Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 25920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 130(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 86(@300wpm)
“I’m coming, I’m coming. Hold your horses, lady.” I make my way toward her. She doesn’t put down her needles, instead giving me her cheek to kiss.
“That’s better. Your father is still working, but dinner is in the oven. Chicken divan, as you requested. The topping is all that’s left. We can finish it up when we hear the backup beepers.” She looks up from the colorful pattern, finally done with counting the row to set aside the bright pink blanket.
“That’s fine. I’m going to pour a glass of wine. Want one?” I slide one heel off, then the other. My back, legs, and feet are happy to finally relax since I put them on this morning. If I were smart, I’d grab my clothes from the car, shower in my parents’ bathroom, and put pajamas on. Except that would raise more questions, and while I’m prepared to tell them about Samuel, I’m smart enough not to go into too much detail.
“Yes, there’s a new box of white zinfandel in the fridge.” My mother doesn’t discriminate against wine—bottle, box, small cartons to-go, she’s game for whatever is on sale. A frugal woman through and through, not that I blame her. Both of my parents instilled in me at a young age to save what you can, spend when it’s a good investment, and to always keep a cushion to fall on in your bank account.
“I see we splurged on the big stuff this week.” I open the fridge and pull the wine out, knowing I’ll need to fiddle with the spout. Doing it while letting the bought air out of the refrigerator would have Mom telling me I was wasting money. Yes, I’m thirty years old. That doesn’t mean she or Dad have a problem getting on to me.
“The big box store sale had it. Since you mentioned that you’d be stopping by for supper, I couldn’t pass it up.” I grab two glasses out of the cabinet, no need for anything fancy when it’s in the rosé family, and fill them halfway. I’ll only allow myself the one glass so I can drive home. Sure, my parents still have a spare bedroom in their house that is available, but that would mean going a night without seeing Samuel, and neither of us were willing to allow one another to sleep alone.
“Here you go.” I take a healthy sip. Mom does the same. She looks like she’s barely nearing her forties instead of her fifty-two years of age. I’m thankful that I take more after my mom’s side than Dad’s. Even if that does mean I’m on the shorter side, well, even smaller than Mom in height, but grandma was similar to my build, so that’s where I must have gotten it from. Grandma Nancy was a hoot, fun-size in package, a personality as big as the sky. God, do I miss her.
“Thank you. Now, as much as I love having you over for dinner, spill the beans.” I choke on the sip of wine; it goes down the wrong pipe. “Call it a mother’s intuition. While you still call me and your father daily, there’s a different tone in your voice. You’re happier, more settled. Tell me all about the man who stole your heart.”
“Wow, I was kind of hoping to talk about him while you and Dad are both here. It might actually work in my favor for us to talk first.” I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out where to lead this conversation.
“Get it out already. You act like we’ll judge you or something. We would never.”
“I know that, but it’s no easy when I’ve been dating Judge Kavanaugh for nearly four months. He’s years older than me.” I’m not touching on the fact that fifteen years are between us. “And, well, I’m falling in love with him.” The words fly from my mouth faster than necessary. Mom doesn’t say anything. Maybe this is too much. I mean, he’s my boss, closer to Mom’s age than mine, and I’ve been holding out on her. We talk, always have. Communication was the biggest rule in the house growing up, and while I’m an adult now, this time around, I didn’t, mostly because it was new, exciting, and I wanted to see where it went before broadcasting it to the world.
“And is he falling love with you?” Mom asks.
“He is. We’ve got some hurdles to jump, but we’re both willing to figure things out. Together.” I take another sip of my wine.
“Then that’s all I care about. Bring him around whenever. We’d love to meet him.” She comes closer, wrapping her arm around my waist. My head going to her shoulder.
“I’ll make that happen.” She kisses my forehead, neither of us moving until we hear the backup beepers on Dad’s work truck. We smile at one another and then get to work on finishing my favorite dish with chicken, cheese, broccoli, cream of chicken soup, an unhealthy amount of mayonnaise, and then the crushed-up croutons to broil on top. If Kavanaugh is lucky, I’ll even bring him leftovers.