by Maggie Marr
“No!” Adele waved her hand at him like he’d lost his mind. “I leave at five. That’s early.”
“Oh my God, Mom, you’ll never change.”
Dinner waited for them on the conference table. They’d done all of this what felt like a million times since he’d left for college. He’d come home for a visit, the driver would pick him up, he’d have dinner with Mom, go home, and she get there around seven-thirty. Sometimes they left together, though oftentimes when he got in earlier she stayed at the office to work. She was a machine. A type-A machine with a splash of OCD. Her fear and anxiety and desire to make Up Side Burger thrive had only heightened when Dad died. Suddenly Mom had been alone with her decisions, and she’d dug in even deeper, stayed even longer, dedicated herself entirely to the company. He understood that she’d been trying to make the company as strong as possible for when he took over because she’d told him so … frequently.
Adele sat in a chair at the head of the table and Trevor sat to her right. Four platters covered with silver lids rested on the table.
“Your birthday is nearly here.” Her smile was hopeful. “Does your early return mean you’re excited to start running Up Side Burger?”
His face froze. There had been arguments, harsh words, slammed doors, and hard feelings on both sides because he didn’t want to run Up Side Burger. His gaze caught his mother’s face. Her eyebrows lifted, her eyes expectant, an air of hopefulness surrounded her. He would not ruin their reunion, not right this moment.
“What’ve you got here?” He took the handle of the silver lid over his plate. His mother’s shoulders sagged. She knew he was dodging her question, but Adele decided to play along as well.
“I had Chef Jeffrey try out a new possibility. A veggie burger.”
Trevor hesitated. Up Side Burger didn’t change their menu. Ever. His family stuck with what worked. Sure, they tweaked and modified the menu to make everything they sold perfect, but there hadn’t been an addition to the Up Side Burger menu in twenty-six years.
“People are changing how they eat. Less meat, more plant-based foods. You’re the one who brought that to my attention.” Adele shook out her linen napkin and placed it on her lap. “The kitchens have been working on this since you …” Adele paused, it was like she could barely say the word. “Since you left,” she whispered. “This is the best one they’ve come up with. At least that’s what our focus groups say.”
“You’ve been taste-testing and using a focus group?”
Adele nodded.
The very fact that his mother was this far along meant that Adele was determined to place a vegetarian option on the Up Side Burger menu. Wow. Trevor lifted the silver lid to reveal a huge burger. The bun was a traditional Up Side brioche. The patty even looked Up Side. Thick and big with grilled onions and melted cheese, his mouth watered. “Is that vegan cheese?” He slid his gaze toward his mom.
She nodded and picked at her salad with her fork. “He used almonds, I think.”
“Wow.” Trevor lifted the burger. The rich aroma caused his mouth to water. “This looks amazing.” A smile teased the corner of Adele’s mouth. She could say what she wanted about vegetarians and people eating more plant-based foods, but this burger was a peace offering. He took a bite. Rich meaty flavor cascaded through his mouth. The consistency was thick and satisfying. The cheese was gooey awesomeness.
“Mom, this is fantastic.” Trevor set down the burger and looked at this mother. “Maybe the best veggie burger I’ve ever had.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Her face bloomed into a smile. “Would you write up your thoughts for Jeffrey? He’s really gotten behind the idea of a veggie burger, and he knows what he wants the burger to taste like, but at his core he’s a meat eater. He’s really looking forward to hear what you thought about it.”
“I think it’s fantastic.” Trevor bit into the veggie burger again and the tang of grilled onions and the rich taste of faux cheddar cheese zinged his taste buds.
“I was surprised you decided to come home early.” Adele picked at her non–Up Side Burger salad as he ate. She was as fastidious about her diet and calorie consumption as she was every other aspect of her life. She looked up and her gaze latched on to him.
“I got my shifts covered and just thought I’d come home.”
She wiped her napkin over her mouth and took a sip of her tea. “Should I take this as a good sign?” She asked, a hopeful smile on her lips. “That you know your birthday is around the corner and you’ve accepted the deadline and you’re ready to take over?”
