Better Than Your Dreams

by Dee Ernst

  I nodded again. “But how did that happen? In three months?”

  He leaned across the table and kissed me. “I’ll explain that to you later. Now, what about tonight?”

  “Steaks? Wine? More getting naked?”

  He laughed. “Mona, you’ve just made me an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “Not funny,” I called after him as he left.

  I heard Aunt Lily come down the stairs. I poured myself more coffee and watched her as she made her usual—one egg over easy, two slices of wheat toast.

  “Is that what you make for Vinnie for breakfast?” I asked.

  “Vinnie has cholesterol issues. Poor man. He’s also hypertensive and needs to watch his sugar. Other than that, he’s in pretty good shape for his age.”

  “So are you. And I have to tell you again, you look great.”

  She beamed. “It’s love, Mona. He has changed my life.”

  “I don’t get why you feel the need to marry him,” I said slowly.

  “You mean instead of just shacking up? Well, we talked about it, but really, we’re too old for that nonsense. When you love a person, you marry them.”

  “But sometimes marriage isn’t such a good thing.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes as she ate; then she patted her lips with her napkin. “Mona, you had a lousy marriage, so I can understand why you’re a little prickly on the subject. But I had nothing but happy years with your uncle Larry. I loved being married. I can’t wait to do it again.”

  “You’re lucky,” I said softly, and watched as she carefully put her dishes in the dishwasher. She wiped her tiny spot on the table and took her coffee cup with her as she left.

  I looked at the time. I had a bus to catch to Manhattan. I’d given up driving there after 9/11, when they closed the Port Authority parking. These days I didn’t have the energy to drive in myself and spend hours looking for a place to park.

  I had a late lunch with my agent, Sylvia Snow, a tough, beautiful African-American woman whom I worshiped for her ability rather than loved for her personality. Ours was not a warm and fuzzy relationship, although I could probably call her my friend.

  We got the personal stuff out of the way in the first six minutes. Then she whipped out her leather notepad and started looking through her notes.

  “We won’t hear anything about the movie for at least another few months,” she said. “But you knew that.”

  “Yes. I need some money. I have two manuscripts finished.”

  She sipped her coffee. “Tell me.”

  “A romantic comedy. Older protag, a little sweet sex, happy ending. The other is more women’s fiction. Widow takes in a foster kid and develops a relationship with the kid’s uncle. I love it. No easy answers, not really a happy ending, but hopeful.”

  “Sound great. And we should have no trouble getting a contract. But those sound like Mona Quincy books. What about Maura Van Whalen—what about a romance?”

  I leaned forward. “Here’s the thing. I’m not sure I want to continue writing as Maura.”

  She looked up. “Mona, Maura Van Whalen has made both of us a lot of money over the years.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “You used to publish one of her books every ten months. Your readers still have expectations.”

  I sighed. “I know that too. You should read some of the e-mails I get.”

  “I hate to sound like a cliché, but you’d be killing off a cash cow here.”

  Maura Van Whalen was a pen name, and I had written several well-received and nicely profitable romances under it. But I was pulling away from historical romance. My heart wasn’t in it anymore. I wanted to write more straight fiction.

  I continued. “It’s not like I want to abandon Maura completely. I’m thinking about trying self-publishing. Remember last year, when I asked you to get some of my backlist back? What do you think?”

  She’d been writing in her little notebook but stopped and leaned back. “Really?”

  I’d discussed this in my head so many times, I felt pretty comfortable saying the words out loud. “I need the money, and I don’t want to wait to get it. I have someone who can do the formatting, redesign all the old covers. I can release one every three months or so.”

  She looked thoughtful. “Self-publishing isn’t as easy as everyone makes it sound. There’s a lot of work. I could try to get you a digital-only deal, if you like.”

  I shook my head. “No, Sylvia. I told you, I need the money, and I’ll make more on my own—and faster—if I do it myself. I don’t mean to cut you out, but there it is.”

  She shrugged. “You know I want what’s best for you, which is why I’ve worked to get those titles for you. As you know, I’ve gotten eight titles back so far. And you also know I always want a piece of whatever you do, but I understand.”

  I nodded. “Yes. I know. Are we good?”

  She nodded. “Certainly. I’d love more Maura titles, but let’s face it, you haven’t released anything new in almost two years. In the world of romance, that’s a death knell. Women’s fiction can get away with one book a year, and after the sales of Better Off Without Him, we should be in a good place. Let me get to work on a contract for the new stuff. And I’ll e-mail you those titles so you can start to do whatever.” She looked at me. “This is a surprise. My younger writers are doing this self-pub quite a lot. I had no idea you were so savvy.”

  I laughed. “I’m not. But I spent over a year in the land of impossible dreams. I learned lots. And not just about screenwriting.”

  She smiled. “Smart lady.”

  My cell phone rang. I would have ignored it, but I saw that it was Ben.

  “Ben, what’s up? Can you still make it?”

  “Yes, of course I can. But David just called. He’s on his way down and says he has something important to talk to me about. He asked if he could have dinner with us.”

