Greer
“Baby, what do you think of this one?” I asked Bow. “I think it’d fit the house quite nicely.”
I was helping my daughter pick out furniture. She was moving in with her boyfriends, so this was an exciting time. Bow’s relationship with Bru and Wells was unconventional, but her father and I supported it. Well,Isupported it and brought my husband, Knight, around to the idea. Honestly, I didn’t think it was the fact that Bow had two boyfriends that bothered him so much, rather that she had a boyfriend at all. She was his baby girl.
My daughter came over, looking the epitome of confident, radiant. Bow could be shy but, recently, she seemed to have come out of her shell, and I was so happy about that. She had so much love and beauty to give to this world, and it was wonderful that she was finally seeing that. She beamed at the faux leather couch. It was a cream color and would go with her new home quite well.
“It’s stunning, Mom. Seriously,” Bow said. She looked like a mini version of me plus her dad, which was interesting. Her dad was a huge former lacrosse player, and I was, well, not. I was pretty petite. Bow got my size, but she got her father’s blue eyes. Her hair was dark like Knight’s as well, and I didn’t know whereher style came from at all. She dressed in a vintage-academia style. She liked pleated skirts and button-ups, where I had liked more of a pinup style when I was her age. I still loved shopping vintage, so the pair of us had that in common.
“You know you don’t have to say you like something just because I do,” I said, bringing my arms around her small waist. I smiled. “You won’t hurt my feelings.”
She wouldn’t, and I only wanted her to say she wanted something if she did. I knew getting Bru’s and Wells’s approval wouldn’t be hard. They wanted Bow to have anything her heart desired. Surprisingly, the boys used their trust funds to buy the house. I guess it just showed how much they loved each other. How much they lovedmy daughterwhich, of course, I loved.
“No, I really do love it,” Bow said, her grin so wide, which made my insides dance. Between the two of us, we managed to furnish a good portion of the house. Well, the three of us. My good friend Billie joined us today. She was a globetrotter with her husband, LJ, but they both happened to be in town this weekend. LJ was playing golf with Knight and the other husbands in our friend group. I believe the sons joined them as well.
“If you love this couch, Bow, this coffee table would be perfect with it,” Billie said. She was a redhead who was a beauty queen in a former life. I wasn’t joking. She’d won beauty pageants before I knew her, which didn’t surprise me. We both may be women of a certain age, but Billie could easily fit in with girls half her age in regards to style and her lack of age lines. She lived a pretty relaxed life with all the traveling she did, so that may have had something to do with that.
Billie eyed the coffee table. It was short and woodgrain andwouldgo with the couch. Billie grinned. “What do you think?”
“I think I’m happy that I have you both today. I don’t have an eye for this stuff like you and Mom clearly do,” Bow said,hugging Billie. My daughter was being generous including me in that statement. Billie definitely picked out the majority of the items Bow had approved today.
Billie returned the hug, and it was so strong. Billie didn’t have children, but she was always good with mine. My son, Thatcher, loved her, too.
Billie would have been a good mom, but it just wasn’t in the cards for them. They had many fertility issues in the past, which broke my heart. LJ would have been a great dad, too. They both had such big hearts.
I came over to the pair. “Sweetie, you and I both know Billie picked out all the best stuff for your house.”
Billie’s eyes lifted. “Oh, whatever, Greer.”
“It’s true,” I said, laughing. I grabbed Billie’s hand. “Seriously, thank you for coming today and helping.”
“Anything for you guys and this girl.” Billie squeezed Bow, which made her laugh. The woman towered over my daughter since she was so petite. Billie pulled back. “What do you say we head out and get some lunch? My treat.”
“Oh, girl, you don’t have to do that,” I said. Billie shook her head.
“No, let me. I know this great Italian place that—” Billie’s attention drifted. Her gaze caught on to something, and that caused Bow and me to look in that direction. We both stopped on a young woman over by the same coffee table we’d been looking at. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair. It was a wash of big curls. She was quite tall. She also appeared to be a myriad of races. She could have been Black but also Latinx, I wasn’t sure, but her skin held a glorious tan that was obviously natural to her heritage. The young woman glanced up, and Billie’s eyes flashed.
“Sorry for staring. I guess you just look familiar to me,” Billie said, and the young woman’s mouth parted. Billie smiled. “I’m sure I don’t know you. Again, sorry for staring.”
“Oh, no problem. I probably just have one of those faces or something,” the young woman said. Her cheeks were suddenly red. She played with her big curls before awkwardly checking out some of the other furniture. I didn’t catch a great look at her face, but I didn’t recognize her.
I squeezed Billie’s arm. “You know her?”
“No, I just…” Billie stared off at the girl again. She’d already made her way toward the other side of the store. Billie shook her head. “I’m probably just losing my mind. She seemed familiar to me, I guess.”
Again, I hadn’t gotten a great look at her, but, now that she said something, a familiarity was itching at the back of my mind, too. Like I’d seen her before but couldn’t place her.
Billie waved. “Anyway, yes, that Italian place. You’ll love it. LJ and I always hit it up when we’re in town.”
I felt like I’d eaten at the majority of great places here in Maywood Heights, but I’d take her word for it. “I’m up for Italian.”
“Me too.” Bow threaded her arm through Billie’s, and Billie smiled. We probably had all day to eat since the boys were golfing. They could be gone for hours.
Knight
“Pay attention now, gentlemen. I’m about to make quick work of this.” I tapped the ball into the hole. Not a hole in one, but a birdie was just as good with the lot I was playing with. Myfriends and their sons were pretty good at golf, but my son, Thatcher, and I were better.
“Nice one, Pop,” Thatcher said, and, though I knew, I showed off a bit anyway: I put my hand up, and Thatcher slapped it. The boy was the spitting image of me, which meant we were both the spitting image of my father. We both had his dark hair and sturdy build, and, though my dad passed away when I was young, I made sure Thatcher saw pictures of him growing up.
