CHAPTER SEVEN
The next Wednesday, I get a text from my mom inviting me for dinner. We’ve only managed to snag a few minutes here and there to talk since my impromptu visit last Friday night. I’m hoping she’ll have good news about her relationship with Emilio, which is part of the reason I accept her invitation, despite being exhausted from pulling double shifts the last three days. I’ll be taking Saturday off for the kick-off of Gwen and Evan’s pre-wedding festivities and, since that means needing to pay extra people to cover for me, I’m working as much as possible this week.
The sun is low in the sky by the time I pull into Mom’s driveway. Today is the first day of autumn, and the weather has been perfect—blue skies, mild temperatures, and a hint of a nip in the air. The autumnal decor around the café has multiplied over the last few days, and Cravings has been tagged in more social media posts this week than we have in the last month. The decorations have been as much of a hit as all of our new pumpkin-flavored offerings, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
After snapping an especially good picture of the nearly-full café in all its decorated glory, I was tempted to send it to Jasper and wish him a happyofficialautumn equinox. I ultimately decided against it, thinking it might be too weird. Ididpost the photo on our Instagram page, though, wishing all our patrons and followers a blessed harvest season.
Mom is all smiles when she opens the door. She fusses over me as she draws me in for a tight hug, telling me how pretty I look in my red sweater and how much she loves my ‘swirly updo’—a loose bun that sits on the crown of my head. She ushers me inside, flitting around and chattering non-stop as I remove my shoes. As I’m straightening, she zooms off toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that she has a bottle of wine already open and waiting for us.
“You’re a ball of energy,” I say as she pours two generous glasses of white wine. I’m used to seeing her on the go—it’s pretty much her natural state of being—but I’m getting a nervous vibe from her. It makes me wonder if her date with Emilio last week didn’t go as planned and she’s trying to cover her disappointment by being extra bubbly and bright.
“I was on a cooking and cleaning spree before you came over, so I’m feeling energized.” She inclines her glass toward me before taking a sip. She makes a little humming noise and her next sip leads to a gulp. Half her wine is gone before I even taste mine. Something is definitely up.
Before I figure out a gentle way to ask what’s going on, she says, “Since you love autumn, tonight’s menu is seasonal in your honor. I’ve made a butternut squash, apple, and sweet potato soup with homemade bread, and an apple crisp for dessert.”
My mouth waters at the mere mention of dinner. I’m accustomed to being surrounded by food smells, so I didn’t even notice the scent of apples and cinnamon perfuming the air until she told me what she’d made. “Sounds perfect. I was thinking I should add a seasonal soup to our lunch selection, and that sounds like it’d be a hit.”
“I’d offer to give you the recipe, but I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out everything in it once you’ve tasted it.” Mom sends me a wink as she heads for the stove, where she stirs a giant dutch oven full of yellow-orange soup simmering on low heat.
I hate dancing around a subject, but her frenetic energy is making me twitchy and uncertain. Rather than coming out and asking directly about Emilio, I aim for casual. “Any hot dates planned for this week?”
Her hand pauses mid-stir. She’s completely still for a moment, as if someone hit a pause button. Finally, she sets the spoon on the fox spoon holder I got her last Christmas and turns to me. Relief floods through me when I see the dazzling smile on her face.
“Emilio told me he wants to be exclusive.” The words spill out of her, quick and breathy. “He said he’s tired of being in the dating game and there’s no point carrying on seeing other people when you’ve found someone you care about anyway.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I completely agree. All the dating was fun at first—it made me feel young and beautiful, and it was exciting getting out there and meeting people. I didn’t take it seriously because I wasn’tinterestedin something serious. It all began to seem kind of pointless after a while, though. I enjoy my own company and even living on my own, but sometimes I’d wonder what it’d be like to share my life with someone. To go deeper than just the snippets of my life I was sharing with someone I may or may not see again.”
I lean against the kitchen island and rest my chin in my hand. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
Mom’s burst of laughter sounds both surprised and delighted. “I didn’t think you were interested in dating or even relationships.”
“I’m…not? Not really, at least right now. I just love how you own your independence and you’re so self-aware. You’re a total boss who’s been through so much, and yet you’re still open to love and big changes in your life.” At the words ‘open to love’, Mom’s eyes soften, taking on a hint of sadness. She leans on the other side of the island so we’re face to face. I don’t want this to become about me and my failed attempts at love, so I quickly add, “I hope Emilio realizes how lucky he is to have you.”
Mom’s megawatt smile returns. “I think he does. He said all the right things the other night, and I believed him. I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I’ve promised myself to be hopeful and open.”
“Hopeful and open. I like that.” I push up on my toes and wriggle my upper body across the counter so I can kiss her cheek. “I’m happy for you, Mama.” She lightly grips my face and kisses both my cheeks before I slide back to my side of the island.
Mom sets me to work slicing and buttering bread while she dishes up the soup and pours more wine. I watch her from the corner of my eye; she’s still moving like a video that’s been set on fast-forward. When we’re settled at the kitchen table, she immediately jumps in with questions and comments that put the focus on me—asking about work, telling me she’s loving Cravings’ Instagram posts lately, inquiring about Marisol and Gwen.
The minute I finish my soup, she hops up to refill my bowl. She brings the bottle of wine with her and, when I tell her I’ll switch to water since I’m driving, she empties the bottle into her own glass. She’s finally stopped chattering incessantly, so as soon as she sits again, I seize the opportunity to question her.
“Is everything okay? You seemed almost nervous before telling me about Emilio. Were you afraid I wouldn’t be happy for you?”
Mom’s eyes widen. “No! No, that’s not it at all.”
“Okay…” I say slowly, studying her face closely. Her behavior has all kinds of strange and scary thoughts flooding my mind. “If that’s not‘it’then there issomething, right?”
She sighs so heavily it causes her whole body to slump forward. Her hand darts out for her wine glass, then stops, settling on the table to toy with her soup spoon instead. “I always forget you know me better than anyone. I don’t know why I even bother trying to keep things from you.” At my frown, she drops her spoon and reaches across the table to cover my hand with hers. “Emilio wants me to go away with him for Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Oh. Oh!” For the second time since arriving tonight, relief washes over me. I’m going to be a basket case by the time I leave. “That’s great, isn’t it? Seems like he was serious about being in a committed relationship. What’s the problem? Too much, too fast? Are you worried it’s too soon to go away together?”
She picks up my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’m not worried it’s too soon. I know it’s not ladylike to kiss and tell, but Emilio and I slept together on our second date. Going away with him doesn’t worry me.”
I love that Mom is worried about being ‘ladylike’ rather than the possibility of traumatizing her only child with sex talk. Maybe I should have had that third glass of wine after all and made her pay for a taxi home. “What’s the problem then?”
“I can’t go away and leave you all alone on Thanksgiving!” she says. “When I pointed that out to Emilio, he was quick to rescind the offer and suggest the three of us spend the holiday together. He and I can go away together some other time.”
