An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

us. Also gave me instructions on where to go once we get there.” Emma laughed. “And he also sent someone out to find earplugs for us. I assured him we wouldn’t need them—it’s not like none of us has been to a concert before—but the thought was really sweet.”

Maggie nodded. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“Really sweet of him,” Liddy agreed. “But yeah. I’ve been to dozens of concerts in my time. I saw the Who a few years ago, and they were loud.”

Emma’s phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “It’s Chris . . . hi. Okay. Oh, terrific. Thank you!” She gave Liddy and Maggie a thumbs-up. “That’s so nice of you. I will. Thanks. See you soon.”

She held up the phone in a triumphant gesture. “We’re good to go for noon tomorrow.”

“Did he have to promise Nicole his firstborn?” Maggie asked.

“She extorted four tickets and backstage passes for tomorrow night, but he said no big deal. And he’s looking forward to seeing all three of us tonight.” Emma got up and went to the table and picked up the menus. “So how ’bout we look into a quick dinner. Something light, maybe. We’re getting picked up in about ninety minutes, and I’m going to need some of that time to get into my ‘rock star mom’ look.”

“What’s a rock star mom look like?” Liddy asked.

“We wear makeup and good jewelry.”

Liddy looked at Maggie and deadpanned, “She’s going to do it. She’s going to wear pearls with her concert tee.”

They pored over the menu before Emma called in their order. When she finished, she turned back to Liddy and Maggie and said, “So we need to decide where we want to have it.”

Maggie glanced at the table, then back to Emma. “I guess the dining table.”

Emma laughed. “Not dinner. I meant the tattoo. We should all have the same thing in the same place. Preferably someplace where it won’t sag.”

“Honey, sooner or later, everything’s going to sag,” Liddy pointed out.

“So we find some discreet place for this little tattoo where the sagging won’t be noticeable to anyone except ourselves,” Maggie said.

“What’s the point in having a tattoo if no one sees it?” Liddy asked.

“We’re not getting it for anyone else,” Emma said. “We’re getting it for ourselves.”

“Good point.” Maggie thought for a moment. “How ’bout between our shoulder blades? We’ll always know it’s there—whatever it turns out to be.”

Emma rose to answer the door. “I’d like to be able to see it. If it’s in the middle of my back, I’ll only be able to see it in a mirror, and what’s the fun of that?”

Room service wheeled in a cart laden with dishes hidden beneath shiny covers as the three women gathered at the table. In no time, the women had devoured their omelets and fruit salad, and after they’d finished, Emma passed out the T-shirts her son had sent for them.

The short-sleeve black cotton shirts bore Chris’s face front and center, with the members of his band behind him. DEAN was written in pale-blue cursive under the image. Maggie and Liddy both made a fuss over them before heading off to their rooms to change for the main event.

“I love that Chris had this shirt designed and made special for you, Em.” Maggie stood in front of a mirror and fluffed her hair after they’d regrouped in the sitting room. “Makes me feel like I’m twenty-one again and on my way to a Bruce Springsteen concert with a sorority sister from Hartford. Her aunt worked for the promoter and got us great seats.”

A bittersweet memory struck Maggie without warning, and she almost doubled up from the pain of it. She walked to the window and craned her neck, pretending to look for the limo while she tamped it back down. Brett had left for football camp in Ohio the week before, and she’d been crying on and off every day, even as she packed for her return to Pittsburgh for her senior year. He’d gone back early to get in some extra training, because word was there’d be several pro scouts at camp, and he’d wanted to make sure he was ready.

“This is for us,” he’d told her before getting into his car and driving off. “For our future. If I sign with a pro team, we’ll have it made.” He’d kissed her long and hard, then set off on the drive to Columbus, the car radio blasting, his fingers tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. She’d stood at the end of their driveway until the car disappeared down the road at the point where Cottage merged with Front Street.

“Where was that?” Emma asked.

Maggie snapped back to the present. “Sorry. Where was what?”

“The concert.”

“East Rutherford, New Jersey. The Brendan Byrne Arena. It was August and hot as blazes. Like, ninety-five degrees. We were on our way back to school and the air-conditioning in my old car died. The concert was amazing, though. One of the best ever. After it was over, we went out for burgers. Then, since I drove us to New Jersey, she drove the rest of the way to Pittsburgh that night. Made it to school in time for breakfast.”

The knock at the door saved her from sharing other memories.

“That must be our driver.” Emma’s eyes shone with excitement as she picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder. “Ready, girls?”

“Let’s do it.” Maggie went to the door and opened it. The same young woman who’d driven them from the airport stood in the hall.

“Lead on, Penelope.” Emma paused to lock the door behind them. “I’m so excited I can’t stand it.”

“You’ve seen Chris in concert before,” Liddy reminded her.

“Yes, but not with my two best friends.” Emma clutched their hands as they got into the elevator. “And I can’t wait to see my boy.”

“Her boy.” Liddy elbowed Maggie. “Her boy who will have thousands of women screaming his name in about ninety minutes. Tossing him condoms with their names on