by Amanda Lee
Still, I didn’t defend him to Mom. I merely nodded.
Angus got up, stood and looked at me for a moment, and then headed for the kitchen. He needed to go outside. Saved by the dog.
“I’m going to get a bottle of water while I’m in the kitchen,” I said. “May I bring you anything?”
“No, thank you.”
I let Angus out into the backyard. Thankfully, it had stopped raining, and I could let him play for a few minutes. He ran off the porch and then stood stock still, staring and sniffing the air. I didn’t know if he thought there was something out there or if he was merely making sure there wasn’t. After a few seconds, he trotted over to his favorite tree, and I went back inside.
I got my water and returned to the living room. Mom was looking down at her hands.
“Mom? Are you okay?” I hurried over to her side.
She raised her head. “I’m fine, darling. Just lost in thought.”
“What’re you thinking about?”
“The movie we just wrapped,” she said.
I returned to the chair, kicked off my shoes, and put my feet up on the ottoman. “Tell me all about it.”
She looked wistful. “It was wonderful. I loved the director . . . the producer . . . the cast.”
“Everybody in the cast?” I asked. There was usually at least one person who acted poorly toward Mom or his or her other castmates and gave Mom something to complain about—and relay funny stories about—during the entire shoot.
“Every single person. You know how you hear actors talk during their promotional tours about the cast being one big happy family? In this case, it was true.” She smiled. “One of the secondary characters—a young woman who played a harlot—knitted scarves for all of us.”
“That was sweet.”
She nodded. “Everyone raved over their costumes. It was wonderful.”
The reason for her pensive stare dawned on me. “And you’re afraid that in comparison the next set will be a nightmare.”
“So far, there isn’t another set.”
“What?” I paused with my water bottle halfway to my lips.
“I don’t have another job lined up yet.”
Usually, by the time one movie wrapped, Mom was already contracted for another. I didn’t know how to express my concern without making her feel worse. I figured it was better to show optimism.
“Enjoy the break,” I said. “You’ll have another job before you know it.”
Was the lack of work the real reason she’d expressed interest in moving to Tallulah Falls and working with a community theater?
“Sure, I will.”
She’d tried to sound convincing, but her words fell a little flat.
“I’m absolutely certain you will, Mom. You’re one of the most talented costume designers in the business. And as soon as word gets out that you aren’t currently working—and are looking for another movie or television show—your phone will be lighting up.”
“Yeah. I know. And I am enjoying my vacation.” She gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m so glad I’m able to be here for your celebration.”
I went over to the sofa and gave her a hug. “I’m happy you’re here too.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Friday morning I woke with a major case of nerves. I hadn’t slept well the night before because I really wanted to sleep well and be rested for the big day. I should’ve simply got up and stayed up for all the good tossing and turning in bed did me. Angus had even deserted me to go sleep in the guest room with Mom.
I took a quick shower, dressed, and styled my hair. I carefully applied my makeup to try to look as if I’d had more than four and a half hours of sleep last night, and then I went downstairs.
I wandered around in the kitchen. I peered into the cabinets, the refrigerator, and then back to the cabinets. Maybe I’d missed something on the first pass, or something had magically appeared since I last checked. I wondered what on earth I could eat without upsetting my already queasy stomach.
The doorbell rang. Out in the backyard where Angus was playing, he sounded the alarm. I didn’t know who in the world would be coming by unannounced this early. Maybe it was Ted. He’d know I’d be feeling nervous this morning. After all, the last time I celebrated my shop, I wound up with a dead body in my storeroom.
I opened the front door. I could barely see the delivery guy behind the spectacular display of red roses, baby’s breath, and sprigs of lavender.
“Are you Marcy Singer?” the man asked.
“Yes, sir. Wait right there.” I traded him a tip for the vase of flowers.
I carried the flowers into the kitchen, set them on the table, and retrieved the card.
Good morning, beautiful. Congratulations on your one-year anniversary with the Seven-Year Stitch. It’s going to be a great day. I love you—Ted.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I quickly dammed them with my index fingers so I wouldn’t ruin my makeup.
It was at that moment that Mom came into the kitchen. “Darling, what are you doing?” Then she noticed the flowers. “Oh, aren’t they gorgeous!”
Well, that made it even harder for me to dam up the tears. I hurried over to the counter and tore a paper towel off the roll and pressed it under my eyes until I could get my emotions under control. When I turned back to Mom, she held out her arms for a hug.
I shook my head. “Not yet. Let me pull myself together first.”
“Why are you such a wreck?” she asked with a bemused grin.
“I could hardly sleep at all last night thinking about today and this evening’s celebration. I mean, you know what happened last year. And then, Ted sent me this beautiful bouquet to let me know he’s thinking about me, and—” I had to put the paper towel back in place.
The doorbell rang again. And, once again, Angus began barking, though not as much as before.
