by E. M. Lilly
Emily found herself getting more and more flustered as she tried to explain that she didn’t take any offense at what the genie had said. “It was simply a matter of me wanting you to see how wrong you were about Ethan,” she stumbled out.
“Interesting,” Jack mused.
“What?”
“Oh, it’s only that I’ve never had a master before who cared about what I thought, or felt the need to correct any possible misinterpretation of mine.” Jack stroked his chin as he shook his head in wonder. “I find it interesting, that’s all.”
Emily only got more flustered as she tried to explain how Jack had that all wrong. A brisk knock on her door stopped her. For a moment she felt weak-kneed and lightheaded with the thought that Ethan might’ve come to her room to surprise her and take her to dinner after all. Then she heard her mother’s voice calling out to her from behind the door and a rush of disappointment hit her. She caught a gleam in Jack’s eyes, as well as a seriousness in his expression, as if he now understood why she cared so much what he thought of Ethan. She didn’t have time to argue with him. Her head was swimming with the thought that her mother was outside her room waiting for her. She whispered urgently to Jack, telling him who it was that was calling for her and that he had to leave. He nodded, his expression turning somber, and with another burst of blue smoke he disappeared.
Winston seemed unfazed by Jack’s comings and goings. With a few heavy grunts, he pushed himself to his feet and followed Emily as she answered the door. Alice Mignon stood outside looking tired, but still beaming at her daughter, a joyful smile breaking over her face. As she stood there tears began to flood her eyes. And then the two of them were embracing, and any disappointment that Emily might’ve been feeling that it wasn’t Ethan calling on her proved fleeting.
Alice Mignon was young when she had Emily, only seventeen. The death of her husband when she was twenty-five—almost the same age as Emily was now—left her hair prematurely gray with hard lines etched in her forehead and a web of fine wrinkles around her eyes. For a long time she had left her hair gray, but since Emily had seen her last she had started dying it a chestnut brown. She was an inch taller than Emily, and had a similarly slender build, although with age she had gotten a bit thicker in the body, but was by no means heavy. Even with the extra weight on her hips and thighs, she was still thinner than most women her age, and if anything it just added to her curves. And even with the lines that sadness and grief had carved into her face, she was still very pretty, especially after she had finished embracing her daughter, and stood holding Emily’s hands, smiling happily and contentedly. Winston, wanting to get into the act, pushed himself between the two women and nudged Alice Mignon’s leg with his nose. Only then did she notice him.
“Emily, dear, I didn’t know you had a dog. What’s his name?”
“Winston. Mom, why didn’t you let me know you were coming here?”
Alice Mignon dropped to one knee so she could hug Winston and let him lick her face, which he did happily. “What a handsome fellow,” she said. She held Winston’s thick neck with both hands and held him back so she could get a good look at him. Her eyes misted up briefly as she turned a wistful smile toward her daughter. “Emily, your dad would’ve loved him. He always wanted a dog like this. He’s so ugly and funny looking that he’s beautiful!”
“Mom, you’re not so subtly avoiding my question.”
“Nonsense. I’m not avoiding anything. Of course I was going to drive up here with you being so close to home.”
“Do you still have that same broken down Chevy?”
“My car’s fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Your car’s a wreck! When we talked we agreed I’d drive down to Des Moines next weekend to visit. I don’t like the idea of you being on the highway for that long with a car that could break down any second!”
Alice Mignon stood up and brushed dog fur off her slacks, frowning as she did so.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” she said. “It was a short drive and I was perfectly fine using my car.” There was a stubborn piece of fur that Alice Mignon couldn’t brush off and had to pick off her slacks. After she did this she offered her daughter a fragile smile. “Besides, I know you’re going to be busy with your job and I didn’t want you to have to drive back and forth to Des Moines with everything else you have to do. And this will also give me a chance to see Minneapolis.”
Des Moines to Eden Prairie was a two hundred and fifty mile trip. Not exactly a short drive. And while her mother might’ve been anxious to see her, Emily had the idea that she was far more motivated to meet Ethan Blake than she was to see Minneapolis. There was some sort of intuition thing going on. Ever since Emily went off to college, they would always talk every few days over the phone, and once Alice found out about Emily publishing Ethan’s first book she’d try to sneak in questions about Ethan as if he were more than an author to her daughter. Not that Emily ever let on that she’d been hoping that she and Ethan would fall madly in love when they met, and she would sidestep her mother’s question, acting as if it were all strictly professional. But her mother had sensed something, and that was why she made the drive up instead of waiting for the following weekend for Emily to drive to Des Moines.
“I’ll be busy with work most of this week,” Emily said.
“I know you will, dear, and I won’t interfere. I promise. But you need to eat, right? We’ll get a chance to catch up. And don’t worry, I won’t be in your hair for too long. I was only able to take three days off from work and have to be back Thursday.” Alice Mignon hesitated awkwardly before adding, “I guess I need to get going to find a motel nearby, but I’ll be back later and I’ll take you out to dinner.”
