Lisa
so if you change your mind, the application is open for another month :)
Crystal
ok, thanks
Crystal
did you get your tickets for thanksgiving yet?
Lisa
yeah bryan finally got the vacation days approved
Crystal
looking forward to seeing you :)
Lisa
same! :)
Crystal
kinda going nuts here
Lisa
aw i bet
Crystal
mom talks like ALL THE TIME
Crystal
and even when i’m trying to work she’s talking to herself
Crystal
so i keep thinking she’s talking to me, and it’s super distracting
Lisa
:(
Lisa
have you thought about going to a coffee shop or something?
Crystal
hmm that could work
Crystal
but i’d have to order something cheap like tea
Crystal
funds are kind of an issue
Lisa
sure
Lisa
sorry gotta run
Lisa
i’ve got the dentist at lunch and then packing for the NYC trip
Lisa
i’ll be out all next week
Crystal
oh right! have a great time
Crystal
take some cheesy tourist photos for me
Lisa
will do
Lisa
ttyl
Text Messages, October 21
Mom
On my way home!
Crystal
Ok
Mom
I’m going to drop off this paperwork and then head out to the craft store.
Mom
Would you like to come with?
Crystal
Do you need help?
Mom
Not really.
Mom
Just deciding on packing materials, and getting some ideas for my farmers’ market booth. There are so many choices…it’s a bit overwhelming.
Crystal
Would you like company?
Mom
You don’t need to come
Crystal
I can be showered and ready in 20 minutes.
Mom
Great!
Text Messages, October 23
Mom
I have a surprise for you!!
Mom
It’s a BOGO coupon for the frozen yogurt place!!!
Mom
Do you want to go today?
Crystal
sure
Crystal
what time?
Mom
How about 3 p.m.?
Crystal
sounds good
Mom
Do you mind if we stop at the craft store on the way? I want to look at ribbons.
Crystal
ok
Mom
Although I should probably look at flowers, too…do you mind?
Crystal
sure
Mom
You mean you do mind or you don’t mind?
Crystal
i don’t mind
Text Messages, October 24
Mom
Can you please clean the bathroom today?
Crystal
sure
Mom
The rags are in the laundry closet
Crystal
ok
Mom
And the all-purpose cleaner is under your sink
Crystal
ok
Mom
Actually I need it first to clean the kitchen sink
Mom
It’ll be free in 15 minutes
Crystal
yeah I was hoping to eat breakfast first
Mom
I guess 7:30 is a little early for you! Hehe!
Crystal’s Journal, October 25
I’m exhausted. I didn’t think it was possible to be this tired when I’m still technically unemployed. Mom is around all the time, so I’ve been staying up late to write my novel. Unfortunately, Mom always seems to have some noisy chores to start before 8 a.m. (vacuuming, blending, sealing boxes with packing tape), so I haven’t been getting enough sleep.
Mom’s business hasn’t even been registered a week, but she’s determined to start selling her marshmallows at the farmers’ market next Sunday. Most people would take at least a month or two, but she’s chomping at the bit. I’m not sure why, exactly, but I suspect it has something to do with Grace. She keeps muttering her name under her breath, almost like it’s some sort of curse.
For some strange reason, Mom seems to think that Grace has set some arbitrary standard for farmers’ market quality, and Mom is determined not to be shown up. So if Grace has an “artisanal feel” to her stand, we must, too. Mom and I have been driving all over town to get tablecloths, packaging, gift wrap, ribbons, fake flowers that don’t look fake, and a bunch of other junk. She’s treating it like there’s some sort of exam, and someone’s going to be judging them on who’s more “artisanal.”
I hate to break it to you, Mom, but soap and marshmallows are two different things. I tried to gently explain to her that marshmallows aren’t more appealing when gift-wrapped in raffia, but she’d have none of it. “We can’t just sell them in plain plastic cartons,” she said. “They’ll look like gas station takeout!”
And so the craft store frenzy continues.
I honestly thought I’d be able to find some time to write while Mom worked on her business stuff, but I’ve somehow been unwittingly recruited as her assistant. She’s so stressed out lately, and then she gets that desperate tone in her voice, “I just need some help here!” She acts like she just needs me to hold down a finger while she gift-wraps a box of marshmallows, but then it’s like I’m pulled into the Bermuda Triangle of chores.
Somehow I find myself unloading the dishwasher, making her tea, or running flashcards with her for the food manager’s course. And next week she’s booked four hours at the commercial kitchen, but she’s all hyped up about how it’s not going to be enough time. I could tell that she really wanted an extra hand, so I volunteered. It’s supposed to be a one-time thing, but I’m worried that it won’t be. I don’t mind helping her get started, but it seems like she might get used to having me around, and then it’ll be hard for her if I’m not. Marshmallows are a sticky business, and from the few test batches I’ve helped with already, it definitely helps to have an extra set of hands.
