Vanity Fare

by Megan Caldwell

  “Mommy?” Aidan’s attention was back on us. “Mommy, now that Grandma’s staying with us, does that mean Dante will, too?”

  I heaved a sigh. “Um, no, honey.” Because if I had to live with my mother and my mother’s cat my head would explode. I tried to get him distracted from thoughts of that hideous beast. And for once I didn’t mean my mother. “Aidan, what movie did you want to watch when we get home?”

  He took off down the block without even answering, and Nick and I started walking quickly to keep up with him. “When in trouble,” I whispered, “dangle the possibility of mindless hours of viewing in front of them. Works every time.”

  “Works for Simon, too,” Nick whispered. I choked back a surprised laugh. “Who’s Dante?” he asked.

  “My mother’s cat. Hates everybody but my mother, and barely tolerates her. He has a tendency to mark his territory everywhere.”

  “Ah, sounds . . .”

  “Horrid, I know.”

  “I was going to say it sounds like Simon.”

  I let out a surprised bark of laughter and leaned into him. Boy, did that feel good. Oops. “Here we are.”

  Aidan was waiting for us on the front stoop, an impatient look on his face. I turned to Nick, noticing how he still looked totally handsome, even though I was sure the brisk air had turned my face to a beet. Well, the air and other things.

  “You don’t have to come up if you don’t have the time. I mean, I’m guessing you probably have plans or something . . . ?” I couldn’t believe what a wimp I was.

  He gave me an incredulous look. “And miss out on whatever Aidan’s planning on picking for his movie tonight? You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

  Okay, Molly, you’re up. Time to get brave.

  I opened the door and we went upstairs, Aidan having latched onto Nick’s hand again and talking about superheroes, Pokémon, dragons, and the other creatures that inhabited his imagination. Mom was still out, and the house was blessedly calm. She had made a stab at straightening up, too, so the table was almost clean. I shucked my shoes off in the hallway; Nick and Aidan were having a lively debate about which movie to choose.

  “Mommy? I picked Tarzan.” He waved the cartoon jungle hunk in my face.

  “Okay, honey, let me put it in.” Tarzan was my favorite kids movie. After all, it was secretly a romance, and I always felt that little goo moment when Jane decided to stay with her muscle-bound ape-man. Plus even in the cartoon, Tarzan was hot.

  I headed to the kitchen to make coffee. At least I knew he liked that. I tried not to notice how much my hands were shaking as I tipped the ground coffee into the filter. When it was ready, I walked to the living room and said his name, then shook my head when he couldn’t hear me and gestured for him to follow me back to the kitchen.

  “What did you say? Tarzan was yelling something,” he said with a smile.

  “I made coffee, would you like some?”

  “Sure. Nothing in it, please.” As if I didn’t know that.

  “Hard-ass,” I replied with a smirk, ducking back into the kitchen. I heard him behind me, and smelled his distinctive scent. I could feel him two feet in back of me. This was the time. Now or never, million years, etc., etc. I turned around abruptly, almost bumping into him.

  “Nick, can I ask you a question?” My voice was high, strained.

  He backed up a little, putting his hand on the counter and meeting my eyes. “Sure. What’s up? Got another birthday party to go to?” His smile was easy, relaxed.

  “Uh, no, not exactly. I was wondering. That is, I was—” I turned to look at him. His face had frozen. I wondered if he suspected what I was going to ask him. I wondered what I’d do if he said no.

  “I wanted to know if you would be able to go out with me. On a date sort of thing.”

  His eyes closed for a minute, as if he were in pain. Then he opened them slowly, gazing deep into my eyes as he opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, Molly. No.”

  “Oh.”

  He stepped into the kitchen, brushing my arm. I jumped back, away from the contact. He reached into my cabinet and took out two mugs, then poured coffee into them. He met my eyes, a pained look in his.

  I opened the cabinet doors with a sudden mad craving for cookies. Rats. Somehow I had turned into Mother Hubbard.

  He raised the mugs. “I’ll carry these in, then.”

  His footsteps echoed down the hallway as I slammed the cabinet door shut. Rejected. And just for a date. What was wrong with me?