Alice Mignon lingered for a moment while Emily also hesitated, then told her mother that she didn’t need to find a motel. “You’ll stay here with me. And I’ll take you out to dinner later. After all, I’m the one with the expense account.”
Emily was lying about an expense account. She had a per diem, and a low one at that, but there was no way she’d allow her mother to pay for dinner. She knew her mother barely made ends meet working as a waitress at a diner, and the fact that Alice was still driving the same fifteen year-old broken-down Chevy was clear evidence that her situation hadn’t improved.
Alice Mignon hesitated again, her smile growing more brittle. “Well, as long I won’t be a nuisance for you,” she said.
“You won’t be, Mom. It will be wonderful having you here.”
“In that case, I’d love to be able to spend the extra time with you. Let me go get my suitcase.”
“I’ll get it for you.”
“I’ve only got the one suitcase. I’ll go and get it.”
“I’ll walk with you then.”
Emily was mostly happy that her mother had surprised her like this. She hadn’t seen her since last Christmas, and she had been missing her. But she also couldn’t help feeling this sense of deflation as if her mother was going to be cramping her style with Ethan, especially with how eager her mother was in seeing her married. She felt guilty about how she was feeling and she wasn’t going to let her mother see any of her deflation. Besides, if she and Ethan were meant to fall in love, they’d do so whether or not her mother was there with her.
The motel Emily was staying in had two levels with each room set up as a suite, and each one having its own separate entrance to the outside. Emily’s suite was on the second level, and as she and her mother walked along the cement walkway to the staircase, Winston waddled along behind them. When she saw her mother’s car, her eyes misted with tears over the thought that her mother drove all the way from Des Moines in it. The car had more dents and rust than the last time she saw it, and now chicken wire was holding up the front bumper.
“I remember you getting that car when I was nine years old,” Emily said.
Alice Mignon laughed. “I sure did. I used to drive you to school in that very car. And it�
��s still running fine. Not too many miles either given how old it is. Still less than a hundred thousand.”
If the odometer read that, it was only because the car had already cycled past the hundred thousand mile indicator, possibly even cycling several times past it. Emily decided then that she was going to use a wish to get her mother a new car. She’d have to think of a foolproof way of making the wish, but her mother was going to be driving back to Des Moines in something new and safe.
The lock for the trunk was either rusted out or just plain broken and couldn’t be opened, so Alice Mignon had stored away a ratty cloth suitcase in the backseat. Emily knew better than to try to carry the suitcase for her mother—she’d only refuse the help, claiming that she had only packed a few items and that it was light enough for her to handle. As they walked back to her room, Alice Mignon asked Emily about New York and her job and about her dog, but not one thing about whether she had a boyfriend or about Ethan, which all but told Emily that her mother’s intuition had indeed zeroed in on Ethan being a future son-in-law. Once they got the suitcase back to her room, and her mother had a chance to freshen up after her four-hour drive, they went down to the motel’s office and with the help of the front desk clerk, they found a nearby restaurant that allowed dogs to be kept by the table.
Chapter 11
The restaurant they ended up going to wasn’t anything fancy, but the food, while simple, was good and Winston was allowed to sit by their table. Emily and her mother both chose the roast chicken dinner, and for Winston, two hamburgers very rare. When Emily ordered a thirty dollar bottle of wine, Alice Mignon raised an eyebrow at the extravagance, but didn’t argue about it, although once the waiter left she asked whether Emily’s expense account would cover the wine. Emily lied and said it would.
The wine came before the food, and after a glass, Alice Mignon started crying.
“Mom?”
“I’m sorry, Emily, dear,” Alice Mignon said, sniffing back her tears. She stopped for a moment to use her napkin to mop up around her eyes. “I’m just so happy to see you. I miss you, and I worry so much about you being alone in that city without anyone to watch over you.”
Of course, Emily did have someone. A three thousand year-old genie. But that wasn’t something she could tell her mother.
“Mom, I’m a big girl now. And I do have someone now. I’ve got this tough, little guy.”
Winston let out a thin whimper, and rolled over onto his side, his eyes wide open as he watched Emily and her mother glancing down at him.
Alice Mignon nodded reluctantly, not arguing the point that at ninety pounds soaking wet Emily was far from big, or that Winston, while fat and chunky, wasn’t exactly a fearsome looking beast. She had another half a glass of wine, and then brought up Ethan.
“Do you know if he’s married, dear?” she asked, trying to appear as if it were only a casual question.
“Mom, what difference would that make? He’s a writer whom I’m working with, that’s all,” Emily said matter-of-factly, as if that was all Ethan was to her, and that she hadn’t built up a romantic fantasy involving him.
“I’m only making small talk, that’s all,” Alice Mignon said defensively. “After all, you never know what might happen. And the way you talk about him, well, it makes me wonder.”
“What do you mean the way I talk about him?”
“Now don’t get upset. You know exactly what I mean.” She paused, then added, “The last two months whenever we talk on the phone I hear the way you light up when you talk about him.”
“Mom, you’re mixing Ethan up with his work,” Emily said, “I’m excited by his work. He’s a brilliant writer. I don’t know him as a person.”
