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R.J.."
    "Was probably inevitable.   Surprised you didn't do it sooner," said Will, in between bites of food.
    Annabeth blushed and looked down at her plate like a child caught in a misdeed.   She knew her father's views on R.J.   "No, we're just temporarily separated.   I'm sure it will all work out."
    "Seems like misplaced optimism to me.   Nothing ever works out right with R.J..   I should look around at work and find you another guy.   Of course I already tried that once and you gave him away."
    "Honey-pie!" said Ginger in her exaggerated way, "Women nowadays don't look for a new man when they get divorced.   They get a career first.   Annabeth will go back to school.   Or get a job.   She can go work in the law office with you."
    "What?" said Will, clearly alarmed.
    "You type, don't you honey?"
    "No, not really."   No wonder her father was so appalled about the idea of her working at his firm.   She was without skills and he knew it.
    "Typing isn't everything.   You can start a business of your own.   Remember that business you and Maggie talked about?   I bet there's lots that you can do."
    "Maggie wanted that, not me.   All I've ever done is be a wife and mother."
    "Nothing wrong with that, if you have the right guy," said Will.
    "Honey-pie!   That's our generation, not Annabeth's.   She should already have a career.   Women her age need independence and fulfillment."
    "People start planning for retirement at her age, they don't go to school or begin a career."
    "Yes, I'm really not qualified for anything," said Annabeth, her voice trailing off.   "I'd expected grandchildren and traveling now…."
    "Grandchildren are a blessing, but hardly a career.   Maybe you could start a travel agency since you like travel."
    "She's never been anywhere, Ginger.   Good lord!   You're giving me a headache with all this nonsense," said Will, sounding gruffer and making Annabeth feel even smaller and more useless.
    "Divorce isn't such a bad thing, you know.   It's how I met your father."
    "I know."
    As Ginger launched once again into the story about how she'd met Will Copeland, Annabeth chewed her food miserably, pretended to listen, and nodded at the appropriate places.   They hadn't noticed her hair either.   Was it so little a difference?   Maybe she needed to make more changes, buy some new clothes.
    "Dessert?" interrupted Will.
    "How about some nice, non-fat frozen yogurt?" replied Ginger.
    "I hate that stuff.   Think I'll go play with my computer, leave you gals to your girl talk."
    "Come on in the bedroom and let me show you the new clothes that need hems."
    Annabeth followed her stepmother into the bedroom.   How strange it was, after all these years, after the room had been redone, the furniture replaced, the walls repainted, that Annabeth could feel her mother still there in that room.   This was a sensation that came over her each of the many times she entered this bedroom, despite the fact that Anne Copeland had been dead nearly thirty years.   Over by the window had been an easy chair covered in a nubby avocado fabric with a matching ottoman, and it was on that ottoman that Annabeth sat, while Anne explained about getting her period, something that happened to Annabeth a year after that conversation.   "Don't slouch, dear, it makes you look heavier.   Stand up straight," commanded her mother as they peered into the big mirror on the far wall, Annabeth modeling one of many party dresses worn during junior high.   "It's a bit tight, isn't it."   Anne clucked her tongue, "Too bad you're built like Grandma, not me."   "The seam isn't straight, dear," Anne had said, sitting at the desk placed catty corner to the bed, holding a skirt Annabeth was sewing for a Girl Scout merit badge.   "Pull it out and do it like I do."   They lay casually sometimes, on the big bed, careful not to rumple the striped avocado and purple bedspread, Anne turning the pages of Annabeth's sketch book.   "Oh yes,