Mom sets her pendown and gives me her full attention. “How is my darling girldoing? I didn’t get much of a chance to speak to her onThanksgiving.”
I smile at theterm of endearment, even though I’m unsure how to answer. Stellawouldn’t mind if I told Mom any of the things she’s confided in merecently. Mom would be sympathetic, but also concerned because shegenuinely loves Stella and considers her family. I’m not sure Iwant to get into it right now, so I finally settle on, “She’sfiguring things out. I’ve told her she doesn’t need to rush or feelpressured into anything.”
Mom nods,seemingly pleased with that answer. “You’re a good friend, Evelyn.You two are lucky to have each other. Speaking of which, are youenjoying living together? I worried it might not be the wonderfulfantasy you always dreamed of.”
“Ithink it’s safe to say we both worried a bit about that too, butit’s been great. We genuinely enjoy each other’s company, and we’vefallen into a routine that works for us. I think it helps that I’mgone most of the day and we’re not together all the time. I’mhonestly in no hurry for her to move out.”
“I’mboth glad and relieved to hear that,” Mom says. “What the two ofyou have is something truly special. Or, rather, thefourof you. My fourgirls.” She says the last part wistfully, her eyes misting over.With a few rapid blinks, the moisture disappears, making me wonderif I imagined the beginning of tears. “Anyway, I wondered from thesmile on your face if you’d been texting Wesley.”
“Wes?Why would I be texting him?” Andwhat kind of smile was I wearing for her to assume that?
Sheshrugs casually.Toocasually. “You two looked cozy on Thanksgiving, that’s all.Will you be seeing him again before your party?”
“I’dlike to, but he said he’ll be busy dealing with some stuff whilehe’s in town.” He’s told me that twice now: Saturday night afterour time together at the diner, and again on Thanksgiving nightbefore we parted ways. Stella spoke to him on the phone yesterdayand seemed less irritated with him afterward, but I was afraid topress her for details about what was going on with the two ofthem.
Otherthan a soft hum of acknowledgment, Mom doesn’t say anything else,which is surprising. She returns her attention to the list in frontof her, although I can tell she’s looking at it withoutreallyseeingit.The wheels in her brain are turning so hard, I can practically hearthem.
“Such asweet boy, our Wesley,” she says faintly, as if she’s lost inthought. “Man, Ishould say. Even after all these years, it’s hard for me not topicture him as that fair-haired little boy who never strayed farfrom your side.”
Unsurewhere she’s going with this but suspecting sheisgoing somewhere, I remainsilent.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if he moved back to town? I’m sure Suzanneand Warren would be over the moon to have both of their childrenback. And you would too, I imagine.”
“Iwould,” I say steadily. “Stella and Wesley are two of the people Ilove most in the world.”
For a moment, Ifear I’ve said the wrong thing. Mom’s eyes brighten and shestraightens almost imperceptibly in her seat. She reminds me of awell-trained pet who’s just heard the familiar crinkle of a treatbag and is waiting patiently for a reward. I almost laugh to myselfwhen I think how offended she would be at thatcomparison.
The sound of thedoorbell interrupts whatever she’s about to say. I don’t even havea chance to feel relieved before she says, “That’ll be thehairdresser for the test run of your hairdo for theparty.”
I jumpup from the table. “The who for thewhat?”
“I’vearranged for you and the girls to have your hair and makeup donebefore the party,” Mom says, sweeping from the room with me hot onher heels. “I was going to surprise you on Saturday, but after thefiasco with the dresses last weekend, I thought a trial run wouldbe a smart idea so there are no unpleasant surprises the day of theparty. Someone will be coming in an hour or so to do yourmakeup.”
There’s no time toexpress my dismay before Mom reaches the door and throws it open.Looks like I’m not getting out of here any time soon.
*****
Having a team ofprofessionals do my hair and makeup for my birthday seemscompletely over the top, and yet I can’t deny the results areincredible. So incredible, in fact, I can’t stop staring at myselfin the mirror after the makeup artist has packed up and left. Itwist and turn, admiring my glowing skin and the soft curls thatframe my face.
It doesn’t escapeme how lucky I am to have my own ‘Glam Squad’ as Mom called them; alot of people dream of things like this. And in the spirit oflooking for the positives, I know Stella, Hollie, and Louisa willenjoy the pre-party pampering on Saturday.
Mom’sclick-clacking heels announce her arrival a moment before sheenters my bedroom. When her eyes meet mine in the mirror, she comesto an abrupt halt. “Oh, Evie, you look stunning. You always looklovely, of course, but hiring professionals was a brainwave on mypart.” She strides further into the room and comes to stand behindme where I’m still sitting at the vanity table. “I sent your dressin for a few minor adjustments, otherwise I’d have you try it on sowe could get the full effect.”
I can’t imaginewhat ‘minor adjustments’ the dress needed since it fit perfectly,but it’s best not to ask.
“You’regoing to make some man very lucky someday, you know,” Momsays.
I groan. “Mom,please—”
She waves off myprotest. “Are you bringing a date to the party?”
“Youknow I’m not.”
“I knowno such thing.” She’s still standing behind me. Something about herbody language tells me she wants to touch my hair. Not in a loving,motherly way, but in a way that says she wants to adjust something.“You don’t keep me abreast of your dating life.”
“That’sbecause there’s nothing to tell.” The minute the words are out, Iknow they’re a mistake. Mom’s wide-eyed curiosity has a voice in myhead screeching, ‘Abort,abort!’ I spring to my feet and pace acrossthe floor. What I’d really like to do is flee the room entirely,but she’d only follow me. “Well, notnothing. I’ve been dating on and off,and Fergus will be coming to my party on Saturday. You saidyourself how great he is.”
“Soit’s okay when Hollie plays matchmaker, but not me?”
