by Reese Ryan
“Morning, Mom.” I kiss her cheek. “Everything smells fantastic.”
She smiles and pours more batter on the waffle iron. “How’d you sleep?”
“Too well. I closed my eyes for a few minutes, next thing I knew it was morning. Why didn’t you wake me? We could’ve watched a movie or something. Unless maybe you didn’t want me around, with your friend here and all.” I smirk as I pour warm syrup onto my waffles.
My mother frowns and grabs the whipped cream out of the refrigerator. She sets it on the table with a loud thud. “I told you, Walter is a very, very good friend.”
“That’s a lot of verys.” I struggle to get whipped cream out of the nearly empty can. Just how much pie has Walter been over here eating? I shudder thinking of the guy I dated who had a thing about putting whipped cream...everywhere. God, I hope all they’ve been doing is cuddling on the couch and eating pie.
“You’re reaching. It sounds like a ploy to avoid talking about your love life.” Mom puts the lid back on the can of whipped cream. “Or lack thereof.”
“I don’t have time for a relationship at this point in my life.” There’s no way I’m telling her about my current...whatever this is with Raine. “I’m opening a brand-new branch of Jasper & Graevel. Me, Mom. Can you believe it?”
She sits next to me and squeezes my arm. “Of course I can. You’re my daughter, aren’t you? You can do anything you put your mind to. That includes finding the right man.” My mother winks at me.
I should have known these damn waffles would come with a price.
“Isn’t this the same conversation we had, like, a week ago?” I stuff a forkful of waffles in my mouth. They’re even better than I remember.
“Okay, so we won’t talk about it.” She pours each of us a cup of coffee. “Not now, at least.”
I’ll settle for this small victory. “I plan to walk the old neighborhood. Get a feel for it again. See what’s changed. Want to come along?”
“I’m teaching a restorative yoga class at the senior center later this morning. I was hoping you’d want to come along.”
“You teach yoga?”
“I’m a certified instructor.” She smiles proudly. “Haven’t you noticed I’ve slimmed down?” Mom lifts the bottom of the large sweatshirt that practically swallows her and pulls out the waistband of her sweatpants to show me how much room she has in them.
“Wow, you look great!” Why didn’t I notice her trimmed-down figure yesterday? Perhaps I was distracted by the old coot draped all over her. “You certainly have a lot of secrets.”
She purses her lips and tightens her jaw. “You’ve just been too preoccupied for your mother these days.” She adds cream and sugar to our coffee and sets my mug on the table in front of me before getting her waffles out of the iron.
Preoccupied. Now there’s a fully loaded, utterly accusatory word when used by the woman who endured twenty hours of labor to give birth to you.
I sip my coffee slowly—a stall tactic I’ve employed since I was twelve. Orange juice was my weapon of choice back then. “I’m sorry I haven’t been home much. But I’m here now. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
My mother looks up from slicing her waffles. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I just miss you, that’s all.”
“I miss you, too, Mom.” For the first time in a long time, I realize just how much I mean it.
Chapter Eight
“Melanie!” Mimi hugs me tightly. She still smells like lilacs and freesia. “It’s so good to see you. Things haven’t been the same without you. Besides, you’re missing out on seeing your nephews grow up. I swear those boys grow every single night in their sleep.”
“I can’t wait to see them.” I pull out a kitchen chair and sit down. “So how’ve you been? Mom says you’re working.”
“I am.”
“Tell me about your job.”
“It’s not a big deal, really. Not like you, Ms. Branch Manager.” Mimi smiles.
“Yes, it is,” I insist. “I want to hear all about it.”
Mimi places her jacket on the back of the chair and sits down. “It’s a long-term contract position to keep us going until Marcus finds something.”
“What type of work are you doing?”
“I work in the personnel department for the Monarchs.”
“The Cleveland Monarchs?”
“Is there more than one?” Coming from my sister, this is a fair question.
“Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“It’s not like I’m on the field with them.”
“The court.”
“What?”
“Basketball is played on a court, not a field. A field is football or soccer...” I pause when I notice her look of complete bewilderment. “Never mind. Did it not occur to you to mention this to your sister, an avid sports fan?”
“You mean you actually like sports?”
I look at Mimi in amused disbelief. Sometimes I think she was switched at birth. That would explain why she has delicate features like a supermodel and I look more like a life-sized Raggedy Ann doll. “Yes, I actually like sports.”
“I thought that was just for Daddy. Or a clever scheme to pick up hot guys while looking at even hotter guys. Though apparently it’s not working.” She smirks.
I ball up a napkin and toss it at her head. She bats it back toward me and laughs.
“This is a WNBA team. What’s the point if there are no hot guys to ogle? Unless, of course...” She raises an eyebrow.
“I’m seriously considering murdering you right now.” I try to maintain a serious demeanor, but a smile breaks out across my face and gives me away. We both giggle the way we did when we were kids.
“Relax. I’m just kidding. Sorta.” She eyes me with one eyebrow raised. “Though that would explain your sad sense of style and the fact that no man can possibly stand up to your demands.”
“Shut it.” I point a finger at her. “Don’t you start, too, Mini-Mom.”
Mimi sticks her tongue out at me then smiles.
“So you must’ve met all the players. What’re they like?”
“I’ve met a few. Everyone’s nice and the money is decent. And to be honest, I like the feeling of being out and working. Plus I’m pretty good at what I do. Still I miss being home with the boys. We spend a couple of hours together at night then it’s time for bed.” Mimi’s eyes glisten.
I reach for her hand. “It’s only temporary. Marcus’ll be working again soon, and you’ll be back at home, just like you planned.”
“Yeah.” She shrugs, a slight frown tugging the corners of her mouth down.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“Of course,” Mimi says quickly. She stands and pushes the chair underneath the table. “Well, I just wanted to stop by and say hi. The kids and I will come by tomorrow.” She picks up her purse and jacket and heads for the door.
I follow her. “Mimi, I’m sorry about not staying in touch.”
“It’s not like we could get much conversation in anyway.” She forces a laugh. “I get it. It’s okay, really. ’Night.”
“’Night.” I close the door behind her.
Mimi’s attempt to absolve me of guilt only makes me feel worse. She was the bratty little sister who wanted everything her way. Now I feel like the self-centered diva who thinks her life and time are more important than everyone else’s.
How the hell did that happen?
* * *
On Sunday evening, my family gathers around the large oak dining table my grandparents had once owned. Decades’ worth of dents and scratches are hidden beneath the floral tablecloth.
There are nine of us at Sunday dinner. My mother and Walter, Mimi and Marcus, Mickey and Dust
y, Jamie and Miles and me. We’ve had family dinners at this table as long as I can remember. So why do I suddenly feel like an outsider in my own family?
Jamie’s boyfriend, Miles, is charming and handsome. He’s about five foot eleven with a lean, athletic build. His messy crop of brown hair, shimmering blue eyes and bottomless dimples make him irresistible. His forehead crinkles when he laughs, which is often. He’s adorable.
I watch Jamie with Miles. He’s the first man she’s dated who’s suitable to bring home to family dinner. She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her.
“Jamie tells me you’re heading up a new branch of Jasper & Graevel. Congratulations.” Miles’s smile is broad. “That’s quite an accomplishment for someone so young.”
“Thanks. Especially for the part about me being young. I don’t hear that too often. My mother thinks I’m an old maid who needs to settle down.”
“That isn’t exactly what I said.” Mom looks over at Walter then says, “My daughter tends to exaggerate.”
“What did you say, Mom?” Jamie asks.
“Just that she has a birthday coming up and—”
“Wasn’t there something about me not getting any younger?”
My mother frowns. “Maybe. I don’t recall exactly.”
