“Oryou could go away together for Thanksgiving like he wanted to.”
She cocks her head to the side, eyeing me closely. I can tell she wants to argue, even though she hasn’t said anything else yet. Part of me wonders if she wants me to convince her, which I’m happy to do. Mom has always put me first and now it’s time for her to focus on the happiness she so richly deserves.
“Thanksgiving has never been that big of a deal for us anyway,” I point out. After she and my dad split, it was always just the two of us, and she made elaborate meals all the time, so we didn’t need a holiday for that. When I hit my teens, we started attending a yearly Friendsgiving gathering hosted by friends of Mom’s, which is always a highly entertaining food- and-boozed-filled event. “I can still go to Sally and Tina’s for Friendsgiving. Or I could just veg for three glorious days since the café will be closed that whole weekend, and I haven’t had much proper time off since Cravings opened. Thank god Canadian Thanksgiving is in October rather than November so I have a built-in reason for a long weekend soon.”
If the way she’s gnawing on her bottom lip is any indication, she’s still uncertain. There’s a hopeful light in her eyes, though, so it’s that hope I appeal to. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom. While I appreciate you not wanting me to spend the holiday alone, I don’t wantyouto miss out on anything because of me. You know I wouldn’t say I was fine if it wasn’t true. Remember the time you dropped me off at that overnight camp you knew I was dreading? When we got there, I said I was okay, but when you pressed me on it, I admitted I didn’t want to stay. I was willing to because you’d already paid and I figured it’d be good for me to tough it out. You said it was completely up to me and I could stay or go, and then you brought me back home, no questions asked. If I’d ever had any doubts about being able to be completely open and honest with you, that cleared them.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. Her fingers have tightened on mine to the point she’s now clutching my hand.
“I’m fine with you spending Thanksgiving with Emilio,” I tell her. “You deserve to be whisked away and have a romantic weekend with your new boyfriend.” I emphasize the word boyfriend and wiggle my eyebrows, drawing a watery laugh from her. “I just have two requests.”
She releases my hand and lifts her napkin from her lap, using it to dab at her eyes. “Anything.”
“The three of us need to have dinner soon because I want to get to know Emilio better.” I pause and she nods vigorously. “And we still spend Christmas together.”
“You got it.” She pushes her chair back and gets to her feet, dropping her napkin on the table. As she comes around to my side, I hop up and step into her open arms, closing my eyes as she wraps me in an apple-and-cinnamon-scented hug. “You’re amazing. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Every day. But feel free to expand more on the ‘amazing’ part.”
The mood is lighter after that. Mom is back to her usual levels of Energizer Bunny instead of bunny hopped up on speed. As I finish my second bowl of soup, she tells me about Emilio’s cabin in Northern Ontario, which is where he plans to take her for their Thanksgiving getaway. It sounds idyllic—it’s on a small lake that’s surrounded by trees, which will be a riot of fall colors by then. He’s promised to cook all their meals, take her hiking, and go on drives in the country. By the time we gather our dishes to clear the table, I’m half tempted to ask if I can come along, although I suppose having your almost-thirty-five-year-old daughter along would put a damper on a romantic getaway.
After loading the dishwasher, I slip out of the kitchen to check my phone. Because Mom and I spend so little quality time together these days, I always make sure my phone is out of reach when we’re together so I’m not tempted to incessantly check Cravings’ social media or fill my notes with recipe ideas and marketing plans. Mom is preoccupied with dishing up apple crisp and ice cream, though, so I don’t feel guilty about opening the text that’s waiting from Gwen.
Hi lovely, hope you’re not in a food coma after dinner with your mom. Just wanted to let you know Sherée had the baby a few hours ago! Malcolm kept Evan updated with texts over the last few hours, and he just sent one that was simply a pic of him, Sherée, and their sweet baby girl with the word ‘perfection’ and a bunch of crying and heart-eye emojis. Will text when I have more details. Give my love to Mama Stewart and be sure to keep some for yourself. Xoxo
The picture Malcolm sent Evan is attached. My eyes prickle when I open it to see Malcolm and Sherée’s exhausted yet glowing faces pressed close together with a swaddled bundle held between them. The baby’s tiny pink hat is riding up enough to show a glimpse of thick black hair underneath.
I take my phone to the kitchen to show Mom the picture and tell her the news. After she gushes over the photo, I quickly type out a reply to Gwen.Congrats Aunt Gwen and Uncle Evan! Please give my love to Malcolm, Sherée, and Baby Girl Perry. Keep me posted. Love you! xoxo
As I’m going out of my texts, I hit my contacts by accident and Jasper’s name pops up as the last incoming call. Is it weird I want to text him to congratulate him? Even weirder that I kind of want tocallhim? Normally the thought of calling someone would make me shudder. Especially someone I literally just met last week. Hedidspend a night on my couch, though, and wewillbe seeing a lot more of each other in the next month…
“Ready for dessert?” Mom asks. “I gave you a big enough helping to put you in that food coma Gwen mentioned.”
Laughing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and follow Mom back to the kitchen table. She’s a rapt audience as I tell her about some of the plans I’ve been cooking up for the last quarter of the year at Cravings. When we finish with dessert, I rise to help her clean up, but she shoos me back to my chair, telling me to relax for a few minutes while she tidies up and puts together a few things for me to take home.
After being on my feet most of the day for the last three days straight, I don’t argue. In fact, I’m tempted to ask if I can crash upstairs in my old room. Between my over-full belly and the fatigue creeping in, I’ll be lucky if I don’t do a faceplant onto the table and fall asleep right here.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. It’s only an email, but having my phone in my hand reminds me of my earlier desire to get in touch with Jasper. The sound of Mom’s quiet humming paired with things being moved around comes from the walk-in pantry. She’ll be a few more minutes at least. Before I can second guess myself, I hit Jasper’s number and raise the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi Jasper, it’s Willow. Gwen texted me a while ago to tell me Sherée had the baby, so I wanted to call and congratulate you.” My face is hot and prickly. The moment I opened my mouth and started speaking, I felt like a complete idiot. It gave me instant flashbacks to the time I called my eighth grade crush and he asked how I got his number and why I was calling him, and then proceeded to tell the whole class the next day. I’m still haunted by the mocking laughter of snotty thirteen-year-olds.
“It’s so nice to hear from you, Willow. What a thoughtful gesture.”
My cheeks are officially on fire, only now it’s from pleasure rather than embarrassment. Jasper’s soft, deep voice in my ear has me closing my eyes, although I’m suddenly not as tired as I was a minute ago.
“Not that I’m not grateful for the call, but I thought you were a text-only type of woman.” If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s a hint of humor in Jasper’s voice. He sounds like he’s smiling, or at least as close to smiling as he gets.
“Such a momentous occasion in the Perry clan warranted a phone call,” I tell him. “I know how excited you were about becoming an uncle. The baby is early, isn’t she? Is everything okay?”
“Sherée’s due date was the first of October, but the baby had other ideas,” Jasper says. I can definitely hear the smile in his voice now. It makes me wish I could see his face. “She’s in perfect health, and Sherée is doing well. Malcolm called me on the way to the hospital and, when I asked him to keep me posted, he said I should meet them because they wanted me there. I stayed in the waiting room and they asked me to come into the room shortly after Elizabeth was born.”
My heart gives a little tug. After seeing the tension between Malcolm and Jasper last weekend, the fact Malcolm asked Jasper to be at the birth of his first child seems like a big deal. “How special,” I murmur. “And Elizabeth? What a beautiful name.”
There’s a beat of silence and then he says, “It was my mother’s name.”
Now my eyes are really stinging. I don’t get a chance to say anything before he speaks again.