  Nothing, Molly. Nothing is wrong with you. I was beginning to like my inner voice. You don’t know how long he’s here for. You don’t know where he lives. You don’t know anything about him.

  And whose fault is that? my inner voice said querulously. He’s not very forthcoming, is he, and you wanted to go out with him why?

  Because he’s kind, good with Aidan, and smart. Oh, and totally, amazingly sexy, too.

  Well, as long as your own motivations are clear.

  And even though he said no, I did do something I wouldn’t have done in a million years.

  Which was more than I had a few minutes ago. The rest of my life didn’t seem so scary anymore.

  Yeast of Eden

  In this American classic, Iowan cornmeal vies with its more dramatic, seductive sibling—the Illinois-grown pumpkin—for the favors of the alluring California walnut. Chewy, delicious, and filling, you’ll remember this bread long after the romantic triangle has played out its inevitable drama.

  17

  “WHERE’S YOUR MOM TONIGHT?” LISSA ASKED, REMOVING her too-cute-for-words shoes. She’d come over right after work, and it looked like she could use a hug.

  “Mom’s visiting her devil cat. I think that’s who was giving her the stock tips—more Purina stock, Kathleen.”

  She laughed, then sat down on the sofa with an audible sigh. “Oh, my, that feels good. It’s been such a day.”

  “What’s up?” I said, sitting down next to her. Her skirt was full and pleated, with a desert scene played out in shades of green and blue across its folds. I leaned against her shoulder and smelled her soft, springlike perfume. It suited her.

  “Work. It sucks. And Tony. He sucks, too.”

  “Which one is worse? Let’s prioritize.”

  “Tony. He’s worse.”

  Tony was quickly moving toward the top of the “People I Am Not Fond Of” List. Topping the list, of course, was Hugh; second was probably Tony. Sylvia probably rounded out the top five, following the guy at the deli who glared at me when I asked for more milk in my coffee and the Park Slope mom who scolded Aidan when he’d accidentally bumped her precious offspring. Oh, and Natalie. But I barely knew her, so why did I put her on the list? And then I remembered her snotty smirk when I first met her. That’s why she was on the list.

  “What’s going on with Tony?”

  “I like him so much, he’s exactly what I’ve always wanted in a boyfriend: smart, successful, cultured. But it seems like I’m not exactly what he’s always wanted. I’m trying, I really am, but he’s always pushing me to do more. He says it’ll make me grow as a person.”

  “Do you think he’s right?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. I’d received that “make me grow as a person” line myself. Fuck them both.

  “I do think he’s right.” I could tell she was trying hard not to be defensive. It wasn’t working. “I’m not as smart as he—”

  “Now stop it right there.” I wished someone had said this to me, I thought as I heard my vehement tone. “Lissa, you cannot possibly believe you’re dumb.” Or not ambitious, or social, or what I need in a wife. “You’ve done all sorts of amazing things, you’re doing well in your job, you’re friends with me, even . . . fer Chrissakes, you’re not dumb.”

  “Thanks, Molly. I just wish I didn’t feel so stupid when I was with Tony and his friends. He knows about wine, and food, and the best nightclubs—”

  “All that means,” I replied through gritted teeth, “is
that he has a subscription to Time Out and does stuff at night.”

  She was too far gone to listen to me. “And when he and his friends talk about movies and art—” She wrung her hands. “I’m hopeless.”

  I grabbed her and shook her. “Lissa. Listen to me. You are not dumb. You cannot walk around defining yourself by the man in your life.”

  A little voice mocked me in my head. Like you did? Hugh had always pushed me to be a Domestic Goddess, not understanding that boiling water was an accomplishment for me. He’d gotten frustrated when I’d forgotten to pay the bills, or pick up his dry-cleaning, or put my coffee mug in the sink.

  Never mind that I was playing with our son, taking care of the household as best I could, and playing therapist whenever he felt insecure.

  Never mind that kids were kids only once, but laundry was forever.

  Never mind that he never asked me how I was doing, or if I had had a good day.

