A minute after Amanda left Professor Also’s office her phone rang. It was her mother. This took the wind out of her newly inflated sails. She was worried about her father but she wasn’t ready to talk to her mother. One thing was certain, though. There was no way Lila could blame her for the kidnapping. Realizing that, and knowing that there was no possible punishment coming, she answered. As much bitterness as there was between the two, at this moment she felt a bond with her parents. She didn’t recall feeling that way since she was little and it unnerved her. But as soon as her mother spoke, she felt the bond go limp. Despite the situation, the woman was still a migraine waiting to happen.
“Hello, darling,” her mother said. “Your father will be fine. The police will get him back. As you know, we’re acquainted with many of them personally. I’ve given them very specific instructions about how to handle these criminals. Did you know that I’ve compiled a handbook for solving crimes? I’ve been working on it for years. You didn’t know that, did you? It will all be yours someday. Anyway, I’ve taken a couple of pages out of the book and sent them to the Yard, explaining exactly why and how my techniques work. They’re to follow them to the letter.”
Of course the police weren’t going to listen to her. Where did Lila Lester get these delusions of grandeur? This was a question Amanda had often pondered. Lila was one of five children, with two sisters and two brothers, all older than she was. That made her the baby of her family, which explained why she was spoiled and felt a deep sense of entitlement. Her parents had raised the children to believe that they could do anything, and do it better than anyone else, simply because of who they were, not how smart or talented they were, or because they worked at it. This didn’t mean that the kids sloughed off because they didn’t. In their own way, they were all hard workers, each one dedicated to the life he or she had chosen. And they did excel, but along with that excellence, most of them were insufferable.
The one exception was Aunt Delilah, a lovely, humble person who had devoted her life to helping others. As a young woman, she had gone into the Peace Corps, serving in Azerbaijan, and after her two-year stint had founded an organization called Scribble and Nibble, which helped poor people learn to read and write so they could get better jobs and feed their families. The group had done a lot of work in Asia and was well thought of. Amanda admired her Aunt Delilah a lot, and she was hoping to raise enough money to make a film about her someday.
Amanda realized that she was daydreaming and snapped back to attention. Her mother was still rattling on about how everything would be all right because she knew best, and the police knew she knew best, and her father would know that she knew best, and he’d feel confident knowing that the police were following his wife’s methods, and he wouldn’t be panicking and she shouldn’t panic either. Amanda casually wondered how many words her mother had spoken in just this one conversation, then thought of Editta and the way she loved to count things, and thought maybe she should put her on the phone so she could count the words and her mother would never even know that she was no longer there.
But somehow in all that dense verbiage, Amanda realized that she cared about her father a lot, and despite his tendency to lecture, and his obsession with his work, and his inability to understand her, he was a good person and she missed him. For Herb Lester was a good person. In fact, he was a very good person. In a way, he was like his sister-in-law Delilah, working himself into the ground to make the world a better place for people he didn’t even know. Amanda was surprised to discover that she felt proud of him.
“Are you all right, darling? Need something? I can send you anything you like. Warm clothes? More of my books to read? Perhaps your friends would enjoy them. You could pass them around. Amanda?”
Amanda sighed. Her mother would never change, but she couldn’t think about that now. Her father had been kidnapped, strange things were going on at school, and there was a class project to do. Suddenly she felt exhausted. “No, Mom. I’m fine. You take care of yourself, all right?” Then, as a concession to the situation, she added, “Keep in touch.”
“I will, darling,” said her mother. “I will.”