The Bark Before Christmas by Laurien Berenson Page B

me.”
    Kev was already gone. The toddler raced down the hall, rounded the banister, and began to scramble up the steps. Reluctantly Davey turned back to face me.
    â€œWhat?” he asked.
    â€œSomething’s the matter,” I said. “Tell me what it is.”
    â€œNothing.”
    â€œLike that’s going to work.” I waved him into a chair.
    For the first eight years of Davey’s life, it had been just him and me. Our relationship had always been close, not because it had to be, but because we truly enjoyed each other’s company. He and I had always been able to talk to each other. We’d shared the things that were bothering us.
    Now as he approached his teenage years, I could feel Davey pulling away. He’d grown reticent and he valued his privacy more. I knew that what I was experiencing was the natural progression of a mother/son relationship. It was time for Davey to begin testing his wings—and to push against the boundaries that I’d always set.
    But this disgruntlement sounded like something different. And I wanted to know what. I grabbed a seat across from him.
    â€œTalk to me,” I said.
    Davey frowned. Brown eyes, so much like his father’s, stared at me across the table. “What do you want me to say?”
    â€œI want to know what’s bugging you.”
    â€œIt’s nothing.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” I said. “Tell me what’s up.”
    â€œDon’t you have to go? I thought you wanted to get to the bazaar early.”
    â€œThe bazaar will wait.” I reached across and squeezed his hand. “Or it won’t. Either way, the world won’t come to an end. I always have time to talk to you.”
    â€œThat’s not what it seems like,” Davey mumbled.
    Aha, I thought. Now we were getting somewhere.
    â€œDoes that mean you weren’t happy when I went back to work?” I asked.
    â€œNo. It’s not that. You always worked.”
    Yes, I had. As a single mother, I’d had no choice. When Davey was young, I had been employed as a special ed teacher at his own elementary school. Later I’d taken the job at Howard Academy. Davey had never seemed to mind my job before.
    â€œSo what is it then?”
    â€œKids talk,” Davey said. He was still frowning.
    â€œYour friends, you mean?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWhat do they talk about?”
    â€œAbout your school. You know, Howard Academy. About how all the kids who go there are stuck-up snobs with fancy cars and their own Lear jets.”
    â€œLear jets?” I echoed faintly.
    â€œAnd yachts, too.”
    â€œYachts,” I repeated. My son probably thought I sounded like a parrot.
    â€œThat’s right,” he said defensively. “Isn’t it?”
    â€œSome of the kids at Howard Academy do come from families with lots of money,” I told him. “But not all of them. And having that money doesn’t mean that they live perfect lives, or that they’re happy all the time. In fact many of those kids have the same kinds of problems that you and your friends do.”
    Davey looked up. “A mom who’s always getting into trouble?”
    I choked on an unexpected laugh. “Okay, maybe not that problem. But some of them come from broken homes. Or have absentee parents. Or have parents who would rather give them stuff than sit down and spend time with them.”
    â€œThat last part doesn’t sound so bad to me.”
    I was pretty sure he was teasing. At least I hoped he was.
    I wished I was sitting next to Davey so that I could wrap my arms around him. Even though I knew he’d protest.
    â€œThink about it this way,” I said. “Remember how happy you were last year when you got Augie?”
    â€œYeah, sure.”
    â€œThat was a big thrill for you, wasn’t it?”
    Davey nodded.
    â€œSome of the kids at Howard Academy will never feel that kind of excitement. When you