setting a rotten example for your brother.”
“He doesn’t need me to set an example,” Carson said. “He has Willa. I’m the screwup. It’s my job to be a hideous disappointment.”
“No one said you were a hideous disappointment, sweetheart.”
“I’m twenty-one,” Carson said. “I can drink legally. I can smoke pot legally.”
“Since you’re so grown up,” Vivi said, “you can move out on your own.”
“That’s the plan,” Carson said. “I’m saving.”
You’re not saving, Vivi wanted to say. Carson made good tips at the Oystercatcher but she spent them—on drinks, on weed, on clothes from Erica Wilson, Milly and Grace, the Lovely. Carson had finally dropped out of UVM after struggling through five semesters—her cumulative GPA was a 1.6—and although Vivi was initially aghast （an education makes you good company for yourself!）， she knew college wasn’t for everyone.
“I’m not giving you a curfew,” Vivi said. “But this behavior won’t be tolerated.”
“This behavior won’t be tolerated,” Carson mimicked. It was the response of a seven-year-old, and yet it brought the reaction Carson wanted. Vivi took a step toward her, arm tensed. “Are you going to spank me?” Carson asked.
“Of course not,” Vivi said, though she kind of wanted to. “But you have to clean up your act, babe, or I’ll ask you to leave.”
“Fine,” Carson said. “I’ll go to Dad’s.”
“I’m sure Amy would take very kindly to you coming home like this.”
“She’s not as bad as you think,” Carson said. “When you demonize her, you show how insecure you are.”
Vivi stared at her child, but before she could come up with a response, she smelled something. “Did you…cook?” Vivi asked.
Carson stepped into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her.
Vivi flew down the stairs to the kitchen, which was filling with black smoke. The leftover sausage and basil pasta from last night’s dinner was in Vivi’s brand-new All-Clad three-quart sauté pan on a lit burner. The inside of the pan was charred black. Vivi turned the burner off, grabbed a towel, carried the smoldering pan outside, and set it on the flagstone path. It was so hot, it would have scorched the deck or the lawn.