Trevor closed his eyes. He pressed his lips together. The final bite of his burger lay before him and now … now he simply wasn’t hungry anymore. He grasped a napkin and wiped his hands. “Mom …” He shook his head. There was no good way to say any of this to her, no way that she wouldn’t think his decision foolish and immature. He was about to break her heart.
“I can’t run Up Side Burger.”
Adele sighed. She put down her fork and her gaze settled on Trevor. “You’re giving up your entire future if you turn your back on Up Side Burger. Not only that, but you’re forcing a sale of a privately held company. You understand the terms of the trust that was established by your father’s will. You know what happens if you decline to take over.”
He pressed his eyelids closed. “There has to be a way. There has to be something we can do to change the terms that will allow you to stay on and run—”
“Trevor, I don’t want to stay on.” Adele’s voice was stern, her words clear. “I’ve been running the company the last nine years for you and for our family’s legacy. Before your father died, I helped him because he needed the help, and to be honest, it was the only way I could see him. He was a complete workaholic, like his father before him. When he passed, I knew the only choice for me was to run Up Side until you took over.” Adele set her fork beside her plate.
“I thought you’d take over the company sooner. I’d hoped it would be when you finished your MBA, but I understood when you said you needed time.” She took a drink of her water. “Now your birthday is a month away, you’re back, and it’s time for you to run the company.” She looked pointedly at Trevor. “You know the terms. If you don’t take over by your birthday, we’ll be forced to go public and you’ll receive nothing from the sale.”
Trevor leaned back in his chair. “I love writing. I’m not an executive, I’m an artist. I can’t run Up Side.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Adele rose and walked toward her desk. She lifted a picture of her and Trevor’s dad on their wedding day.
“Your father had dreams.” Adele traced the frame with her fingertip. “Other things he wanted to do with his life, but he gave them up for you and for the family.” She turned toward Trevor. “You know he was a classical pianist. He had perfect pitch, was an amazing musician. What do you think Grandpa Brice thought of the idea of your father foregoing a career at Up Side Burger to become a musician?”
Trevor closed his eyes. These family stories had been repeated to him his entire life. How Grandpa Brice had nearly lost his mind when Dad went to him and told him that he was leaving Los Angeles for New York. Grandpa had disowned Dad, had sent him away without a dime. Had said, go play your music, but don’t come back. Then Dad met Mom in a club in Brooklyn where he was playing two nights a week for free meals.
“Why was he struggling like that? Why did he want to? The whole thing was ridiculous. He came back and he was happy. He never regretted making his music a hobby and focusing on Up Side.” Adele turned to Trevor. “He was happy. We were happy. Once you were born, he understood even more what he was working for and why his own father worked so hard.” Adele set the picture back on her desk. “Taking over Up Side isn’t a sacrifice, Trevor, it’s a gift, to you from your entire family. Don’t throw away the company that your grandparents and your father and even I worked so hard to be able to give to you.”
Trevor stood. “Mom, I can’t do what you, and Grandma, and
Grandpa and even Dad did. I can’t sacrifice my entire life for”—he lifted his hands and looked around the room that had been first his Grandpa’s and Dad’s and now Mom’s—“I can’t sacrifice my entire life and all my dreams for Up Side. I don’t understand—”
“Dammit, Trevor, I let you go away! I didn’t push you. I thought if you had time for this fantasy life of yours you’d come back and understand what you’re meant to do, the responsibility you’re meant to take on.”
“Mom, really?”
“Trevor, this decision doesn’t just affect our family. Think of everyone who works for Up Side. The families and people who depend on their paychecks. We’re a good solid company. We have a payroll of over twenty million dollars every two weeks. What’s going to happen to all those people when we’re forced to go public? You think a corporation with shareholders is going to provide tuition reimbursement and healthcare and a living wage? Do you?” Mom walked toward a framed photo on the wall, of his grandparents in front of their first store in Venice. “In grad school you did case studies on burger places. You know what’ll happen if Up Side is sold. How many companies of any kind still have pension programs? How do you think Becky can afford to move to Paris when she retires? What happens to that, Trevor? Tell me what happens to all of the people who’ve dedicated their work and their lives to us.”