We all laugh, even Mickey and Dusty. They have no idea what’s funny, but they won’t be left out of the fun.
“That’s so mean, Mom,” Jamie says. “Women are at their prime in their thirties.” Jamie sneaks a look at me and smiles.
I stifle a giggle and Mimi blushes. We know she means that women are in their prime sexually in their thirties. I catch a glimpse of Miles out of the corner of my eye. He’s trying his best to swallow a grin. Apparently he knows what she means, too.
“I’m not saying that you aren’t,” Mom says. “It’s just that I want Melanie, and you, Jamie, to experience the same kind of happiness your sister and Marcus have. What your father and I had. Marriage, children, a home. You can’t spend your entire lives as bachelorettes.”
“Can’t or shouldn’t?” I’m enjoying this.
“Shouldn’t,” Miles interjects. He kisses Jamie’s hand. His eyes do a little dance. “Life’s too short not to spend it with someone you’re crazy about.”
Jamie blushes. Another new trick performed by the parallel-universe version of my best friend.
Every woman at this table has fallen in love with Miles. We do a collective girl sigh, punctuated by Mimi’s “That is so sweet,” and a “How romantic” from my mother.
Marcus rolls his eyes and stuffs half a dinner roll in his mouth.
Walter points at Miles and chuckles. “You’re smooth, young fella. I’ll certainly give you that.”
Walter has summed things up pretty well. Miles is smooth, like butta. Still, I don’t doubt his sincerity. Of course, I only have two hours of dinner conversation on which to base this assessment.
Mimi wipes her mouth with a napkin. “Getting married and starting a family...it’s one of the best decisions I ever made. I have no regrets.” She smiles at Marcus. He misses their moment, consumed with the precision carving of his pork chops.
“That’s great, Mimi.” Jamie gives her a half smile. “Now, could you please pass the potatoes?”
Mimi sticks her tongue out at Jamie then hands her the large glass bowl.
“What about your career?” Everyone turns to look at me as if we’re in the Middle Ages and I’ve just proclaimed that the earth is, in fact, round. “You spent five years of your life with the sole intention of becoming an interior designer. Don’t you ever regret not pursuing your dreams?”
Mimi purses her lips and folds her napkin neatly on the table. “Marcus, Mickey and Dusty are my life. And it’s a good one. I haven’t abandoned my dream. It’s just changed, that’s—”
Mimi is interrupted by the sound of dishware crashing to the floor. My two-and-a-half-year-old nephew, Dusty, points to the floor. “Oooooooh!”
“Sorry, Mom. I’ll clean that up.” Mimi springs from her chair and hurries toward the kitchen.
“I’ll help you.” I push back from the table.
“No. Enjoy your dinner. Marcus and I can take care of it.”
Marcus sighs and saunters over to the scene of the crime.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as the rest of us return to dinner. Marcus strikes me as a man sleepwalking through his own life. It’s not that my sister is bossy. Marcus just seems to float through life like an untethered sailboat with no real direction of his own.
He loves Mimi and the kids, but is this how he pictured his life? I feel a little sorry for him.
“Melanie, your mom is so excited about you moving back home. It’s all she can talk about over at the senior center. It’ll be great for her to have some company in this big old house.” Walter seems anxious to gain my approval. I wish he would’ve asked about the damn weather in San Francisco instead.
“I’m excited to return to Cleveland.” I employ the fine art of stating just enough.
My mother stares at me for a moment. “You’re not moving back home?”
Damn! I’d nearly forgotten that she’s a master at hearing the unsaid. I take another bite of green bean casserole. “For a few weeks maybe, until I get my own place.”
My mother’s face drops. I shoot Walter an accusatory look. He shrugs and looks apologetic.
A lot of good that does me now.
“There’s plenty of room here. Why waste money on a mortgage or rent? You can save that money for...well, you know, whenever you’ll need it.”
