“It does, Mom,” Celeste answers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And then, before you know it, you’ll be a grandma.”
“Stop,” I say. “I’m barely used to this marriage idea. And you have plenty of time. You’re only twenty-two.” Ever since she told me the engagement news my emotions have been waffling between happiness and panic, but I don’t tell her that.
“You were twenty-three when you had me,” she reminds me. “You like Zach, and we’re in love. Nothing else matters.” She takes off her sunglasses, and I can feel her stare. “Right? You’re going to be strong and not let anything, or anyone, bother you this weekend. You promised.”
I meet her eyes before refocusing on the road. “I said I’dtry. For you. And Zach. And I will.”
The closer we get to their “dream desert home”—leave it to Roxy to wax poetic on a party invitation—the more dread floods my body. My neck is so tense I can barely turn it side to side. It’s bad enough being the one my sorority sisters always think of as “the scholarship student.”Poor Beth.That label sticks for life, no matter how much time passes. But now I’m also the ever-single mother of the bride, who works for a living as president of a nonprofit and barely keeps her head above water with the Southern California prices. I glance at my hands gripping the steering wheel: blue spidery veins and chewed fingernails. I’m sunk before I even arrive. I cannot compete with these women, these so-called friends from college. The fact is I never could.
I snap back to the present as a car almost sideswipes us. As it speeds ahead I note the vanity plate: TINGLEY.
“Jerk,” I say under my breath.
“You look pale, Mom. Are you OK?” Celeste asks, touching my leg.
I take a deep breath and force a smile. “I love you. I’m fine. I can handle Roxy for a couple of days. I mean, I handled her for four years in college. I’m excited to make special memories here with you, my favorite girl,” I say. “As long as I get to spend time with you, and you’re happy, that’s all that matters this weekend. Thanks for flying home and driving over with me.”
“Of course. How could I pass up one last mother-daughterroad trip?” she says. “Zach wanted to come, too, but his mom insisted he fly straight to the desert. And you know his mom.”
“Roxy always gets what she wants,” I say. She did back in college, and as far as I know, she still does, every day. It might have been twenty-five years since I’d seen her last, but I have a feeling nothing’s changed.
“Yep. That’s why Zach and I live in Chicago, far, far away,” Celeste says with a laugh. “But not forever. Promise. Just until we finish school, and then we’ll be back home. I want to raise all my babies right next to you.”
I can’t help but laugh with her. Her joy, as ever, is contagious. “How many are we talking now? I know, you hated being an only child, so what’s the number up to?”
She grins. “At least four, maybe six.”
“And Zach is on board?” I ask.
“Mostly,” she says. “He’ll come around.”
“Ok, bring ’em on. I’m ready,” I say. “But not until after the wedding. Deal?”
“Deal, duh,” she says. “Oh! It’s only four more miles.”
She’s so excited. I wish the feeling were mutual. “Almost there indeed.”
“Come on, Mom. Let me see you smile,” she says. “Did you know this is the first time the Gentrys have all come out to the new property? Ryan has been working on fixing it up for two years, I guess. Zach said his dad always wanted a property in the desert, and when this one came on the market, he jumped on it. Didn’t even tell Roxy before he bought it.”
“Wow, I bet that ruffled Roxy’s feathers,” I say, stopping at a stop sign. “She never did like surprises.”
“Yes, so I’ve learned. But in this case, from what I know, she wasn’t in charge at all. Ryan was,” Celeste says. “I think that’s the Gentrys’ place. On the right.”
I still cannot believe my little girl is marrying a Gentry. She’ll soon be a Gentry. Of all life’s curveballs, this one takes the cake.
“There it is! 26398 Sands Lane. We’ve made it, Mom,” she says, pointing. “Look at that fancy gate and a winding lane beyond.”
We made it. Whoopee.Of course Roxy has a big gate to keep out the riffraff, people like me. The gates are magnificent, shiny metal guardians of the property, with a design that is intricate and imposing. Ornate scrollwork and filigree patterns create a sense of luxury and substance. The gate has a decorative crest, GH, displayed prominently in the center. With gates like these, I can only imagine what lies beyond.
I pull into the driveway and stop at the closed metal gates. For a brief moment I have the weirdest sense of déjà vu, like I’ve been here before. but that’s impossible. I’ve only been to Palm Springs once, ever. I roll down the window and push the call button as hot desert air whooshes into the car.
“It’s so warm outside,” Celeste says, rolling her window down, too, and sticking her long arm out. “Now it feels like a vacation.”
“Hello! Welcome to Gentry House,” says a slightly Southernvoice through the call box. Even after all these years, I’d recognize that twang anywhere. Roxy. “Come on in, Beth and Celeste; we’ve been expecting you all.”
I paste on my best Theta Gamma Mu sorority recruitment smile, the one they taught us to use when speaking with an eager rushee who had absolutely no chance of getting a bid on Pref Night. “Thank you,” I say through gritted teeth. “Can’t wait to see you.”
“Mom, relax,” Celeste says. “Your shoulders are up in your ears. This is a party for you and your sorority sisters. Roxy has planned everything for a special reunion. I’m excited to meet everyone. It will be fun, not stressful.”