Trevor filled his lungs with a long deep breath. Many people helped make Up Side Burger a success. Mom squeezed his arm. Her voice softened. Her eyes pleaded with him to try to understand. “You’ve got a month until your birthday. Don’t decide now, just think about this.” She turned her face toward a picture of all the Up Side employees, taken at the last company picnic. “Think about all of them.”
Heat thrummed through his body. He was caught between what Mom expected from him and what he wanted. A hard place he’d inhabited for most his life. This feeling of frustration had propelled him to leave L.A. and go to Mesquale. His teeth ground together. “I’ll think about it, Mom.”
“Good,” Adele smiled. “That’s all I can ask.”
Chapter 7
Poppy wasn’t a nanny or a mother and knew very little about childcare, but in three days she’d managed to keep her two nieces alive and get some of the messes in Mimi’s house wrangled. All of the above went into the win column. Each day Poppy bathed and fed the girls and Mimi went to bed early and left for the hospital each morning.
With small children around, an extra pair of hands was essential. How did Mimi manage this every day? Poppy scanned the playground, where Laura stood at the top of the slide waiting her turn while Hazel napped in her stroller. Today Poppy had packed a picnic lunch for all four of them. Mimi wasn’t leaving for the hospital until late afternoon.
“Mom asks about you.” Mimi sat on the blanket beneath a giant willow tree and picked at apple slices.
Poppy’s stomach tightened. She’d been avoiding conversations about Therese and her health, not because Poppy didn’t want to listen to Mimi, but because Poppy really didn’t want to hear about Therese.
Mimi’s gaze latched onto Laura, who now threw her body onto the slide and, with a gargantuan grin, giggled all the way down to the spot where she landed on the sand. She looked at Mimi and Poppy and held her arms above her head. Mimi mimicked the motion and Laura dashed back toward the stairs to go down the slide again.
“This was a brilliant idea.” Mimi smoothed wrinkles out of the blanket. “Thank you for doing it. Thank you for being here and helping.”
“I want to help …” Poppy started. “I just don’t want to …” Her words drifted off. She felt so unforgiving, so selfish, so cold, but the woman who had given birth to Poppy had ditched her. Therese hadn’t been a mother to Poppy the way Mimi was a mother to her girls.
Mimi leaned on her hand and tucked around her other side. Her gaze remained on Laura. “You know, I didn’t want to see Mom either until I had the girls.”
Poppy nodded. She remembered when Mimi had called and told her she’d seen Therese that first time. It had been so that Therese could meet Laura when she was a baby. Poppy had wanted to scream and throw the phone across the room.
“The girls changed my feelings about Mom for me. But they didn’t change what I thought about what Mom did to us, how she treated us, how she abandoned us.”
Poppy flinched with the word.
“But these two helped me to understand … not how she could have done what she did but why.”
Poppy’s eyes flashed and she turned her head toward her sister. “Really? Because I can’t imagine you ever running away from Laura and Hazel. Leaving them with Daniel and never taking care of them again.”
“I can’t either”—a soft smile curved over Mimi’s face—“today.”
Heat simmered in Poppy’s chest. “You’re kidding with that.”
“Half yes, half no. Very few mothers don’t occasionally fantasize about ditching the family and the mess and the crying and the poop and being free. No responsibilities. Sleeping in. A plush bed with clean white sheets.” She bit into a slice of apple. “Funny what becomes a luxury when you have children.”
“But those are fantasies.” Poppy scooped up a handful of sand and slowly let it slide between her fingers. “You’d never leave Laura and Hazel. Therese did. She left us. Forever.”
“I haven’t forgotten, but when I had these two I was able to forgive.”
“How? I’d think seeing how much the girls need you would’ve made you even angrier. I mean, I’ve been with them day and night for three days and even as the Awesome Aunt Poppy, I’m a poor substitute for Mommy. Laura constantly asks for you. ‘When is Mommy coming home? How long will Mommy be gone? Where’s Mommy?’”