“I appreciate your offer.” I muster the most sincere expression I can manage. “But I’ll be here for at least the next five years. It makes sense to purchase real estate now, while it’s such a buyer’s market. It’s an investment in my future.”
My mother pouts and pushes food around her plate.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Melanie,” Walter says. “You’re a smart lady. Get in while the prices are low. When the market rebounds, you’ll see a nice return.”
He winks at me. I smile. He’s redeemed himself. A little.
“What neighborhoods are you considering?” Miles chimes in.
Dammit! What is it with these guys? “Downtown. Westlake. Rocky River. Lakewood.” The words come out in a jumbled mutter.
“Downtown? In those overpriced lofts they’re building for out-of-towners who don’t know any better?” My mother acts like I’ve announced I’m moving to Mars.
Miles laughs.
Jamie places her hand over his and tries to restrain a laugh. “Mom, Miles lives downtown.”
“My point exactly!” Mom waves her hands wildly. “Miles is from New York City, where a one-bedroom apartment can go for a million dollars. You—” she points a jeweled finger in my direction, “—I expect to know better.”
“Those are really good choices, Melanie,” Marcus says. My mother frowns at him, but he continues. “Resale value should be your chief concern, even at the point of purchase. There was a recent article in Cleveland Magazine on top-rated Cleveland neighborhoods. It’s in the car, if you’d like to read it.” He returns to his food, oblivious to Mom and Mimi’s stares.
“Thanks, Marcus.” I smile. He nods in return.
“Are we ready for dessert? I made blackberry cobbler.” Mom stands then heads to the kitchen. I’m hard on her heels.
I grab the plates while she looks for oven mitts. “I’m an adult. I need my own space. It’s not like you’ll never see me.”
My mother gives me a canned smile. “It does mean I’ll see you less than I’d hoped. We miss having you in our lives. In our own way we all need you. Mimi, Jamie, even me.”
“Jamie’s in an amazing place. I can hardly believe it’s her. Mimi has Marcus and the boys and a great job
to tide them over until he gets back to work. And you, Mom...I haven’t seen you this happy...in a really long time.” I pick up a stack of dessert plates and grab a handful of forks. “You guys certainly don’t need me, but I’ll be here anyway. Just a half-hour drive away. And I’ll be right here at the table for dinner every Sunday.”
Mom puts on the oven mitts and picks up the casserole dish filled with her senior center first-prize-winning cobbler. “Promise?”
“Promise.” I push the door open for her. The dinner table erupts in applause at the aromatic arrival of Mom’s blackberry cobbler.
Chapter Nine
I’m exhausted. My flight was delayed an hour, and we spent thirty minutes sitting on the tarmac. The older gentleman seated next to me on the plane smelled like six cloves of fresh garlic and an entire tube of liniment. He also had a penchant for open-mouth snoring that covered a complete symphonic range.
At ten-thirty that night, I climb the stairs of my apartment. All I want is a hot shower and sleep—lots of it.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Raine is seated on a chaise in the hall.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I put one hand to my mouth. “My flight was delayed. I didn’t think to call.” I neglect to mention I’d forgotten that he was coming over tonight.
“I brought food.” He holds up a grease-stained paper bag.
“Thanks.” I smile. “I’m starving.”
He plants a quick kiss on my lips then relieves me of the carry-on so I can unlock the door. “How was your trip?”
“Fantastic. It was really great to see everyone.”
“Great,” he echoes. The slump of his shoulders and the way his face has fallen indicates that he thinks otherwise.
I open the door and toss my keys on the table, pretending not to notice his disappointment that my first trip back was a success. “Make yourself at home.”
Raine puts my luggage against the wall. He stretches. His shirt creeps up a tad, just enough to offer a sweet glimpse of those incredible abs. I bite my lip and let out a little sigh.
He sinks into the soft cushions of the couch and extends his legs. “You must be exhausted.”