  David was a very good-looking young man who had graduated from Yale last year and taken a job in finance right outside of Boston. I liked David—a lot. Besides being smart, he had Ben’s sweet temper and kindness. And I knew that the two of them were very close. My desire to spend an evening alone with Ben collided with my parental understanding that when a kid wants to talk to you about something important, you drop everything and listen.

  “Of course. I’ll get extra steaks.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s hope David’s problem is something that we can talk out before dessert. Is it money?”

  “I don’t think so. God, I hope not. What if he lost his job?” Ben sounded worried. I pictured him, his wide forehead wrinkled in a frown.

  “Maybe he’s met a girl,” I teased.

  “You know, maybe he has. He’s been pretty silent on that subject for the past few months.”

  “Ah, true love. See you tonight.”

  I hung up and glanced at Sylvia. “Sorry.”

  “No problem. I completely understand.” She grinned. “True love.”

  Indeed.

  When I got home, Miranda’s car was parked in the driveway. So was Jessica’s.

  Okay—it was a Friday afternoon. Miranda, I knew, had no classes at all on Fridays, and she had been known to drive home to Westfield just to do laundry for free. Jessica had physics lab on Friday morning and often started her weekend by noon. But neither of them told me they were coming home. Something else had prompted their appearance. I thought for a moment that I had died in some alternate universe. Why else would they be home without telling me?

  As I raced in through the kitchen door, my heart fell even more—I heard Lauren laughing. Lauren’s presence required a train trip, then a bus trip.

  I turned into the den, and there they were, my three beautiful, loving daughters. I stared at them, barely breathing.

  “Who’s pregnant?”

  They all turned and stared at me like I was totally insane.

  “Mom?” Lauren said. “Why would you say that?”

  My pur
se slid from my hand to the floor. I shrugged out of my jacket, and that, too, fell to the floor. “Three days ago I asked each of you to come home this weekend. Each of you said no. Something has happened in the past few days to change all of your minds, and it would have to be big. Really big. One of you has news. And it can’t be good. I know a wall of solid support when I see it.”

  Miranda got up off the couch and hugged me. “It’s my news, Mom. And it’s wonderful, really. Sit.”

  I allowed her to lead me to the couch, and I sat down next to her.

  “You’re not pregnant?”

  She shook her head. “No. But I want to get married.”

  My jaw dropped open. She was glowing with happiness, her smile wide and open and beautiful.

  “Miranda, honey, I didn’t even know you were dating anybody!” Silently I sighed in relief. Of course she wanted to get married. She’d wanted that since she was old enough to realize that a wedding was the ultimate in dressing up. “How did this happen? How did you meet somebody, get to know him, fall in love, and decide to marry him without ever telling me about it? Oh, God, this isn’t another three-month miracle, is it?”

  She looked startled. “Okay, that’s scary. How did you know?”

  “How did I know what?”

  “That we’ve only been dating three months?”

  “Seriously? I was joking. Lily just announced that she’s getting married. To someone she met three months ago.”

  Was this an epidemic? First Lily, whom I could almost excuse, because let’s face it, Lily did crazy things sometimes. Now Miranda? She was barely twenty-two. What did she know about men and love and life that she could fall in love so fast? It seemed like every woman around me couldn’t wait to get hitched. And here I was, dragging my feet because I was so afraid of getting stuck in the same kind of marriage I had with Brian.

  “Ah, Mom?”

  I grabbed both her hands. “Okay, so tell me. Who is this guy?”

  Her smile returned. “Oh, yes. He’s so sweet, Mom. Really. One of the nicest men ever. And he’s handsome.”

  “Really handsome,” Jessica said.

  I glanced over at her. “You’ve met him?” I asked.

  Jess nodded. “Well, yeah.”

  “Me too,” said Lauren. “And Miranda’s right; he’s very nice.”

  “How did you all manage to meet him in three months?” I asked. Now I was really confused, not to mention just a bit pissed off about being so obviously left out of the loop.

  “Oh…” Miranda looked casually around the room, anything to keep from looking me in the eye. “Well, we met briefly about four years ago. We kind of kept running into each other, and I thought he was cute, but you know…and then three months ago we met again and things started to get serious. Fast. Not just for me, but for him, too. We were thinking about moving in together, but then thought hey, we love each other, we’re good together, why not get married?”

  My mind was racing. Okay, she was just about the same age I was when I got engaged to Brian. She was graduating in a few months and had a good chance of getting a job. That was all good, right? Besides, they wouldn’t be getting married right away. A two- or three-year engagement would give me plenty of time to properly vet this person.

  “Will he be graduating too?” I asked. After all, whoever this guy was, he’d better be able to pull his weight.

  Miranda nodded happily. “He graduated last year. He’s got a really good job, and he’s already saved a bunch of money for a condo.”

  “Great. So tell me more, like his name, where he’s from, when I can meet him—all the good stuff.”

  “His name is David Cutler,” Miranda said.

  Wait.

  My three daughters were all watching me carefully.

  “And he’s from Montclair,” she continued.

  Ahhh…

  “And he’ll be over tonight. He and Ben are having dinner with us, remember?”

  That David Cutler?

