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too. And probably every summer through college, and every year through the rest of her life.”
    Monique opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, but no sound emerged.
    “Monie, hanging around in Munich sounds like a great time for you and Lenny, but think about this. Why would you want a teenager
     around? What makes you think Lenny wrote that list for Kiera anyway?”
    Monique stopped dead in her tracks. She blinked as if she had something in her eye, and then squeezed her eyes shut altogether.
     Her reaction told Judy what she’d always suspected. Lenny hadn’t said anything about bringing Kiera along.
    Judy stumbled forward with the dogs and then pulled mightily on the leash, digging the heels of her walking sneakers into
     the gravel to try to stop their forward motion. She was halfway to the corner of the park before the mutts finally relented,
     panting and sniffing around the large granite stone that marked the park entrance.
    Monie followed more slowly, scraping the path before her. “Tell me this,” Monie said, a ribbon of annoyance in her voice,
     “how can I not bring my daughter on the last trip her father and I ever planned?”
    Judy noticed with a twinge of guilt the tightness of Monie’s long, slender neck. “Your daughter doesn’t want to go.”
    “She’s not thinking straight.”
    “She’s behaving just like any other teenage girl facing the prospect of going to college. She’s pulling away from you.”
    Judy saw the white line forming around Monie’s lips, and a further tightening of the cords of her throat.
    “She’s supposed to pull away from you.” Judy stepped onto the side of the path as two joggers approached from beyond Monique,
     sweaty and gripping iPods and not really paying attention. “It’s what she’s hard-wired to do. That’s why she hit you with
     UCLA last night. She’s warning you she’s growing up. Going away.”
    “Believe me,” Monie said darkly, “I know she’s going away.”
    “And by hitting her with that bucket list, she knows you’re going away. And not just to Europe. She’s thinking ‘If Mom is doing that bucket list, then Mom is moving on.’”
    “I hate that expression.”
    Monie dropped the weights on the ground and then sank into a crouch, dragging her fingers through her braids. The dogs rumbled
     over and sniffed at her, nudging their noses against her forearm to try to get a lick upon her face. Judy reeled up the leashes
     and then finally pulled on the collars until the dogs sat back, heads cocked, tongues lolling, wondering when the crouching
     Monie was going to uncover her face and give them the vigorous ear-rubs they deserved.
    Monie opened one palm and peeked up at her. “I hate you, you know.”
    A muscle spasmed in Judy’s chest, a tightening pull of regret. “I suppose I could have been more diplomatic.”
    “You’re right.”
    “There’s something about turning fifty that severed the link between my tongue and discretion.”
    “No, I mean you’re right about Kiera.” Monique planted her hands on her knees and pushed herself up to her full height. “Damn
     it.”
    “Honey, I’m five teenagers ahead of you. Wisdom or insanity, that’s the choice.” Judy glanced at her watch and then toward
     the street, searching among the strolling moms, skateboarders, and joggers. “Becky’s late. She should have been here by now.”
    Monique dusted off the seat of her yoga pants, and then started shaking her legs to loosen them up after their brisk walk.
     “She’s probably shampooing another rug.”
    “Are you going to ask her?”
    Weary, pleading brown eyes looked up at her. “I don’t know, Judy.”
    “Personally, I think you should.”
    “It’s complicated.”
    “I can look after Kiera while you’re gone.”
    “That’s not it. My mother would love to move in for the two weeks.” Monique bent over to retrieve her hand weights, rolling
     them over in her palms. “Kiera would love the home cooking. My