Lydia had no idea. She stood in front of her closet dressed in a robe, her skin still damp from her shower. She had casual clothes that worked for a casual lunch at a club, but not a circus. “I don’t know what to wear,” Lydia said with a sigh. Maya reached in and pulled out denim jeans and then rummaged through Lydia’s dresser drawer and pulled out a blue cotton shirt. “Wear these, Mom. They’re comfortable.” She dug through the bottom of the closet and pulled out an old pair of flats. “Yes, but...” “Mom, you want to be comfortable.” Not too comfortable, Lydia thought. Maya ran to her bedroom to get dressed. Lydia pulled her clothes on and sat on the bed to put on her shoes. “I like Mr. Hunter,” Maya said from the doorway. Lydia studied her daughter. She liked Hunter, too. “You do. Why?” “He’s nice and doesn’t talk to me like I’m three years old.”
