Table for Two

by Brandy Bruce

  “You built a fire?” she asked Brian.

  “Mom insisted. She’s drinking tea and resting on the living room sofa. Can you make dinner?”

  Mandy pushed him toward the door. “You know I can. You get back to Samantha. We’ll be fine here.”

  Brian looked skeptical.

  “Go!” Mandy insisted and Brian nodded before ducking out of the house.

  “Amanda, is that you?” her mother called out.

  Here we go.

  Mandy took off her coat and made her way to the living room. “I’m here, Mom. How are you feeling?”

  Her mother pulled the afghan on her lap closer to her chin. “Absolutely terrible. I can’t believe I fell down. My back will be black-and-blue tomorrow. Your father has called every ten minutes, worried as can be. He hadn’t been gone an hour before I slipped out on the deck. It’s so icy out there. I was planning to bring in a few sticks of firewood—you know how I love a roaring fire when it snows—when splat! I’m on the ground.”

  “It happens to everybody, Mom.”

  “It happens to old people, which I guess I am.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes. “Fifty-five is not old, Mom! You know what people say—you’re only as old as you feel.”

  “Perfect. I feel like I’m ninety right now.”

  “I fell down just last week,” Mandy told her. Her mother gave her a very familiar look.

  “Yes, but that’s you, Mandy.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Her mother closed her eyes. “Never mind. I need more painkiller. And are you going to cook?”

  “Sure. What do you want me to make?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’m not that hungry. See what you can find in the cupboard.”

  Mandy ran her fingers over the kitchen island, humming as she opened the cupboard and inspected what there was to eat. The kitchen had always been her favorite room in the house. Her father had specially designed it for her mother. The large kitchen island was surrounded by plenty of cabinets and counter space. A round antique table sat in front of large bay windows, the same place where she and Brian had had breakfast every morning before school.

  The thought of breakfast gave her an idea. Mandy set out a container of cinnamon and the canister of sugar and turned up the heat on the stove before pulling out a carton of eggs and getting to work.

  Thirty minutes later she brought her mother a tray with a stack of warm French toast, complete with powdered sugar and a jar of maple syrup.

  “French toast!” her mother exclaimed in surprise.

  “It sounded good to me,” Mandy said, curling up on the easy chair across from her mom, her plate in her lap, a tall glass of milk on the side table. She knew that French toast was one of her mother’s favorite breakfast dishes.

  “Did you put a little flour in the eggs?” her mother asked.

  “Of course I did, Mom. Who do you think taught me how to make French toast?”

  Mandy could see her mom trying to hide a smile. When her cell phone buzzed, Mandy reached for her phone and froze when she saw Leo’s name come up.

  Having a conversation with Leo while Mom’s within earshot is not happening.

  Mandy silenced her phone and settled back into the easy chair.

  “Who was that?” her mother asked.

  “Just a friend,” Mandy answered.

  “Well, fine. You don’t have to tell me,” her mother huffed. Mandy tried not to roll her eyes. At least, not where her mother could see.

  “Okay, his name is Leo and he’s a new friend of mine.”

  “Leo? Is that Spanish?”

  “Italian. His family’s from Italy. He actually owns an Italian restaurant in Denver.”

  “Well, then, he’s perfect for you.”

  Mandy felt her throat constrict.

  Of course. Because I love to eat so much. It only makes sense that a girl who wears a size ten should end up with a cook.

  “Mom, what do you mean by that?”

  “Oh, Mandy, stop analyzing everything,” her mother waved her off. “Take this to the kitchen, please.”

  Mandy felt tears burning in her eyes but she stubbornly held them off. She took both of their dishes to the kitchen and spent the next twenty minutes loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. When she felt slightly more in control of her emotions, she returned to the living room with a glass of water and more pain reliever for her mother.

  “Can I get you anything else? Do you want me to help you to your bed?” Mandy asked.

  Her mother shook her head. “Not yet. I was just thinking...you know this reminds me of when you and Brian had chicken pox at the same time.”

  Mandy sat back down. “Why?”

  “Because I made you French toast. I remember that Brian kept scratching, even though I told him not to. But you didn’t scratch. And when I asked you what you wanted to eat, you said French toast.”

  Mandy leaned her head back on the chair. “I remember. You took such good care of us.”

  Her mother smoothed the blanket over her. “And here you are, taking care of me. Making me French toast.”

  Mandy hoped this wasn’t about to segue into another example of how her mother felt old.

  “That’s what families do for each other, I guess,” Mandy said.

  “So tell me about Leo,” her mother said. Mandy didn’t want to. She really didn’t want to. But she also didn’t want to ruin this somewhat peaceful moment with her mother.

  “Well, like I said, he owns a restaurant. He’s nice. He’s handsome. I think we’re about the same age. He...has a lot of family responsibilities.”

  “Like what?” her mother pressed. Mandy didn’t want to overshare what Leo had asked her to keep private.

  “His father is a well-known chef, as well, and owns a successful restaurant in Denver, too. Anyway, the restaurant business is very demanding and Leo helps his dad a lot. He’s a hard worker. His faith is important to him. His family is everything to him.”

