“Thank you, honey. And, no, we just sat down. We did order you your whiskey, though.”
“Great.” I could use a drink. “So, what’d you do today to celebrate the big four-oh?”
Mom giggles, and Perri lets out a loud laugh. “Oh, you,” Mom says, swatting my arm. “Perri and I went shopping, had lunch, and then went to my favorite spa for facials and mani-pedis. Now we’re here with you, darling,” Mom adds, squeezing my hand. “Is that your father’s jacket?” she says with a little sadness.
“It is.” I pull it off and drape it over my chair. “I swear it still smells like him.”
“Considering that you look like his twin, it seems fitting you’re wearing one of his favorite jackets. My goodness, you do look like him more and more every year.” She sighs.
I hold up the gift, hoping to steer her away from the sad topic of my dad. “Do you want your gift now or with dessert?”
“Ooh,” she squeaks. “As soon as we order.”
“All right. Whatever the birthday girl wants, she gets.” I chuckle. My mom is a wonderful person. My sister is a pain in the ass, but I couldn’t live without her either. I’m lucky to have them in my life. I wonder if they’d like MacKenzie? Oh, hell, of course they would. MacKenzie would fit right in here. Yeah, she’d fit right in.
When the waiter returns with our drinks, we order. Mom and Perri both order the broiled salmon with broccoli while I go for the classic Chicago-cut ribeye and mashed potatoes.When in Rome. The steak in this place is delicious. As soon as he’s taken our menus, I lean over with her gift and place it in front of her. “I hope you like it.”
She carefully pulls the ribbon off the package and then painstakingly tears the ends first and then the back. I’m not sure why she does that, because she doesn’t save the wrap. I think she likes the buildup. She gingerly slides the top of the long box up, pulls open the tissue, and gasps. “Oh, my goodness,” she says with awe as she pulls the delicate necklace from the box slowly. It’s thirty inches long, so it takes a minute or two for her to see the entire thing. “Where did you find this?”
She really likes it, I can tell. “A woman I know makes jewelry. It’s one of her designs.”
My sister reaches over and gently touches the chain. “That’s beautiful. Look how the light hits it, Mom. It sparkles. What’s on the small round pieces?” she says, leaning down to squint at the pieces.
“There are ten of those. She carved things from the sea on each one, like a starfish, a shell?—”
“Oh, Samuel, it’s perfect. I love the ocean. This is so thoughtful, honey. Did you commission this?”
“Nope. She made this, plus there were some other pieces that went with it like a bracelet and earrings, I think. The best partabout this is she made everything by hand. I think the only thing she didn’t make was the clasp.”
Perri asks, “What do you mean she made everything?”
I explain how MacKenzie made each tiny ring in the chain. Both Mom and Perri look shocked.
“Whoisthis woman? Where does she sell her things? How do you know her?” Mom asks, sincerely interested.
“Her name is MacKenzie Parker. She works and sells her things at One of a Kind in Watertower Place.”
“Oh, I’ve been there,” Perri says to Mom. “It’s cool but pricey.”
I roll my eyes at my little sister. We aren’t hurting for money; Dad made sure of that. Couple that with the fact she makes good money as a scientist and researcher for a pharmaceutical company based in Chicago. She’s just cheap, er, I mean, frugal.
Mom smiles at me in a way only she can, knowingly. “So how do you know her, Samuel?”
“I don’t really know her well. I’ve only just met her.”
“Really? Is she pretty?”
Here we go. Mom won’t be happy until I’ve settled down with two-point-five kids. “Very.” The less I say, the better.
“Interesting,” she says as the waiter returns with our salads.
I’m not sure whatinterestingmeans, but I’m not going to ask about it either. My mom is tenacious on a bad day, so when she gets something in her head, it’s best to change the subject. I don’t need a sixty-year-old matchmaker breathing down my neck.
“So, Perri. How’s work?” I ask, knowing my sister will take over. She’s got a love-hate relationship with her boss, Duncan.
“Ugh, don’t get me started. Listen to what the jackass, Duncan, did today…” I got her started.
You know, I actually think she has a thing for Duncan, but if I said that aloud, she’d throw her buttered roll at me, and I don’twant butter on my cashmere sweater. Before I know it, dessert comes, and Mom is threatening our lives if we try to sing the happy birthday song. “Come on, Mom. You only turn forty a few times.” I chuckle.