“You did the same thing after Mom left.” Mimi’s voice was soft.
Pain pulsed through Poppy’s chest. “Of course I did.” Her voice scraped out of her throat. “She left me. She left us. At least you and Brian got her for a while. But me? I had her just long enough to remember she was there, but not long enough to know that she loved me. I barely remember a time when she was with us.” Poppy planted her fist into the sand. “I only remember the pain after she left.”
Mimi’s eyes held a wistful sadness. Poppy realized that if her big sister could take away the pain that scarred her heart she would. Hadn’t Mimi dedicated her life to trying to make Poppy feel whole? Her teenage years and early twenties had been all about helping Poppy grow up.
“I’m just saying, she asks about you.” Mimi brushed hair from her forehead. She pulled her gaze from Laura and looked at Poppy. “She wants to see you.”
Poppy pulled her legs up in front of her body and clasped her arms around her shins. “I don’t want to see her.” She rested her chin on her knees and slid her face to the side. Her cheek rested on her kneecaps. “I don’t think I ever will.”
Mimi nodded. “Okay.” She raised an eyebrow. “I can understand that, but you need to know there isn’t much time. You need to make peace with the fact that according to the doctors we should be thinking about hospice soon.”
Poppy pressed her lips into a thin line. Heat pricked the backs of her eyes. Damn Therese. Damn the fact that she’d abandoned them all and now, now wanted to see them. What a lousy hand she’d been dealt. Why couldn’t she have gotten a mom like Laura and Hazel had gotten?
“You need to find some closure with this, Poppy. You need to sort out how you’ll feel if you never see her again, because that never is going to happen soon.”
Poppy pressed her tongue to the top of her mouth and forced her tears into submission. How did you forgive someone who’d split your heart in two? How could she even be in the same room with Therese? Poppy had rehearsed all the things she wanted to say, all the angry words she wanted to unleash, to let Therese know how badly she’d shattered Poppy’s heart and ruined her chance of ever trusting anyone again. Of ever giving her heart away.
Mimi stood and dusted off the back of her skirt. “Brian is coming in to L.A. day after to
morrow.”
If her big brother was flying all the way to Los Angeles from Malaysia then things really weren’t going well for Therese. “What about Dad?”
Mimi shook her head and pulled at the hair falling from her ponytail. “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in a while. I think Brian’ll call him.” Mimi looked at Poppy. “Dad wasn’t very happy when I started speaking to Mom.”
“Of course not.” Poppy trailed her fingers through the sand. A fractured family full of pain. To be around either of her parents was torture.
“I’m excited for the girls to see Brian. I think Laura was Hazel’s age and in this same stroller the last time he visited.” Hazel stirred and let out the tiniest mewling sound. “I just wish it wasn’t for something like this.” Mimi peeked beneath the yellow blanket that was spread out over the stroller. “She’s waking up,” Mimi whispered.
“Mama!” Laura yelled from the swings. “Look at me!”
“Good girl!” Mimi called. “That’s right, legs out, legs in, legs out, legs in.”
Poppy remembered that singsong call from her own childhood. Mimi had been so patient, teaching her to swing and ride a bike and doing all the things that a mother was meant to do for a small child. Now she was doing all of the same wonderful things again for her own daughters. Mimi lifted Hazel from her stroller. Her big blue eyes took in the entire world. “How’s my little girl? How is she?” Mimi asked in a breathy voice filled with joy.
Laura’s little legs reached higher and higher toward the bright blue sky. What if Therese had stayed and been a mom to Poppy? Would she have been able to live a normal life? Would she have been able to give her heart to Trevor? To commit? How, now, when Therese was dying, was Poppy meant to feel bad and to forgive her?
A desire to run, to flee, to take her two bags and get a ticket to Hong Kong surged through her body. Brian was coming. He’d stay with Mimi and the girls. He could be with Mimi when Therese died.
“Oh no,” Mimi’s shirt was covered in drool. “Pop, can you get me a rag?.”