  Never mind all that. I couldn’t anymore.

  Lissa’s voice jerked me from my memories. “Can you help me?”

  “Of course I can.” I patted her hand. “You’re my friend, I won’t pass judgment. Unless you want me to.”

  We started our crash course in culture by watching Pride and Prejudice, the good version, the one where Colin Firth takes a dip in a pond. White shirts haven’t been the same since.

  Right when Lizzy was freaking out about her sister running off with Wickham, the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “You’re there.” It was Simon.

  “Yes,” I said, turning my back away from the screen so I wouldn’t get distracted by another hot Brit. “I live here.”

  He did not appear to appreciate my sense of humor. “Well, I need you to get dressed in your classiest clothes and head up to my mum’s on the Upper East Side right away.”

  “What? Why? Is there a problem with the copy or something?”

  He snorted. “No, of course not, I just need you up here. You see, Mother is throwing a party, and I got the dates wrong, and I need you up here.”

  “What? No!”

  His voice got a steely edge. “I need you up here, Molly.” He lowered his voice to a quieter, but still kinda nasty, tone. “My mother hopes to set me up with one of her friends’ daughters, and I need to prove I’m seeing someone.”

  “I can’t, Simon.”

  His voice got almost whiny. “Please, Molly? You don’t have to stay long, just long enough to prove I’m not see—That is, just to introduce you to Mum and her husband.”

  “Not seeing Natalie? Is that what you were going to say?” I felt my temper—that thing I’d just begun to meet—start to rise. “Thanks for making me feel like a weak substitute.”

  “That was uncalled for.” He sounded icy.

  “You called me, buddy,” I said. “And I can’t shoot up to the Upper East Side just so you can dangle me in front of your mother. We’ve had two dates, Simon, that doesn’t mean I’m obliged to you for this kind of thing. Certainly not at the last minute.”

  I could not believe I was saying this. Talk about not in a million years!

  “Fine.” He sounded really pissed off. “I’ll speak to you about this later, Molly.”

  And he hung up without even saying goodbye.

  I shook my head as I replaced the phone back in the cradle.

  “Something wrong?” Lissa asked. She’d paused the DVD, thank goodness. I needed to wallow in some romantic Austen-ness.

  “No. Just a man thinking he can order me around like I was his property.”

  She gave me a surprised look. “Wow. You sure are teaching me a lot, Molly. Tonight’s lesson is: Don’t be at his beck and call.” She nodded, a satisfied expression on her face. “That’s a good one to know.”

  I felt embarrassed she’d heard me get snippy, but also happy she’d heard a woman talk back to a guy. “Want some ice cream?” I asked, heading to the kitchen. “Colin Firth’s hotness demands some icy cool yumminess, don’t you think?”

  “Uh-huh. And Molly?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks.”

  After she left, I peeked into Aidan’s room. Mom still wasn’t back yet, and the house was as still and silent as my love life. Or as still as it would be after I had another talk with Simon. Aidan was wearing his astronaut jammies and had thrown the covers off in his sleep. He was sprawled across the bed, one arm above his head, the other just touching one of his coiled plastic snakes.

  His breathing was deep and regular, as free of care as I could hope for. I bent down and kissed his cheek, and he swatted idly at my face, still sleeping.

  When the man in my life was this cute, how could I possibly bemoan my fate? I was luckier than I knew, and being Aidan’s mom was worth it.

  I closed his door as I walked back into the hall, thinking of what I’d say. And that I was about to do something I never thought I’d do in a million years: Tell a gorgeous man I didn’t want to date him.

  Much Ado About Muffins

  Are the chocolate chips paired with the flour here? Or maybe they’re with the dried cranberries? And what about the walnuts? They seem to have an eye toward overthrowing the pecans. There’s a superfluity of ingredients here, all changing partners as quickly as you change your mind.

  But once you taste this muffin, you’ll never switch again.

  18

  “WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT?” SIMON’S VOICE WAS PISSILY British, very clipped and clearly angry. And I hadn’t even slept with him. Sheesh.

