READY OR NOT (CAMREN)

THIRTY

"Sweetheart, what do you think of the blue?" Lauren looked on as her mother held up a periwinkle blouse Lauren had utterly mixed feelings about.

"It's beautiful, Mom."

"They say periwinkle is this summer's peach. I don't know how I feel about peach."

"Do they say that?" Lauren asked absently. Her mother had invited her on a midday shopping excursion, which Lauren figured was just a guise for a little one-on-one time, a chance for them to talk for the first time about her parents' relationship. Turned out, not so much, as they were now legitimately shopping for her mother's summer wardrobe at Barney's. Shopping! Lauren's patience was wearing thin, as the one thing she didn't want to do on their shopping excursion was shop. Was that too much to ask?

"Lauren, why do you have that sour look on your face? It reminds me of when you were ten and found out that those stupid tennis shoes on the commercial didn't really make you fly."

She tried to brighten, but it was as if her smile muscles weren't working in some sort of smile-muscle betrayal typical to her life of late. Instead she blew out a breath and leveled with her mother, because honestly, why continue the girls'-day-out-shopping charade? "I thought maybe you'd invited me out to talk. About things...with you...and Dad...and the tennis coach."

"The divorce," her mother filled in.

"Right. The divorce. Are you still getting that? Because it would be great if maybe we all rethought that decision a moment. Maybe took five and found a way to Oprah this thing to a healthy place."

Her mother nodded solemnly and lifted a halfhearted hand in the direction of the nearby mannequin. "I always found that a little extracurricular shopping cured the most incurable of blues."

"Is that what this is?" Lauren asked, trying to piece the weird afternoon together. "An attempt to cheer me up via fashion distraction?" The wide-eyed look on her mother's face told Lauren that was exactly what was happening, and the concept softened her heart a tad. "Mom, you don't have to do that. If anything, I just want the chance to hear from you, to try and understand what went wrong with you and Dad. The whole thing was a blindside, and I pride myself on intuition. I guess it's kind of messed with my head a bit."

"Right. Okay. We should talk then and shop another day. Next Tuesday after work? We could invite your sister as long as you don't let her bully me into blazers. I don't do blazers in summer even if she thinks the rolled-up cuffs are chic. I think they're boxy and unflattering and won't tolerate it."

"Sure, Mom. Tuesday would be fine and nary a blazer shall be purchased."

Her mother returned the blouse to the rack in what seemed to be acquiescence. "Let's head to the café. They have the absolute best tiramisu, and I know how much you love tiramisu."

Lauren smiled because once when she was a kid, she'd offhandedly said something to that effect to her mother, who'd held on to the comment as gold ever since. She would forever be the child of theirs that adored tiramisu, even if she didn't love it. Then again, there were worse associations.

"I'd like that."

"Me too."

What Lauren hadn't been prepared for, however, was the sight of her father sitting at a table in the café when they arrived. He waved at them and stood, kissing her mother on the cheek and then a stunned Lauren. "Daddy? What are you doing here?"

Her mother gestured to him. "We thought it might be nice to talk to you together. I was planning for us to discuss matters. I just thought a little shopping first might be nice."