I don’t think it’s unreasonable for Mom to ask me to help. I mean, she is letting me live here, rent-free. And sometimes we even have fun, like when we went out to soft serve on the way home the other day. It’s just that I was told that I could have the place to myself for 8+ hours every weekday, while Mom was at work. It was supposed to be a way for me to take some time off and write. But now it’s like I’m Mom’s unpaid assistant, and I only get to write in the dead of night, when I’m already exhausted.
I want to support her, but if I’d known it was going to be like this, I would’ve taken some sort of minimum-wage job instead. Because at least then I could clock in and out, and leave my work behind. But lately it’s like I’m her full-time help and her full-time therapist, and my writing is getting sidelined. I’m not sure any of my writing is any good right now, but I guess something is better than nothing, right?
I just hope something is salvageable. I don’t think I could bear to start over again.
Return to the Tower, Page 122
The festival was one day away. Rapunzel’s week had passed in a flurry of activity, bottling potions, pressing flowers, baking cookies, and practicing her harp. Dame Gothel had a stall at the market each year, and always returned with an empty cart and bulging pockets. In years past, Rapunzel had been content to remain at home whil
e her mother did the selling. This year, however, Dame Gothel insisted that Rapunzel take part.
“We’re sure to draw quite the crowd this year,” her mother said. Dame Gothel had assigned Rapunzel the role of harpist, to help draw people to their stall. This suited Rapunzel fine, as she was more at ease plucking the harp than wooing potential customers.
Ever since she’d returned from the palace, Dame Gothel had given Rapunzel one project after the next, and she barely had room to breathe. Her mother remained ever cheerful, but Rapunzel had quickly realized that the frenzy was just a ploy to take her mind off the prince. It was nearly working, except now that the festival was almost upon them, it was nearly impossible not to think of him.
Rapunzel knew it was unlikely to run into the prince at the market. He had servants to do his shopping, and his father would never let him roam such crowded streets. If he were recognized, his very life would be at stake. And yet, she couldn’t deny that she felt a creeping dread as the festival drew near. The tower was stifling, but she’d left her heart in the capital, and she preferred it stay there. To return now, with her wounds still so fresh…it was daunting, to say the least.
And her mother wasn’t helping.
Just this morning, Rapunzel was lying in her bed, thinking of how she’d get ready for market day. She was exhausted after weeks of sewing and baking and bottling and practicing, and she wanted nothing more than to rest up for the big day. But she’d been neglecting herself, and she’d be ashamed to be seen like this among the sophisticated city crowd.
Her hair needed to be washed, dried, and brushed. Her best dress needed mending, and she needed to replace the missing button on her cloak. She had no servants to help her with elaborate hairstyles, but she could braid it well enough on her own. Rapunzel couldn’t transform herself into a princess, but at least she would look presentable.
Suddenly, Dame Gothel burst into the room, and before Rapunzel could utter as much as a “Good Morning,” her mother had laid out a list of chores a mile long.
“Breakfast is on the table,” said her mother. “I’ll need you downstairs as soon as you’re dressed.”
Dame Gothel looked tired, but Rapunzel was tired, too. She simply couldn’t bear the thought of another day spent bottling various tonics and following her mother’s laundry list of chores. The cart was already full to bursting, and Rapunzel was likely to make the trip buried in handicrafts.
“Sorry, Mother,” she said to Dame Gothel.
Her mother paused in the doorway. “Beg your pardon?”
She knew Dame Gothel had heard her. This was simply her way of giving Rapunzel a chance to take it back. Normally, Rapunzel would reconsider. And on an ordinary day, she might relent. But not today. This was her only chance to make herself presentable.
“I can’t today,” said Rapunzel. She met her mother’s gaze. “I already have plans.”
Rapunzel had been working for weeks on end. A day off shouldn’t have been too much to ask.
Dame Gothel moved to the bed, her face unreadable. She perched lightly on the corner of it, and smoothed her skirts.
“Rapunzel, dear,” she said. “You never said you had plans.”
Of course she hadn’t. She didn’t think she’d need to. Rapunzel wasn’t a child anymore; her time should’ve been her own. And yet to Dame Gothel, she was still a little girl, locked in a tower.
“I need to mend my cloak and my best dress,” said Rapunzel. At Dame Gothel’s inquiring expression, she added, “And wash my hair.”
Almost immediately, Rapunzel knew she’d said too much. A shadow passed over Dame Gothel’s face, and just for a moment, Rapunzel saw a hint of the anger, hurt, and betrayal that lay just beneath the surface. Dame Gothel might appear a magnanimous and cheerful matron, but Rapunzel knew better. Her mother’s perpetual cheerfulness came at a cost, and Rapunzel had been foolish enough to provoke it.
“I-I didn’t mean…” stammered Rapunzel.
“I understand,” said Dame Gothel, in a threatening tone. “I feed and clothe and shelter you, but today, you simply have more important things to do than help your mother.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I never should’ve asked for your help. I can handle it on my own. Of course, I should’ve known you’d be busy today, washing your hair.”
