by Debby Mayne
“Huh?”
“That was a rude comment, so I suppose that makes me a rude person. I’m really sorry.”
“Stop it, Pete.” She swallowed hard and squirmed in discomfort.
“Let’s change the subject. Do you think the variety show will still be going on when we get back to the Village?”
Bethany glanced at her watch. “I doubt it. They only had a few acts left.”
“Good.” He licked his lips. “Why don’t you call your mom and ask if we need to bring back some ice cream to go with the cobbler?”
She was happy to have something else to do, so she whipped out her phone and punched in her mother’s number, thinking Naomi wasn’t likely to be back at her apartment yet. But she was.
“What’s taking you two so long?” Naomi cleared her throat. “Sorry about that. I’m annoyed that Pamela hoodwinked you into being her chauffeur and made you miss the show. The last act was the best. So are you on your way?”
“Yes, and Pete wants to know if we should stop off and pick up some ice cream.”
“I thought he knew me better than that. I have four different flavors in my freezer, but if he doesn’t like vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, or butter pecan, he can pick up whatever flavor he likes.”
“Okay, I’ll tell him.” Bethany pushed the off button on her phone. “She said—”
“I heard.” He stopped for a red light, turned to her, and smiled.
A warm feeling flooded Bethany as their gazes remained locked. “I should have known my mother would have plenty of ice cream in her freezer. I can’t remember a time when she didn’t.”
Pete nodded and turned his attention back to the road. “Yeah, I don’t think Naomi will ever suffer from an ice-cream deficiency.”
By the time they arrived at Naomi’s apartment, Bethany’s mom had set the table with bowls, spoons, and water glasses. “Would you like some coffee?”
Pete shook his head. “No thanks. You’ve already gone to way too much trouble.”
“You think this is trouble?” Naomi laughed. “Trouble is when people you love get sick. Trouble is when you don’t have enough money to pay the bills. Trouble is when—”
Bethany held up her hands. “I think we get the message, Mom.”
Naomi smiled and put her arm around Bethany’s waist. “I like when you do that.”
“Do what? Interrupt you?”
“No, not that. I like when you call me Mom.”
Pete’s gaze darted back and forth between Bethany and Naomi. At first, he looked stunned, and then he took a step back, appearing uncomfortable.
“Well, you are my mom, so that makes sense.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Naomi pulled away and gestured for them to sit down at the dining room table. “Have a seat, and I’ll bring the cobbler out.”
“No, Mom, you sit down. I’ll get it.” Bethany tipped her head forward and gave her mother what she hoped came across as a stern look.
Naomi’s lips twitched as she nodded. “Okay, bossy lady.”
“I come by it honestly.” Bethany placed one hand on her hip and flipped her other hand, mimicking her mother. “So what kind of ice cream do you want, Mom?”
“Butter pecan.”
Pete wiggled his eyebrows. “I’ll have the same.”
“Why don’t you just bring the whole carton back?” Naomi said. “I think I’ll have seconds.”
Pete appeared amused. “Good thing you’re active.”
“I have to stay that way to keep my girlish figure. I’ve always eaten like a horse, and I don’t plan to stop now.”
As Bethany ferried ice cream from the kitchen to the dining room, she heard the low murmur of conversation between her mother and Pete. Based on the small snippets she caught, they weren’t discussing anything of significance, which was a good thing. She heard the words “clowns,” “accordion,” and “trio.”
Once she sat down, the tone and subject changed. “The festival will be here before we know it, and we still have a bunch of stuff to finish up,” Naomi said as she plopped the second scoop of butter pecan ice cream on top of her cherry cobbler. “I’m afraid we didn’t give ourselves enough time.”
Bethany looked at Pete and saw the amused smile on his face. She turned to her mother. “What all do I need to do to make this run more smoothly?”
“You have plenty to do with the prizes and publicity.” Naomi shoved a big bite of cobbler and ice cream into her mouth, winced, chewed, and swallowed. “Brain freeze.” Then she took another bite, this one almost as big.
“Mom, you really need to slow down.”
Naomi contorted her mouth and looked at Pete. “Do you talk to your mother this way?” She folded her hands in her lap. “It’s like I’m now the child and she’s the mother.”
Pete chuckled. “My parents tell me I’ve gotten too smart for my own good. So yes, I must talk to them that way.”
Naomi playfully pointed a finger at Pete and shook it. “Don’t forget who raised you and took care of you the first eighteen or so years of your life.”
“Have you and my mother discussed this already? She keeps saying that exact same thing.”
Naomi grinned. “I’ve always thought your mother was a smart woman.”
As Pete and her mother bantered, Bethany thought about how similar her upbringing was to Pete’s. They both had in-your-face moms who wanted to be involved in every aspect of their children’s lives. However, there were some significant differences too. Pete’s parents allowed him to take over the family business, but if Charlie hadn’t wanted to move away, Bethany was certain Naomi would have tried to control their lives. She never doubted her mother’s love, but it could be suffocating. Moving away had been good and forced her to develop in areas where she’d relied on her mom. The only problem was she’d centered her entire life on Charlie and what he wanted. This should be her time to do what she wanted. She lifted her chin and looked her mother in the eye.
