In Stereo Where Available

To my husband, Mike, and all my kids, who put up with the many hours that went into this book; to the great people from the Internet Writing Workshop who helped me improve my craft, particularly Amanda Skjeveland and Meg Westley; to Michelle Perry and the group at Medallion Press who believed in my book; and to my mother, who read to me and rooted for me — I thank you all.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

I took a few kernels from the bowl of popcorn and slowly put them in my mouth, crunching delicately, my gaze fixed on the TV. The blonde with the microphone gestured soulfully to the smirking crowd, wet-eyed, the bronzing powder a little too heavy around her cleavage. Her strappy high heels glittered. The shoes were important. Your legs are only as good as your shoes. I glanced at my cell phone beside me on the sofa, checking once again to be sure I’d turned it on. The name across the bottom of my TV screen was “Grace Kassner.”

The note went flat and I quickly turned down the volume. Camera angles shifted; the judges winced, their pens tapping against the table. I hit the “mute” button and picked up my cell phone. Less than two minutes later, it rang.

“Hi, Madison.”

“Phoebe.” I could hear her sobbing, muted, as though she were pressing a tissue against her mouth. “I got eliminated.”

“I know. You were
great
, though. Those judges don’t know anything.”

“The one guy said I sounded like a seventh-grader doing karaoke at a sleepover party.”

“That guy says stuff like that to everyone.
I
heard you, Maddie. You sounded wonderful. And the crowd loved you.”

“Did they really?”

“They did. If they went by crowd response, you’d definitely have made it. That’s just one little show, it’s nothing. You’re just paying your dues. You’ll have your chance yet, and then you’ll be able to say you earned it.”

She sniffled. “You think?”

“Absolutely. Anyway, can you see the other girls?”

“No. I’m backstage.”

“Well, I’m watching it right now, and the girl who’s up there is a cow. She’s wearing this scarf shirt, totally trashy, and
flats
, Maddie. Flats.” I was speaking her language, for her sake. I didn’t like cutting people down, but Madison needed this. “Those judges are going to be so sorry they eliminated you. I can’t even turn the sound on. She sounds like those dolls that sing when you go through the ‘It’s a Small World’ ride at Disney World.”

Madison laughed in relief. “Thanks. Look, Mom’s trying to call through. I’ll be back in town tomorrow, okay? I’ll call you then.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

I set my cell phone down and sighed. Madison’s little white dog, Pepper, was sitting on my lap, nuzzling her nose down into the cushions in search of dropped popcorn. Clicking off the TV, I stared at the stack of uncorrected crayoned math papers in a file folder on my desk. Tomorrow was Friday; they needed to go home in the responsibility folders, along with the handwriting sheets beneath them. I scooted Pepper over and forced myself off the sofa, reaching for the folder from beside the computer. It knocked the mouse, making the aquarium-fish screen saver vanish. And in an instant, there it was. The e-mail.

“Read between the lines,” Madison had said when I had called her the day before, mystified. “He’s saying he wants to get rid of the relationship and keep the sex. You ought to dump his sleazy butt straight-out.”

“Really?” I’d asked, disappointed. I’d never even actually gotten that far with Bill. I’d hoped there was some kind of miracle thing that Madison would tell me to say, something that would get him over the hump and on toward producing a ring. I was twenty-nine, after all. It was about time.

“Really. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, because I’m your sister and I love you, but that’s exactly what he’s saying right there. When a man says ‘keep it casual,’ that only means one thing. Sorry, Fee.”

I minimized the window and took the folder of apple-printed math worksheets over to the sofa, curling my legs up beneath me. I’d kicked off the school year with an apple theme—apple stories for reading, apple crafts for art, apple graphs for science. If you cut an apple horizontally, the seeds flared out in a star. You could dry the halves with a napkin and make prints, pressing the smooth white sides into red tempera paint that oozed up around the edges. Three days into the school year and already a parent had written me a note saying I was encouraging devil worship, promoting the use of pentagrams like that. I had written a quick apology at the bottom and sent the note back home. A lot of teaching was about turning the other cheek. That was something I could do. I’ve always been better at that than my sister. She’s the competitive twin and I’m the sweet one, so says our mother. It’s better to have only one competitive twin. I realized that early in life, and I guess she didn’t. I’m also the smart one.

Madison called me the next afternoon, breathless and excited. Her phone was fading in and out, her voice mixed with the rush of the wind. She drove a Mercedes convertible—an old one, but still, it was a Mercedes.

“Guess what?” she asked. The wind crackled in her phone.

“I can barely hear you,” I warned her.

I heard the hum of her roof going up. “Guess what?” she asked again. “What?”

“I got a part! On another show!”

“You did? I didn’t even know you were auditioning.”

“I wasn’t. The woman came up to me about five minutes after I got off the phone with you yesterday and asked me if I wanted to be on their new reality show. She said I have exactly the qualities they’re looking for. Can you believe it? All this time driving back and forth to New York, and then out of nowhere—”

“Reality show? What kind of reality show?”

“Oh, I don’t know. They aren’t going to give away the plot. Something about a guy, you know, where you win the guy at the end.”

“Win the guy?” I asked, enunciating slowly. “Like he’s a washer-dryer?”

She laughed. “Better than a washer-dryer. Hey, I don’t have a boyfriend or anything. What do I have to lose?”

“You mean not including your self-respect?”

“Oh, phooey. Maybe it’ll be fate, who knows? Anyway, it’d be exposure. Maybe this will be my big break!”

I groaned. “Maddie…every radio DJ around here was cremating you this morning over the way you sang ‘America the Beautiful.’ Aren’t you even a little worried they’re casting you as…kind of a joke?”

“That’s fine,” she said blithely. “Then I’ll cash in on my fifteen minutes and show them what I’ve really got to offer. It’s all about timing, Fee.
Timing
. And connections. There’s no way I can pass this up. I’ve got to be on a plane for Georgia on Friday.”

“Georgia? Why Georgia?”

“Who knows? I’m just going to follow this rainbow and see where it takes me. What’s the worst that can happen, right? I end up with some crummy guy I don’t want and then I dump him. I’ve already done that a hundred times.” She laughed.

“I think you’re out of your mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Look, can you drive me to the airport on Friday afternoon? My flight doesn’t leave until seven. Say yes, Phoebe. I’m going to be gone for
three months
. Oh, and can you keep watching Pepper? I don’t know where else to stick her.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Great. I’m about to go through a tunnel, okay? Love ya. Bye-bye.”

“How was your date last night?”

My apartment-mate, Lauren, was sitting at our little dinette table with both hands wrapped around a cup of coffee as though it were a life preserver. She was still in her T-shirt and undies, didn’t even have her glasses on yet. I had to be in at work a lot earlier than she did. Lauren was a pharmaceutical rep and spent her days going around to doctors’ offices with samples and promotional products. She liked her job, and it came with a lot of freebies. Her coffee mug, for example, spelled out
PROZAC
in bold purple letters.