  So…my oldest daughter wanted to marry Ben’s son. She barely had a boyfriend in high school, spent her college career “hooking up” with one boy or another—not that I even wanted to know the details—but now she was serious enough about David to think about marriage? And she had decided this after being with him for just three months?

  And what exactly did that say about me, and the fact that I had to think hard about marrying Ben after four years?

  CHAPTER THREE

  I WAS GLAD I WAS already sitting down.

  “David Cutler?” I asked.

  Miranda nodded.

  I looked over at Lauren. She was supposed to be the sensible one. Or at least, the one least likely to do something outrageous or illegal. I could usually count on her to be a voice of reason.

  Lauren smiled. “Wait until you see them together, Mom. They are so in love.”

  Jessica, my resident cynic, smiled crookedly. “Even I have to admit they’re adorable.”

  I took a long, deep breath, held it, and then exhaled slowly. “Tell me.”

  Miranda bounced closer to me on the couch. “It was at his birthday party. I mean, every time I’d seen him, ever since we first met, I though he was just about perfect. But at the party we just started talking, you know? And then he told me he was living right outside of Boston, so I suggested we meet for coffee, and he said okay, and when we met again we talked, like, forever, and, well, then we saw each other again…” She blushed. “I love him, Mom. Completely. He’s not like any of the other boys I hang around with. He’s the real thing.”

  I wanted to say something, but my throat closed up. I fought back tears. That was what I had always wanted for my daughters—a certainty that, whoever they chose, he was someone special. That was Ben. Ben was the real thing. But Ben and I had known each other for years. We had been friends, then good friends. We had grown into each other. We knew everything about each other. And while I had no doubt that David was enough of his father’s son as to be the best man possible for any of my daughters…three months? They were practically strangers. I’d have to talk them into a very long engagement.

  I cleared my throat, trying to figure out what to say next.

  “Mom,” Lauren said, “we all know what you’re going to say. That Miranda and David don’t know each other very well. That they need time. That this is just lust.”

  I had not wanted to think that at all, but she was right.

  “But, seriously,” she continued. “You need to see them together. They fit. They really do. Just like you and Ben.”

  I glared at Lauren. The thing about her being the sensible one was that she always knew the exact thing to say that would totally shut me down. “Three months,” I said finally, “is not a long time.”

  “But we’ve been together every day,” Miranda said. “And practically every night.”

  Ouch.

  “So, if you figure how most people date each other, and see each other maybe twice a week, David and I just kind of crammed the same amount of dating into a shorter time frame. So, if we were, like, a normal couple, we’d have been dating for almost a year.” Miranda smiled brilliantly.

  “Even a year,” I said, “isn’t a long time. You don’t know him, honey. People are complicated. Sure, everything is hot sex and goo-goo eyes now, but things change.” I took a deep breath. “If you’re determined to get engaged, all I can say is congratulations. We’ll have a celebration tonight. I’ll run out and get more steaks and lots of champagne. Maybe lobster. What the hell, we’ll even call your father and invite him. It isn’t every day my oldest daughter gets engaged to be married!” I leaned over and hugged her tight. “I’m so happy for you, honey. I really am.”

  She kissed me on the cheek. “Oh, Mom, thank you for understanding. Can I really call Dad? You are awesome. But…” She pulled back and looked at me. “We aren’t getting engaged, Mom. We’re getting married. I’m done with school in December, and I’ve already started looking for a job, so a winter wedding? Late Januar
y? Can we put together a wedding in that short a time?”

  “No.”

  She frowned. “No? I was afraid of that. Well, maybe we’ll just have something small—”

  “No.” I could feel a pounding right behind my eyes. “No, you are not getting married in January. Are you out of your mind? It’s one thing to fall in love and be all happy and crazy and want to spend the rest of your life with a total stranger. It’s another thing to actually get married. Not happening.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She rearranged her features into something I recognized and had always hated—the yes-I-will face. “And how, exactly, are you going to stop me?”

  Good question.

  “Can’t you accept the fact that even though I’m your mother, I’m also a fairly smart person who has seen a lot of the world, and I know that three months is not long enough to know a person before marrying them?”

  “That’s how long David’s mom and dad knew each other before they got married,” Miranda said.

  That was true. “Yes, honey, but that was because Ellen was pregnant, and Ben felt he had to marry her.”

  “But they were very happy and loved each other right up until she died,” Miranda countered.

  Damn. That was also true. Ben had often described his first marriage as practically perfect. “Miranda, please. Listen to me. There’s nothing wrong with spending time getting to know somebody. Live with him, if you want, but please wait to get married.”

  “We are going to live together,” she said stubbornly. “For the next two months. And then we’re getting married.”

  Aunt Lily, with her usual perfect timing, swept into the den. “Girls! What a surprise! Yes, I’m getting married; is that what you’re all talking about?”

  Jess jumped up to give Lily a hug. “We just heard, Aunt Lily. You have to tell us all about it. But it’s Miranda we’re talking about.”

  Lily clapped her hands in obvious delight. “Miranda, really? Why, I had no idea you were even involved with anyone. So, spring for you too?”

  “Miranda wants to marry David, Ben’s son,” I explained slowly. “They’ve been dating for about three months.”