  “I’m just saying that it’s probably a bad idea for us to see each other.” Because I don’t need to be ordered around, and ordered for, and besides, I get the feeling you’re scared of your mother.

  “Is this about Natalie?”

  I tried not to huff in frustration too loudly. “No. It is not about Natalie. I barely know the woman.” Even though she made my Most Hated list.

  “Then why? I deserve an explanation.”

  I was guessing “because you’re an entitled brat” wasn’t a good response. It was all I had, however.

  He continued without waiting for whatever whitewashed lie I was going to come up with. “Did Nick talk to you?” I could tell Simon was close to yelling. My stomach tightened. I took an extra few seconds to reply so I could ensure my voice was at its normal timbre, not a tremulous squeak.

  “Not about you, if that’s what you’re asking. Why, should he have?”

  I heard him exhale. “I just wanted to make sure he didn’t poison your mind against me or anything.”

  Was that why Simon was so interested in me? To piss Nick off? And here I thought it was because he thought I was easy. Heck, so did I.

  “Look, Simon, I’ll see you at the presentation. Good-bye.”

  I replaced the receiver as calmly as I could, Simon still sputtering on the other end. Part of me couldn’t believe I was turning down sex with a gorgeous guy; another part of me wanted to jump up and down because I was turning down sex with a gorgeous guy. And, almost, kind of, sort of, because I had let him know I was mad.

  I hadn’t done that since . . . ever. That’s what always annoyed Hugh the most: Whenever we argued, I’d keep everything bottled up and not let him know what I was thinking. He’d beg me to say something, anything, but I couldn’t handle the pressure of saying I wasn’t happy with something.

  If I had just spoken up . . . but I couldn’t blame it on me, any more than I could blame it on my wearing jeans. Hugh and I weren’t suited for each other, and maybe he was stronger than I was for recognizing it. Although the way he figured that out was just as wimpy as I was—cheating on your spouse was unforgivable in my book. Even if my book usually featured a half-naked man on the cover.

  I’d made the right decision, I knew that. I kept going over it, like touching a sore tooth, wondering if there was something there I wasn’t understanding. Likely as not, I was always surprised by the endings in movies that everyone else had predicted. The Sixth Sense? Totally didn’t see th
at coming. The Crying Game? No way. So why should my own drama be any different?

  I stopped my rumination long enough to make sure my mom and Aidan weren’t getting in people’s way. We were taking advantage of a special admission offer to the American Museum of Natural History, and my mom and Aidan were in pig heaven wandering around the dinosaurs exhibit.

  I jumped when someone touched me on the arm. And wanted to run away when I saw who it was: Natalie.

  “Oh, Natalie,” I exclaimed. “How nice to run into you here.” I was such an incredible liar.

  “Hello, Molly. Lovely to see you as well.” Oh, she was a liar, too!

  “So,” I said, shifting on my feet from side to side, “how is setting up your own company going? Have you gotten office space yet?”

  She made a moue of annoyance. “It always takes longer than it should, of course, but I expect we will be up and running soon. Speaking of which,” she said, “are you available to take on any work?”

  What? “Um, well, I don’t know.” If I’d been any more incoherent I would have been speaking Esperanto.

  “And who’s this?” Natalie turned as Aidan returned, my mom right behind him.

  “Oh, this is my son, Aidan, and my mother. This is Natalie, she used to work at John’s company.”

  “With John,” she corrected as she bent down toward Aidan. “Nice to meet you, sir,” she said in that tone of voice people who’d never been parents used when talking to adults.

  “Hi,” Aidan said back. “Mom, can we go to the gift store?”

  I met my mother’s eyes as she gestured helplessly.

  “Sorry, hon, we can’t . . .”

  “Let me.” Natalie opened her purse and pulled out a red patent-leather wallet. She withdrew a twenty-dollar bill and held it out to Aidan.

  “Wow, thanks!” he said, taking it from her.

  “Um, Aidan, I’m not sure we should—”

  “Of course he should, Molly.” Did she have to sound so condescending? “Consider it an advance, if you want.”

  “Oh, you’re hiring Molly? Well, isn’t that nice.”