“Mother, please, I—”
“That’s perfectly alright,” said her mother. “You just stay up here and make yourself pretty. I can handle the rest on my own. I just hope you aren’t too ashamed to be seen with your shabby mother.”
“That’s not what I—” began Rapunzel.
But Dame Gothel had already slammed the door.
Rapunzel sighed. Dame Gothel would now be alone downstairs, taking her anger out on the chores and stewing in her martyrdom. There was only one way to solve this.
“I’ll be right down, Mother,” she said.
Please, God, let me get through market day without seeing William, she prayed. She could deal with the scorn of anyone but him.
Text Messages, November 4
Mom
HAVE YOU SEEN MY SPARE RAFFIA
Mom
Sorry got stuck on capitals! Hehe!
Crystal
i thought you put it in the front closet
Mom
It’s not there.
Crystal
maybe it’s here in the bedroom closet?
Mom
Can you check?
Crystal
not here
Mom
I still have 20 boxes to wrap!!
Crystal
hang on
Mom
The craft store closed two hours ago!! I can’t debut at the market with only a handful of boxes. People would think I’m unprofessional!
Crystal
it’s here, under the bed
Mom
Can you bring it here?
Crystal
yep
Mom
And if you have a minute, can you help me wrap a few?
Crystal
yep
Margot’s Journal, Sunday November 5
Today was my debut at the farmers’ market! It was a long day, but I think it went well. We got there with plenty of time to set up, and I think the displays looked quite nice (if I do say so myself). I put out our two types of marshmallows (regular and vegan), and had rustic-looking crates to display them. We also got some lovely daisies and hydrangeas, so everything was white and yellow and pale blue. I had a nice periwinkle tablecloth, and all of the marshmallow boxes were tied up in raffia. Crystal said it reminded her of a countryside picnic, and I have to agree!
A lot of people came by. They didn’t say anything about the decorations. (I guess they expect it, but it still would’ve been nice to hear, as people compliment Grace on her stand all the time.) We did get our first sale! Just one for today, but still, it’s a good start. We sold a box of vegan marshmallows to a woman who lives out in Oceanside. She had a sister who eats vegan, and she wanted to make s’mores at a campfire on the beach. She was so nice that I gave her a discount. Hopefully business will spread through word of mouth and we’ll get more customers next week!
I was so busy that I didn’t have much time to shop the market. Crystal offered to watch the stand so I could pop down to get my organic beets and kale from the place on the corner. I was surprised to see that Grace’s booth had moved to the center, and she called me over when she saw me. I hardly recognized the place, because she had redecorated the whole thing. It was all in shades of white. She used to have a more rustic feel, but now it was very modern-looking, which, honestly, was a little off-putting. I rather liked the raffia on her soaps, but she told me that she switched to the white ribbon because the raffia was starting to feel “dated.” I don’t know where she gets these ideas, but the whole thing felt like some trendy spa shop, not like a farmers’ market stall. The whole place was crammed with people, which made it very unapproachable and hard to look.
Grace was supportive when I told her how I was taking a break from my job and was now a vendor at the market. She walked with me to our stall, and promised to buy some marshmallows next week (she was out of cash today). She complimented me on the lovely flowers and couldn’t believe they were silk. Before she left, she also invited me and Crystal to the HHHA San Diego Charity Wine Tasting. I guess they’re holding it at the zoo this year, since they are the chief beneficiary of the funds. It seems an odd place to have a bunch of adults dressed up and drinking, but I suppose it’ll be interesting. I’m quite busy lately, so I didn’t promise anything, but I told her I’d check my calendar.
Overall, I think it was a good first day at the farmers’ market. Even though we didn’t sell as many boxes as I expected, I’m still going to keep my appointment at the commercial kitchen this week. It’ll be good to have extra stock on hand, because the holidays are coming up, and I’m sure they’ll be flying off the shelves in no time. Who doesn’t want s’mores for the holidays?
Gratitudes:
I am grateful that I am now an official vendor at the farmers’ market.
I am grateful for my first customer.
I am grateful to have friends like Grace who support me.
Email, November 6
From: Peggy Hemmingway
To: Margot Hemmingway
Subject: Took a spill
Dear Margot,
How is San Diego? We had an ice storm here last week…took a little spill…fractured my hip …not sure yet how long the recovery will be…might need surgery.
Rosalie mentioned that Grace found a nice young man recently…Philip from Carlsbad. A lawyer, I believe. Hope you are getting out enough…seems there are plenty of fish in the sea. Sounds like Eric Robertson is getting a divorce for sure now…bet someone nice will snap him up soon.
Grace also mentioned that you were selling treats at the farmers’ market and something about taking time off from work. Is all well at the office?
Was wondering if you might be able to help with some of my HHHA holiday fundraiser duties. It’s been a rough year for the Northfield gals…passing of several relatives, a mortgage foreclosure, and multiple surgeries…the whole nine yards. I’d just need a hand with some phone calls and whatnot, if you can spare a couple of hours a week.
Mom's Perfect Boyfriend Page 8
