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salon, Isabel heard the chime of her cell phone. She didn’t much feel like talking, and prayed it wasn’t one of her law partners, or a needy client. Rummaging through her purse, she finally located the phone and saw that it was Phoebe.
    â€œHi, honey, where are you?” she said automatically.
    â€œJust leaving school.”
    â€œDid you have a good day?” she asked.
    â€œYes. But I was wondering if, uh—”
    Isabel grew alert. “Wondering what, honey?” Phoebe sounded as if she were about to stretch the truth. Isabel knew that lying came with the tricky territory of adolescence, but still, she didn’t think deception should be tolerated. She had enough of that with her clients. She reminded herself to be patient; after all, Phoebe hadn’t lied yet.
    â€œWell…don’t say no, okay, Mommy?”
    â€œOkay, no—I mean I won’t automatically say no. But listen, honey, I have a nail appointment, so can we just get to the point?” “Yeah, well, we’re going to this thrift shop—”
    â€œThrift shop?” she said. The very words annoyed her as her mind conjured up the pile of smelly used clothing in Phoebe’s room. “Who’s we?”
    â€œJessie, Emma, and a few other kids.”
    Isabel heaved a sigh. “Which thrift shop, honey?”
    â€œSecond Chance, and maybe another one.”
    â€œAnother one?” Isabel asked. “And where is that?”
    â€œIt’s over in,” pause, “uh, Adams Morgan.”
    Aha, Isabel thought, with some relief. Even when Phoebe knew she might object, she told the truth, and Isabel truly appreciated this in her daughter. So she felt a tiny bit bad when she said, “No, honey, I’m sorry, but you’re not going to a thrift store in Adams Morgan.”
    â€œBut Mom—”
    â€œYou know that’s not a safe neighborhood. Too many things can—” she hesitated, go wrong , she thought, but then supplied what she hoped would be just the right solution. “There are plenty of secondhand shops in Georgetown. I’m okay with that. Go ahead, hang out in Georgetown with your friends. Anyway, don’t forget you have to be home by six to babysit your brother. The ninth grade parents’ party – it’s tonight. Remember?”
    â€œBut Maawwm—”
    â€œI’m counting on you to make a good decision here. No Adams Morgan. Listen, I’m about to be late, but you can reach me if anything comes up, okay?”
    â€œAll right, bye.” The call ended abruptly.
    Isabel stared at the phone. She had the urge to call back – had Phoebe really heard her say no to Adams Morgan? – but she stopped herself.
    As she stepped inside Aqua, Isabel was thinking that more than anything she wanted to crack the code on teen behavior. In lighter moments, she knew she’d be worth a fortune if she did. It was ironic, actually, since she’d broken the code on dealing with white-collar criminals long ago. Sure they were liars, but most of them wanted to tell the truth, to someone. They wanted to brag about what they’d achieved, how they’d pulled the wool over the eyes of unsuspecting colleagues or board members or whomever, and tell her how they’d managed to defraud them, how their schemes had worked, how they’d gotten away with murder. Well, until they’d gotten caught. But getting a thirteen-year-old to talk, to tell you what’s on her mind, that was like trying to break into Fort Knox. Heck, Fort Knox would be a breeze by comparison.
    Over the past couple of years, Isabel had learned that raising children required a delicate balance. Too much intervention and you ended up with rebellion, not enough and who knew what might happen?
    But Adams Morgan? Not a good idea. Again tempted to call Phoebe back, her finger hovered over the send button until she heard the receptionist clear his throat. She looked up.