“What’re you thinking about, Bethany?” Naomi had propped her elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “You’ve been mighty quiet for the past few minutes.”
The door opened, and in walked Aunt Mary, saving Bethany from having to answer. “Hey there.” Aunt Mary’s focus settled on the cobbler. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”
“Because we didn’t know where you were,” Naomi said. “There’s plenty left, so grab a bowl and spoon and join us.”
Aunt Mary nodded as she gripped the back of a chair with both hands and grinned. “I will in just a minute. But first, I wanted to tell you about the big prize Caroline Short just gave us for the festival.”
Naomi’s forehead crinkled. “She already donated some meals at the Pink Geranium. Did you get her to donate something else?”
“Another weekend for two at the bed and breakfast, with all meals included.” Aunt Mary beamed with pride. “She’s releasing that one room she normally reserves for close friends and family. I managed to convince her that whoever stays in that room will become close friends if they move here. And that’s not all. I got a year’s worth of oil changes at the lube place.”
Naomi leaned back in her chair. “Good job, Mary. Now how are you going to break the news to Pamela?”
Aunt Mary frowned. “What do you mean break the news? It’s a good thing, right?”
“Yes, I agree, but you know how Pamela can be. She likes taking credit for stuff.”
“Okay, so I’ll give her the credit. I really don’t care.” Her shoulders sagged slightly.
Naomi sighed. “Oh, you care all right, but at least you’re gracious enough to step aside and let the boss think she did something special.”
“I’m just glad to help.” Aunt Mary slowly turned to face Bethany. “How’s everything coming along at your place? I can come over later if you want.”
“Give my daughter a break, Mary. You’re pushing her mighty hard.”
Both Bethany and Pete burst into laughter. Naomi glared at Bethany.
“Sorry, Mom. It’s just that—” She cut herself off. No point in antagonizing her mother when she was trying to help. “I appreciate your offer, Aunt Mary, but not today. Maybe later next week?”
“Call me when you’re ready.” She backed away toward the kitchen. “I’m ready for my cobbler now. Did you put beets in it like Mother did?”
“Of course.” Naomi made a face. “And that was supposed to be a secret.”
“I don’t think it’s any big secret that you sneak all kinds of things into food,” Bethany said as she lifted her fingers and touched them, one at a time, as she ticked off the different ways Naomi snuck veggies into prepared dishes. “Cauliflower in mashed potatoes, zucchini in lasagna, carrots in muffins and cookies . . .”
Pete leaned back in his chair. “I’m impressed. Does my mom do this too?”
Naomi shrugged, obviously annoyed. “I don’t know, and even if I did know, it’s not my place to blab all her secrets. Why don’t you ask her?”
Aunt Mary came out of the kitchen with a bowl and spoon. “I can’t wait to dig in. One of these days I might even take up cooking.”
“You’re a good cook,” Bethany said. “You used to make the best macaroni and cheese, and I always enjoyed your pies.”
“Boxed mac ’n cheese and pies from the Pink Geranium.” Aunt Mary grinned and shoved a bite of cobbler into her mouth.
Naomi nodded. “The rest of us had to learn to cook, but by the time you came along, Mother was tired of teaching. We made things way too easy on you, but I suppose that’s the way it is with the youngest kid in a big family.”
Bethany’s insides tightened. Both she and Aunt Mary were the youngest children in their families. She wondered if Mom was implying something about her own life being too easy. After all, she did leave home and move right in with Charlie immediately after they married. She’d learned to cook and do things around the house, but until Charlie passed away, she’d always had someone else to rely on.
Pete wasn’t sure what happened, but Bethany instantly tensed, and she clammed up. It was right after her mother commented on Mary’s cooking.
Mary got up, carried her bowl to the kitchen sink, said her good-byes, told Naomi not to wait up, and left. Naomi went into the kitchen, mumbling about how Mary had left her bowl in the sink without rinsing it. Bethany was in an odd frame of mind and didn’t act like she wanted to talk.
“I’ll do the dishes,” Pete said. “And then I’ll take Bethany home. It’s been a long day.”
Naomi shook her head. “Nah, you two run along, and I’ll clean up. I don’t have anything better to do with my time.”
Bethany gestured toward the door. “Okay, let’s go, Pete.”
All the way to her house, she stared straight ahead. He wanted to ask what happened—if it was something he’d said or done—and find a way to make her feel better, but he didn’t know where to start. She didn’t seem mad at him, but she clearly wasn’t happy. He knew she adored her aunt, and a simple jab from her mother shouldn’t have put her in this state.
Pete pulled up in front of her house and put the truck in park. “Bethany, if you want to talk—”
“No, I’m fine. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Um . . . sure.” He started to turn off the ignition, but she held up her hand.
“You don’t have to walk me to the door. I’m perfectly capable of going by myself.”
“Yes, I know, but . . .” His voice trailed off as she got out, slammed the door shut, and scampered up the sidewalk, pulling her keys from her bag as she went. After unlocking the door, she turned and gave him a half-smile, waving before she went inside and closed the door behind her.