“I bet that’s Ted.”
“I’ll let him in,” Mom said. “You finish pulling yourself together.”
Pulling myself together would be a lost cause as soon as I saw Ted and dissolved into a puddle of goo. Oh, well. I supposed looking well rested wasn’t everything.
From the foyer, I heard Mom’s exclamation of surprise and hurried to see what was going on. It wasn’t Ted but Alfred Benton who was at the door.
“Alfred!” I ran to him and hugged him tightly.
He held me at arm’s length. “Let me look at you, Marcy girl. You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He looked past me. “Just like your mother.”
“Come on into the kitchen,” I said. “I was getting ready to make some coffee.”
“I’m fine,” Alfred said. “Could I speak with your mom alone for a second?”
I looked from Alfred to Mom and back again. “Okay. Um . . . I’ll grab Angus and go on into work. I’m not feeling much like breakfast anyway.”
“Wait until you see the flowers Ted sent her,” Mom told Alfred. “They’re stunning.”
“It sounds as if this young man is getting serious about our girl,” Alfred said. He tried to look stern, and that made me laugh.
But his wanting to talk with Mom alone was deadly serious—I could see it in his eyes. And I was scared.
• • •
On my way to the Seven-Year Stitch, I called Ted to thank him for the flowers. He must’ve been in a meeting because my call went directly to voice mail.
As soon as Angus and I arrived, I took the witch costume off Jill. I thought that in keeping with the name of the shop, I’d outfit her in a white halter dress like the one in Marilyn Monroe’s iconic subway grate photos.
Vera came in before I’d got the mannequin dressed. “Jill! You’re indecent!” She laughed, covered her eyes, and peeped between her fingers.
“She’s almost ready,” I said with
a grin as I pulled the dress down over Jill’s head and zipped the back.
“That looks great,” Vera said. “You know what would make it even better? A tiny fan at her feet to make the dress billow out.”
“I think I have one in my office.”
While Vera played fetch with Angus, I went into my office and got a small pink fan out of the closet.
“Do you think this will work?” I asked.
“Let’s try it.” Vera took the fan, plugged it in at the floor outlet behind the counter, and turned it on.
The dress immediately blew up over Jill’s head. Vera and I succumbed to a fit of giggles.
Vera turned the fan down to its lowest setting, and the effect was just as we’d hoped. The dress blew out and made the skirt full, but it didn’t expose Jill’s unmentionables.
“Where’s Beverly this morning? I hope she’s not feeling bad again.”
“No, actually, Alfred Benton—her attorney and one of our oldest friends—came to my house this morning. He said he’d like to talk with Mom alone. I called him after Mom had her health scare the other night, and she got angry because I did so. But now I’m afraid there’s something really wrong with her . . . something neither of them wants to talk with me about. Why else would he come all the way here?”
Vera looked down at the floor.
“You know, don’t you?” I stepped closer to her. “Whatever it is, she talked to you about it day before yesterday, didn’t she?”
She still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sure she’ll talk with you about it when she’s ready.”
I grasped her arms. “Vera, if you know something, please tell me. Please.”
She slowly raised her eyes. “All right. But you have to swear not to let on like you know.”
“Of course, I won’t let on that I know.” I desperately hoped I could keep that promise. As I examined Vera’s eyes for worry or fear, she gave me an impish grin.
“He kissed her.”
“What? Who? Who kissed who?”
“Alfred kissed your mother.”
“Alfred kissed my mother?” I blinked. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. She talked with Veronica and me about it over cards.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She wasn’t sure how you’d feel about it.” She shrugged. “Heck, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.”
I released Vera, staggered over to one of the club chairs, and sat down. “For years, I’ve wished my mom and Alfred would get together.”
Vera came over and sat on the sofa. “That’s probably why she didn’t tell you, hon. She didn’t want to get your hopes up if things didn’t work out.”
“Was this kiss a onetime thing, or did Mom talk like the relationship was going somewhere?”
“From the way she was mooning over that man, I’d say she’s been in love with him for years,” said Vera.
“Then why did it take them so long to do something about it?”
“Sometimes people don’t realize how deep their feelings are until—bam!—they get hit with them like a pie in the face. And, too, she didn’t want a fling to ruin a lifelong friendship and business relationship.”
“So Mom thinks this . . . thing . . . with Alfred would only be a fling?” To me, that was sad. I didn’t want the special relationship they shared to be turned into something fleeting. I wanted theirs to be a love they would cherish for the rest of their lives—just like their friendship had always been.
“I don’t think so, hon. But I believe she’s afraid of her feelings.”
“Me too,” I said softly. “I know it sounds selfish, but Alfred has been like a surrogate dad to me since I was a little girl. I don’t want to lose him because he and Mom have suddenly made their relationship awkward.”