While what Emily told her mother was logically true, she didn’t believe it. In her gut she knew everything she needed to know about Ethan from his writing, but she wasn’t going to admit that to her mother. Alice Mignon took another sip of wine and half under her breath said, “Nothing wrong with marrying a brilliant writer. And it would be so nice to have you move back closer to home.”
“Mom, I’m here to do my job. That’s all. Don’t start expecting something that’s not going to happen. When I meet the right man—if I ever meet the right man—maybe I’ll get married then. Maybe not. And I’m certainly not moving back to the Midwest anytime soon.”
Emily was able to say this with full conviction. While she believed in her heart that Ethan would turn out to be the right man for her, it was possible also that he wouldn’t, and if that turned out to be the case, so be it. But if it turned out she was right about him, then she certainly wasn’t going to move to Eden Prairie or back to Des Moines. In her romantic fantasy—which she recognized was only a fantasy, but in her gut seemed much more than that—she and Ethan would live in New York, then London and Paris and other exciting cities before settling down.
Alice Mignon let the subject drop, but Emily knew her mother wasn’t buying what she had told her. At least not entirely. Once the food was brought over Emily asked her mother what type of car she’d like if she could have anything.
Alice Mignon sighed softly and shook her head. “Emily, dear, my car runs fine, it really does. A little rust and a few dents don’t mean a thing.”
“It’s more than just a little rust and a few dents. You’ve got the front bumper tied up with chicken wire, the trunk lock is busted, and I bet you still haven’t fixed the air conditioning, which hasn’t worked since I was in high school.” Emily waved all that away. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m just asking hypothetically. If you could have any car, what would you want? A Mercedes? A Cadillac? BMW?” Emily grinned wickedly. “A Ferrari?”
Alice Mignon laughed at the idea of her ever having one of those cars. “Is that what you’re planning to buy me once you become a hotshot editor publishing a bunch of bestselling authors?”
“I’m just asking a question, that’s all.”
Even though Alice Mignon was a little tipsy from the wine—she had had three glasses while her daughter had limited herself to a single glass—she mustered up a serious expression. “You’re not planning on doing something foolish, are you?”
“Like what?”
Alice Mignon squinted as she gave her a daughter a hard look, then shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said.
“As much as I’d like to, I’m not planning on buying you a car, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can’t. Assistant editors barely make enough money to take the bus. I’m just curious what type of car you’d want if you could have anything.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be one of those. It would be foolish to have to spend all that money on insurance and upkeep to own one of those types of cars. And I’d feel even more foolish driving to work in anything that expensive.” Alice Mignon tilted back her wine glass to finish off the last drops, then dabbed her napkin along her mouth. “I’m a simple person, Emily. You should know that by now. All I want is a car that runs. And that’s why I’m fine with my Chevy, even if it does have some years on it. And a little rust, too.”
Emily should’ve expected that answer. She let the matter drop so they could focus on their roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes.
Later that night after they returned back to the motel, Emily needed some time to look at her editing notes and read over several sections of the manuscript. While she was doing this, she glanced up and noticed that her mother was crestfallen—that she had the same sort of look of utter disappointment that a young child might have on Christmas after racing to open her presents only to find socks and underwear instead of the toys she’d been hoping for. Her mother must’ve sensed that Emily was studying her, for she put down whatever it was she had been looking at and forced a wooden smile, and tried to act as if there was nothing wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, dear,” Alice Mignon said stiffly, her hands folded in her lap.
It was only then that Emily realized that her mother had found Ethan’s publicity phot
o and that that was what had caused her distress. Realizing this made Emily’s cheeks redden.
“It’s a bad photo, that’s all. I’ve talked with him on the phone enough to know that’s not how he really is.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Alice Mignon said. She looked uncomfortable as she tried to smile at her daughter. “He looks like a fine, young man,” she forced out as her smile grew more brittle.
“Did you see the roses Ethan sent me?”
Alice Mignon glanced over at the roses. The sight of them didn’t change the brittleness of her smile. “Very nice, dear,” she said.
Winston began to stir then, making the whimpering noises which indicated that he needed to go out. Emily was grateful for the opportunity to flee the suite. It was more than being embarrassed by her mother’s reaction to Ethan’s photo. She was actually angry about it, as if her mother was siding up with Jack. She knew it was irrational for her to feel that way, but she couldn’t help herself.
“I’m going to take Winston out. I’ll be back soon.”
Emily closed her laptop computer, put it down on a nearby end table, and jumped up from her armchair. Moving at a determined pace, she grabbed her jacket, picked up Winston’s leash, and headed to the door. Alice Mignon called out that she would join her.
“That’s okay, Mom,” Emily yelled back, already walking out the door and with Winston scampering along behind her to keep up. “I like taking the little guy out by myself at night. It helps me relax.”
And then she was closing the door behind her, blithely ignoring her mother’s protests. For the next three blocks, Emily walked at that same headstrong, determined pace, with Winston having to trot to keep up. It was only then that she started to cool off. As she heard Winston panting heavily, she slowed her pace to something more normal, angry with herself for how she had reacted. She took several deep breaths to calm herself down more.