Whatever had happened obviously had a huge impact on Bethany. As he drove home, he replayed the situation in his mind, but he still had no idea what had gotten her in such a mood.
Chapter 14
Bethany leaned against the door, closed her eyes, and thought about how similar she was to Aunt Mary. All of her life, she’d been compared to her favorite relative, and until now, she’d considered it a compliment. After her mother’s comment, though, she realized the comparison wasn’t always good.
Being the youngest of four, Bethany had to admit her parents didn’t have the same expectations of her they’d had for her siblings. Her two older brothers were overachievers in their fields—one a doctor and the other an engineer. Her sister had married a corporate climber, and now that her children were older, she’d gone back to work as the head of a large nonprofit agency, using her volunteer résumé to get the job. She doubted any of her siblings was truly happy, but on the surface, they were all accomplished.
The only comments her siblings had about Bethany were that she married young, and she was a clutter-hound. As she looked around her house, she couldn’t deny they were right. Even after ridding the house of a dozen boxes of knickknacks, she still had so much stuff she couldn’t see the tops of some of her furniture.
She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before plunging into another prayer for guidance. Lord, once again, I ask for mercy and the strength to get through this.
When she opened her eyes, she took a long, hard look around and sighed. The volume of knickknacks and other memorabilia was still staggering. Even though she’d cleared so much away, she knew it was superficial. Now she needed to figure out where to put a serious dent in what was left.
Her mother’s words from many years ago played in her head. “Take one bite at a time until it’s all gone.” Naomi had always said that whenever Bethany was overwhelmed, whether by a messy room or a massive homework project.
Bethany decided to tackle one corner of the living room, where she’d already removed a few collectibles. At least it wasn’t quite as cluttered as her bedroom.
She went into the garage and grabbed a couple of the boxes she still hadn’t gotten rid of when she’d moved in. As she walked inside with the huge boxes, she changed her mind. This required more of a tiptoe into the shallow end than diving into the deep end, so she went back out to the garage and exchanged the large boxes for a couple of medium-sized ones.
She placed one in the middle of the floor and the other beside the ornate antique side table, and then she picked up a ceramic piece her mother-in-law had created. She turned it over in her hands and inspected some of the fine workmanship before putting it back down. This was so hard.
Maybe she should move on to purchased collectibles rather than handmade items that meant more than money. Her favorite Hummel collection had a place of honor on the built-in bookshelves behind the table. She’d painstakingly collected each piece, one at a time, until she had the complete collection. Although she enjoyed her collection, she had no idea who’d made the pieces.
A knot formed in her stomach at the very thought of letting go of this set. After all, many of them had come as gifts from Ashley and Charlie, who knew how much she loved Hummels. Others she’d purchased after saving for them. Exhaustion overwhelmed her as she thought about the task ahead, and it seemed to grow by the minute.
The phone rang, so at least she had a brief reprieve from making decisions. It was Naomi.
“Hi, sweetie. I just wanted to call and check on you. Are you okay?”
“Yes, Mom, I’m fine.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Bethany cleared her throat. “I know you didn’t. It’s just that—”
“Your mean old mother said some pretty rough things and scared you away. I know, I know. I should be more careful about what I say to you. After all, you’ve always been the sensitive one in the family.”
“That’s just it. I hate being labeled. I was always the messy kid, or the sensitive one, or the child who m
ade the family late for everything.” The instant she blurted out those words, her breath caught in her throat.
Naomi chuckled but quickly stopped. “In my family, I was always the bossy one.”
Bethany let out her breath and relaxed. Obviously, nothing had changed.
“And the one who liked to cook, although to be honest, there are times I’d much rather eat out. Oh, and I’m the one who hates shrimp, but that’s not true either.”
“You like shrimp?”
Naomi laughed. “Yes, I like shrimp just fine. Granted, they’re not my favorite food, but I like them once in a while.”
“I wonder how you got that label.”
“I’ll tell you how,” Naomi said. “One night when we were at my aunt’s house, I was too tired to eat. So when they passed around the platter of shrimp, I turned it down. Someone asked if I’d like some shrimp, I said no, and from that moment on, no one ever offered it to me again.” She let out a snort. “Just because I turned it down one time, folks figured it was because I didn’t like it.”
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Bethany asked.
“No point in it. There were more important things to talk about.”
“So where are you going with this?”
“I’m thinking that we might need to start fresh . . . now that you know I like shrimp.” Naomi laughed at her own comment. “Instead of continuing to nag you about your clutter, I’ll accept you as you are and your belongings at face value. I like shrimp, and you like your stuff.” She paused. “How’s that sound?”
“Sounds great.”
“Good. I need to go now.”
“Mom, before we hang up, I have something to say. When I came home, I took another look around and actually saw what everyone else sees. I have to admit it’s not a pretty sight. You’ve always said I needed to do something about my clutter, even when I was a kid. I think it’s time.”
Naomi chuckled. “But I don’t want you to think I don’t love you just the way you are. Everything you have means so much to you.”