“Well, that’s between the two of them. I don’t think Alfred would stop loving you if he severed ties with your mother. I believe he’d still be a part of your life. And, if he wouldn’t, then he’s not the man you think he is.”
Vera had an excellent point, and I told her so.
“Thanks, kiddo. I’d have been a great mom, don’t you think?”
“I know you would have.” I gave her a hug.
“Is there anything I can help you do before I leave?”
“Nope. I think I have everything under control,” I said. “I’m excited about tonight, but I’m also a nervous wreck.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled brightly. “History wouldn’t be so ordinary as to repeat itself, would it?”
“I certainly hope not.”
• • •
I spent the first half of the day waiting on regular customers as well as my favorite visitors. Sadie brought me a low-fat vanilla latte with cinnamon and a pumpkin muffin from MacKenzies’ Mochas. Todd brought a six-pack of apricot ale for the anniversary party—or the after-party. He said it was whatever I wanted to do.
And Reggie brought me a beautiful midnight blue silk blouse on which she’d embroidered the collar and cuffs with chikankari. For the second time already today, I was so overcome with emotion that I nearly cried. I promised her I’d wear the blouse to the party tonight. She acted modest, but I could tell she was touched by my praise of both her thoughtfulness and her workmanship.
I was ringing up a hardanger embroidery kit for a woman when Mom and Alfred came into the Stitch. Angus ran to greet them. I completed the customer’s transaction and invited her to attend the anniversary celebration this evening. She said she’d try to attend.
Mom and Alfred took a seat in the sit-and-stitch square. I slowly walked over to join them.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I realize I probably alarmed you this morning when I told you I wanted to speak with your mother alone, especially given your concern over her health,” said Alfred. “I apologize if that’s the case.”
“That was the case. I was afraid you’d come to discuss her living will or something.” I crossed my arms. “So which of you wants to tell me what’s going on?”
“I will,” Mom said. “You know what close friends Alfred and I have been over the years.”
“The best of friends,” Alfred added.
“And we’ve decided . . .” She looked at him and then back at me. “We’ve decided to see if there might be something more there . . . between us.”
Alfred cleared his throat. “How do you feel about that, Marcy?”
“I feel like it’s about time.” I uncrossed my arms and stood.
Mom and Alfred stood too, and we all hugged.
“Just . . . if this . . . romance . . . doesn’t work out,” I said, “please don’t throw away what you had before.”
“We won’t,” Alfred said. “That’s what we’ve been discussing at your house.”
“We plan to move slowly,” Mom said. “We’re not going to rush into anything.”
“Except lunch.” Alfred grinned. “We’re heading off down the street to get something now. May we bring you something?”
“No,” I said. “Ted should be here soon.”
Mom hugged me again. “We’ll talk more later.”
I nodded.
I had to smile as I watched them walk hand in hand down the street. They looked like a couple of kids. Why did it take them so long to find each other when they’d been right there together all along?
When Ted came in a few minutes later, he’d brought fettuccine Alfredo for three. He’d thought Mom would be there.
“Thank you for thinking of her, but she and Alfred Benton are having lunch at MacKenzies’ Mochas.”
“Okay. Well, Angus, this is your lucky day.”
Angus thumped his tail on the floor.
“Did you know Alfred was coming?” Ted asked.
“No. I was totally surprised when he was the second visito
r at my door this morning.” I leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you again for the flowers.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m sorry I didn’t get time to call you back, babe. I’ve been in one meeting after another.”
“I understand. Anyway, Alfred showed up totally out of the blue and said he wanted to speak with Mom alone. It scared the dickens out of me. I thought he was here about her health problems.”
“But that’s not it, is it?”
“No. He and Mom are now officially seeing each other.” I opened my box of fettuccine.
“That’s fantastic!” He watched my expression carefully. “Right?”
“I think so. I’m trying to be optimistic about it, Ted, but what if this doesn’t work out? Mom and I could both lose Alfred forever. And he’s been a huge part of my life since my father died.”
Ted broke a breadstick in half and gave part of it to Angus. “They know what they’re doing, sweetheart. They’re mature enough to handle whatever happens. If a romance isn’t in the cards for them, then they’ll be able to go back to being friends.”
“I don’t know. Mom is going through some stuff right now. I’m not sure where her head is at.” I twirled some noodles around my fork and took a bite.
“What’re you talking about? You mean, her health scare?”
“That’s part of it, I think, but it’s more than that. She confided to me last night that she doesn’t have another job lined up. She even asked a couple of days ago if Tallulah Falls has a community theater group.”
“Don’t you think she was kidding?”
“That’s what scares me. I don’t think she was.” I bit my lip. “I feel like she’s worrying about her usefulness, her attractiveness, her purpose. I don’t want her to project those needs onto Alfred and hope he can solve all her problems. These are issues she has to resolve within herself.”
“Are you afraid she won’t get another job?” Ted asked.