  “You really like him, don’t you?” her mother asked.

  Mandy hesitated. Sharing things with her mother usually ended badly for her—with her mom bringing things back up at the worst moments.

  “I’m just interested in knowing him better. But I like what I’ve seen so far.”

  “He sounds like a very successful young man.”

  Mandy thought about the stress so evident in Leo’s eyes. “He is. But he works hard for it.”

  Neither of them spoke for a full minute. Her mother’s eyes stayed downward toward the blanket as she finally said, “You know, when I was younger, I wanted to go to culinary school.”

  Is Mom actually sharing something about herself with me? I think I’ve entered the Twilight Zone.

  “You never told me that,” Mandy said softly.

  Her mom shrugged. “It was just a crazy notion I had for a while. I never did anything about it. I suppose I wanted to be Julia Child and learn to cook in Paris.”

  Mandy and her mom both chuckled.

  “What else?” Mandy pressed. Her mom blinked and looked over at her.

  “What else?”

  “What else did you dream about, Mom?”

  Her mom looked at the burning and crackling fire.

  “Well, I always wanted to stand right below the big Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in New York. Silly, I know.”

  Mandy shook her head. “I don’t think that’s silly. I think that sounds wonderful. What else?”

  “Oh, lots of things. I wanted romance and adventure, moments where I felt completely alive. I wanted to see a whale out in the ocean.”

  Mandy smiled.

  “And I wanted to have just one moment where I truly felt God’s favor over
me.”

  Mandy swallowed the lump in her throat. She couldn’t believe that her mom would share that with her.

  “Don’t misunderstand. I’ve felt close to God, I’ve felt Him with me at some of my darkest moments and some of my happiest. But I don’t think I’ve ever felt His favor over me.”

  “Me, either. But I want to,” Mandy said, her words just above a whisper.

  Her mom looked over at her. “What are your dreams, Mandy?”

  The tears that she had held back earlier came forward without warning. Mandy laughed at herself awkwardly and wiped her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” her mom asked, her voice filled with concern.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me, Amanda.”

  Mandy sniffed and tried not to let any more tears escape. “It’s just...that’s the first time you’ve ever asked me that, Mom.”

  Her mom looked down at her hands and didn’t respond. Mandy tried to push past the unease of the moment.

  “But since you have now, I’ll tell you. I dream of feeling comfortable in my own skin. I dream of being a renowned food columnist. I dream of marrying someone who will love me like Dad loves you. I dream of having a daughter of my own one day. I’ll tell her that she’s beautiful, that she’s loved, that she’s everything. I dream of having a house that I can decorate just the way I want. And you know what else?” Mandy said. Her mom lifted her gaze to meet Mandy’s.

  “I have always wanted to see a whale in the ocean.”

  Her mom laughed loudly. “Are you serious?”

  Mandy nodded and laughed with her. Once the laughter ceased, Mandy braved one more question.

  “Mom, when did you give up on your dreams?”

  Her mother closed her eyes. “I don’t know. It just happened. I grew up. Romance and adventure aren’t exactly priorities when you’re busy paying a mortgage and raising children and cooking for the church potluck. Life happens and other things become more important. Baseball games and spelling bees and chickenpox—life was busy.”

  “But it was never enough, was it?” Mandy wondered.

  Her mom’s gaze went back to the fire. Mandy could see the rigidness in her neck. “Looking back—maybe not. In some ways, I think I lost myself along the way. Or I became someone else. There were so many things I’d wanted to do, and time went by so fast. I never accomplished anything.” Her mother’s words were flat and lifeless.

  “How can you say that? You accomplished so many things! You’ve been married for thirty years. You raised two children. Are Brian and I really such a disappointment to you?” Mandy asked, her voice rising. Her mom faced her, looking surprised.

  “Of course not. I’m not disappointed in you.”

  Mandy stood up, unable to stay calm. “Yes, you are! Brian should already have been promoted at work. Brian and Samantha should have had a baby by now. Sound familiar? I’m a size ten instead of a size six. I have a career but no husband or children of my own. I’m nothing special.”

  “Mandy, stop!” her mother shouted over Mandy’s rant. Mandy’s mouth zipped shut. Her chest heaved and tears streamed down her face. Her mother’s eyes were wide in shock.

  “Do you realize how you make me feel? Like I’m not good enough. Like I’m a failure!” Mandy cried before sitting back onto the chair and covering her face with her hands. For several moments the only sounds in the room were of embers popping and Mandy sniffing because her nose was running like a faucet.

  “Mandy, I’m the failure. Not you,” her mother said, her words so quiet they were almost inaudible. She wiped her eyes. “Or I’ve felt like a failure. I have a college degree, but I never had a career. I took care of my husband and my children and while that was my priority and it was a good one—I had dreams for myself beyond that. I look at you—and I see a young, independent woman who has made a name for herself and who is capable of so many things. And you have so much life stretched out before you. So much time.”

