“Mr. Hudson, it’s so good to see you.” He pulled me into his arms tightly.
“I told you to call me Leonard,” he said in what I presumed was a shot at scolding me.
“Sorry, Mr. Hud…I mean Leonard.” I put my hand over my mouth in an attempt to mime my blunder.
Trish’s parents weren’t at our place long. They insisted on staying at a hotel even though Trish and I both separately offered our rooms. There was a nice couch, after all. But they said they didn’t want to put us out. I think they wanted their privacy. How can you argue with that?
Shortly after they left I took off for Ethan and Allison’s apartment. Ethan was picking up everyone at the airport – they were staying at a hotel, too. But first, they would be back at Ethan’s place, and I would be there to greet them.
I parked in front of their apartment and turned off the rumbling engine of my very old and very loud classic Oldsmobile. The constant teasing by my friends didn’t bother me. I continued to love my distinctly Emily car. The door creaked before it slammed solidly shut. I ran my fingertips over the turquoise paint along the fender.
At the door I knocked, two short, a pause and one more. Allison always knew it was me by my knock.
“Hey Emily.” She opened the door and shooed her cat away. The addition of the cat is one of the many things I found hilarious about the transformation Allison had made in Ethan’s apartment. When Ethan lived here alone it was a cry for help. Macaroni and cheese was his favorite meal: you could tell by the empty boxes lining the countertop. His furniture taste…well he didn’t have any. Now, the counter tops were spotless and little oven mitts hung on the hook next to the oven. The furniture they had together resembled something you would actually find in a furniture store and not the garden center of a big box store. And when I opened the door I was greeted with the fresh scent of some kind of flower instead of…something I didn’t recognize and wished would go away. She’d made some changes and added her touches, and it suited him now in so many ways.
“How long ago did Ethan leave for the airport?”
“Oh, like twenty minutes or so,” she said glancing at the clock.
“Cute top.” I studied her outfit noting the sharp contrast it was to mine. She looked neat and put together. I looked like I just got out of the shower with little or no concern for my appearance.
“Thanks.” She looked down and smoothed her shirt. It was light blue with tiny crystal buttons. It accentuated her green eyes and even complemented the blond curls hanging in spirals from her temples to her shoulders. “You know I’d rather be in my pajamas, but…”
“Yeah, I know–family.” I said it with slight exasperation, though I was excited to see them. But they were my family. Like I had to dress up. Really. “When does your family get in?” I wondered if she was a little nervous about our two families spending time together. She appeared a little reserved, but not really nervous. But then again, she was always the picture of perfect calm. Compared to me.
“They’ll be here this afternoon.” She walked toward the couch and plopped down with her hand on the armrest. “Nothing like waiting until the last minute.” She smiled to cover up that she was just the slightest bit annoyed.
I joined her on the couch. I figured we could continue this nondescript logistical, pretty meaningless conversation, or I could get down to the nitty-gritty. That’s what I did. “Are you nervous about your family meeting ours?” I wasn’t really in the equation, but Ethan and I did share family.
She sighed and looked more relaxed. “Yeah, I guess I am a little.” She looked down at her hands and fidgeted.
“It’ll be fine, Allison.” I meet her gaze. “Really. You know my family. They’re…” I didn’t want to say simple; that didn’t seem like the right word. “They’re easygoing.” Then it occurred to me that my family might not be what worried her. She’d met them a few times now. Ethan had met her family as well, but the families together might be a whole different dynamic.
“What are you worried about?” I asked, trying to get to the bottom of it.
She shrugged. “Nothing. It’s probably nothing.” I opened my mouth to probe further but we both heard the key in the lock and turned toward the door.
It flung open. “Grandma!” I jumped up, happier to see her than I imagined. She opened her arms for me as Hunter and Mom followed, waiting to greet me. I wrapped my arms around her, thinking they seemed to wrap even further than the last time I held her. She couldn’t have been smaller, but it sure seemed that way. The scent of dove soap mixed with soft powder created a fragrance that was perfectly Grandma. I breathed it in.
She clasped her hands on the top of my shoulders and squeezed. “You are too thin, Emily.”
“Grandma,” I said, inside a sigh. She moved ahead to greet Allison, who was accepting many compliments from my mom. Mom loved Allison. She always said she couldn’t have picked a better girl for Ethan. We all agreed.
Mom pulled me in for a hug and Hunter tapped my shoulder before he and Ethan went into the kitchen, presumably to find some lunch. Hunter graduated from high school a couple of weeks earlier and was a strapping eighteen-year-old. Food was always on his mind.
“What are you wearing tonight?” Mom asked obviously not happy with my casual but freshly showered appearance.
“Not this, relax,” I responded, fairly confident that I would choose something appropriate.
“I know,” she said, then looked at Grandma. From her purse Grandma pulled a small, black velvet box. All eyes turned as we closed the distance between us.
“Open it,” she said. A huge smile lit up her face. The box made a little creak as it opened. Inside was a pair of cream-colored, highly lustrous pearl ear-drops. Each earring had three pearls that gradually got bigger as they dropped down from the post. They were something I recognized immediately. I’d seen them on Grandma many times. I’d already planned to wear the pearl necklace she and Grandpa had given me years earlier. And these would look beautiful with it. Then I remembered the last time I’d seen them on her. It was at Grandpa’s funeral. For a second that made me sad, but I tried to focus on the joy of the occasion and reached for my Grandma.
“Thank you. They’re lovely.”
“You recognize them?”
“Yes.” That was all I had to say and Grandma knew what I was feeling. She stroked my shoulder and pushed back the few pieces of hair that had come loose from the hair clip and flopped around my face.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Laura Albright, a California native and graduate of California State University Sacramento lives in northern California with her husband and son. Emily Calls It is the second in a four-book series: Call Me Emily, Emily’s Calling and Meet Emily. Visit Laura’s blog at http://laura-albright.com/
Emily Calls It (The Emily Series) Page 17
