She raised her chin and adjusted her purse higher on her shoulder. “I plan to take advantage of that underwear promotion. I just need to pick the set with my favorite sales associate, if she has a minute.”
I definitely had time before the end of my shift—and based on the empty store, and the way Meg was on her phone, my mom knew it too.
“Okay, but we have to be quiet,” I said.
“That’s fine.” She walked over to peruse the patterns. “Oh, I like the flowers.”
“That one’s not part of the promotion.” I shoved the stack of that pattern aside, my face flaming. Angel had ripped a pair of those off me with his teeth earlier this week. Mom and I could not wear matching undies. “Um, how about the plain gray?” I suggested.
Mom arched her carefully curated brow. “I might almost be a grandmother, but I can still wear cute undies.”
“Yes, you can. Would you like to try the red? They have a heart cutout.” I twisted them around to demonstrate the tiny keyhole-type design of the waistband.
Mom gasped at the audacity. “I can’t wear that.Your father will think I’m inviting him to try out the back entrance.”
“Ew.” I waved the underwear like a white flag. “Please don’t reference your sex life with Dad.”
“I didn’t plan on airing my dirty laundry in the middle of The Closette.” She selected a silky pair and worried the elastic band. “I did try my best with you girls, you know. Especially Jen.”
I sighed and straightened out the display. “We all tried our best.”
Mom nodded. “She still turned into a brat.”
I snorted, then glanced at Meg, who was thankfully too absorbed with her phone to notice my lack of professionalism.
Mom turned to me, a line between her brows. “I’m sorry about how we handled the crib situation. We should’ve stood up for you.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been nice,” I said. “You could’ve stood up for Kat more too.”
Mom shrugged. “Maybe. But Kat defended for herself plenty. Sometimes a little too fiercely. We tried to get Jen therapy as a teen to see if we could root out that animosity, but it never seemed to improve.”
“Nothing will until she realizes she's the problem in all her relationships. She has to commit to changing how she behaves.” Fat chance of that, though.
Mom set aside three pairs of underwear with lace waistbands: one black, one white, and one beige. “I think we might’ve been tip-toeing around the reality of Jen’s situation, of what she needs versus what she wants, and how those options will affect all of us. Your father and I are not willing to sacrifice our relationships with you and Kat just because you’re not on good terms with her.”
Did she ask them to cut us off?
I grabbed a pastel pair of underwear in Mom’s size and set it on top of her selection. “Not even if she withheld grandkid access?”
She shook her head. “I’ll love that baby, and we’ll help her take care of it, but I love my babies too. She has to respect all of you. Maybe part of our journey as parents, and life in general, is learning how to be better in all our relationships.”
I cracked a smile. “Did you get that from one of your daytime talk shows?”
“Yes. But I’ve also lived.” She raised her chin and handed me the stack of undies.
“I see. Well, as much as I appreciate the apology and the sale, I don’t think Jen’s gotten with the program. Either she or someone close to her was messaging me hateful things.”
“Let me see.” Mom put on her glasses, her face crinkling in frustration as she read the various messages that remained after I'd blocked contact. “These aren’t from her phone number. Does she have another one?”
“Maybe. They could also be from her baby-daddy.” I doubted she had any friends left who’d crusade on her behalf.
“I don’t know what she’s thinking.” Mom took a deep breath and drummed her fingers on the display table. “You know why she was so upset about that crib?”
“Because she didn’t want to do night feedings?”
Mom rolled her eyes. “She thought that boyfriend of hers was getting a crib for his place. That way, they could stay over, and he could parent. She had all these hopes of them becoming a real family. But then the crib showed up at our house. And he was ‘too busy’ to help assemble, paint, or take any parenting classes. On top of that, the crib didn’t fit in her room. You can imagine how that shattered her fantasy.”
I frowned, smothering a twinge of pity for the baby. “So she decided to take out her coparenting woes on me?”