  Mandy looked up, taking a moment to find her courage. “Mom, when I look at you, I see a woman with a perfect opportunity to be happy, but she lives in a state of discontentment. I’m at a place in my life where I’m working to support myself. Life doesn’t seem to slow down for me. And I’m not where I thought I’d be at this age. But for you— Dad will retire next year. You’ve made wise financial decisions, and you live in a home that’s paid off. You have the means to travel and experience wonderful things. There are no parenting responsibilities to hold you back anymore. You can do whatever you want. Plan a trip and go whale watching. Sign up for a cooking class at the community college.”

  Mandy took a shaky breath. “Because of your example, I struggle to be contented with my own life. And I don’t want that. I don’t want to always wish I were thinner, to always wish I had a different life, to always be looking for something else. This is me, this is who I am.” Mandy motioned to her body.

  “I don’t think it’s going to get better than this. I’m never going to be beautiful like you. I might not ever be a wife and mother.” At that moment, Mandy had to steady herself because the words hurt to even speak. “But I think I still have value as a person. And I want to live feeling valued, not inferior. I can’t live that way, Mom!” Mandy cried out as another wave of tears rolled down her face.

  Her mother leaned over on the sofa and wept. After a few moments, both women crying, Mandy stood up and walked toward the staircase.

  “Mandy, wait,” her mother said finally. Mandy stopped, her hand on the stair railing, and turned around to look at her mom.

  Amid her tears, her mother said the words that Mandy never thought she’d hear:

  “I’m sorry.”

  Mandy stood, frozen, transfixed by those two simple words.

  “I’m sorry, Mandy,” her mother repeated.

  Mandy somehow knew that the unfamiliar feeling that was stirring inside of her was her heart...perhaps finally beginning to heal.

  Chapter 8

  Leo inspected the produce that filled the kitchen counters—squeezing a tomato to see if it was ripe, smelling a zucchini to ensure it was fresh—all while listening to the banter and joking of his staff throughout the kitchen as they prepped for the dinner rush.

  “So the date last Wednesday was a success, huh?” Angelina winked at him as she set another crate of lettuce on the counter. Leo had asked her to work at the Franklin restaurant for the past few days to help cover some short-staffed shifts. He’d expected to be interrogated about the date as soon as Angelina saw him again.

  Leo grabbed his clipboard to scan the specials menu for that evening and gave Angelina a slight nod.

  “Yes, it went well. I hope to see her again.”

  “Good. I liked her.”

  “Me, too,” Leo responded as he opened the freezer to look over what they had, checking off items on his list. “Angelina,” he called from the freezer. “We need more provolone. I didn’t realize we were so low.”

  “Got it. I’ll make sure we have more for tonight. You know, chef—” Angelina poked her head into the freezer “—you should invite her to dinner with the family.”

  Leo laughed. “I don’t want to scare her off.”

  Angelina punched his shoulder. “We’re a lovable bunch and you know it. Invite her!”

  Leo left his Romano’s and drove to the sister restaurant, considering Angelina’s idea to invite Mandy to dinner. Once a month, his family had a large potluck dinner together, usually at his parents’ home. It had always been his dad’s favorite time to try out new recipes. Family dinner was next Monday.

  Maybe I should invite her.

  Leo had tried to keep Mandy at a respectable distance from his thoughts ever since their date, but that had proved to be impossible. He kept thinking about the way she laughed, the gold flecks in her brown eyes, the way s
he closed her eyes when she tasted something delicious and then insisted Leo try it, as well.

  The way her hand had smelled like honey when he’d kissed it.

  They’d spoken only for a few short minutes when she’d returned his call Friday night, enough time for Mandy to explain that her mother had hurt her back and Mandy would be staying with her in Evergreen for a few days.

  A few days felt too long. It was Monday and he’d wanted to call her every day, but he didn’t want to seem so eager. Then again, maybe she wanted him to call. Maybe the longer he waited to call, the more worried she’d be that he wasn’t interested in pursuing her.

  Leo sighed in frustration. As he locked the car door and walked through the kitchen entrance of the Franklin restaurant, an idea formed in his head. He left the staff in the kitchen and wandered into his father’s office. Leo stopped in the center of the office and looked around. He hadn’t changed a thing since taking over the restaurant.

  Maybe it’s time for me to make some changes.

  But first, Leo sat down and dialed Mandy’s number on his cell phone.

  “Mandy, it’s Leo.”

  “Leo.” The fact that he could almost hear her smile as she said his name brought an automatic smile to his own face.

  “I was thinking—since you’re in Evergreen with your mother, well, I was wondering if I could...” His words stuck in his throat and he coughed.

  “Leo, just tell me,” Mandy said in that calm way of hers that he appreciated.

  “I’d love to come up and cook dinner for you and your mother one evening.”

  Mandy didn’t answer for a moment and Leo’s brow began to sweat.

  It was a stupid idea. I’m basically inviting myself over. Her mom is hurt, the last thing she needs is a stranger coming to her home.

  “You would do that?”

  Mandy’s astonishment made Leo pause.

  “Of course. When would work for you?”