Lost in Love (The Miss Apple Pants series Book 2)

by Charlotte Roth

  “Oh goodness. We might need another pink drink—a surprise drink. And who said this wasn’t a surprise party after all?” She offered me a warm smile, as if to say, “Go on, it’s okay.”

  “So, you remember you said that Mom and I kinda look like sisters? Well, I guess I’ve always been what my grandma calls an old soul. I have always been an awkward teenager—the one with only a few friends, the one who’d rather hang out around the adult’s table and listen to conversations about the Democratic Party, school fundings, and the threat of global warming than hang out in a teenage room, pasted with posters of Justin Timberlake or John Mayor, talking about boys and cherry lip-gloss. When all my peers started dating and spent most Friday and Saturday nights at the mall, hanging out and making out, I would hang out with Mom and Dad and watch Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks kiss, mostly with each other. I was the girl who had never been kissed. I was…” I reached for my pink drink and held it up.

  “But I’m guessing that was about to change?” She clinked her glass with mine and we both took a huge sip before I continued.

  “I was seventeen when I met Hans and even though it sounds like it was taken right out of some cheesy romance novel, it was love at first sight. He was, or still is, I guess, so extremely handsome, but it was more than that. He just had this thing about him, and every time I looked at him, it was like my body had a will of its own. If not, I would never have ended up in his place, alone. And naked.” With the mentioning of the word naked, we both looked up at the poster, which made us both giggle. The drink-pimp’s pink drinks were starting to work, giving me the courage to go on. And perhaps slur a bit.

  “Yes, I was naked, but I wasn’t irresponsible. Being the hippie parents they are, Mom and Dad were never afraid to talk about sex—well, Dad was kinda clumsy—or how to use protection when, or, as Dad said, “if ever” I had sex for the first time. And I did. We did use protection but, nonetheless, I ended up pregnant nine months later. Hans told me he was a virgin too, so maybe Alfred was a result of his lack of experience of putting on a condom correctly. But, it really didn’t matter what or how it went wrong. It wouldn’t change the fact that I had gone from virgin to teenage mom in the split of a second.” I emptied the last of my pink truth serum and placed the glass on the table. “So, there you have it. I never told him about it. He left the next morning. I figured…” I shrugged.

  “I see. But something changed? And now we’re going to Berlin, to find Hans.” She almost sounded excited about it.

  “You’re not shocked?”

  “Shocked?” She waved her hand dismissively at me. “It takes a lot more to shake this old rock.” She smiled.

  “Phew.” I drew in a deep breath. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She moved to the edge of the couch and grabbed the empty glass from the table. “You know, Berlin might not be the worst place to go look for someone.” She looked at me with a warm glow in her eyes. “Richard had some very influential clients in Berlin. I or they might be able to help with a few contacts. I’ll have Mrs. Bennett look into that later.”

  “Mrs. Bennett?”

  “Richard’s old PA, emphasis on old,” she said with a giggle. “She is at least ten years older than I, and a tiny little being, but she has the memory of an elephant. I’m sure she has a roster somewhere. I’ll have a word with her, and we can line someone up to help find this Hans, your handsome love of a lifetime.”

  Love of a lifetime? I cleared my throat as I felt a surge in my stomach. “That would be awesome. Thanks. But what’s the other mission?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “Mission?” Confusion flickered across her perfectly painted face.

  “Yes, you said we now had two missions.”

  “Oh that. No, it’s just me being silly, or call it tipsy.” She waved her empty glass in front of me as proof. “It’s just … I just thought that maybe if he knew that I was going back to all the places, to all our memories, that perhaps…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head slightly. “This is alcohol talking, I’m afraid.”

  “He—as in your son, Aaron?”

  She nodded.

  “And you thought that maybe it could bring you back together?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” She exhaled a deep breath and I swear I could hear longing leaving her old lungs as she did so.

  “What happened with you two?”

  For a long moment she stayed silent but then, suddenly, she rose to her feet. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s just… It always makes me sad when people fight, or when people who should be together are separated by bad words or pride. Mom lost her Dad when I was a little girl, and the last thing she told him was that he was a big drunken bastard. She has never forgiven herself.”

  She looked away but not long enough to hide the tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she finally said, “but sometimes it’s hard to fix things. Anyway, it’s rather silly to even think that… How would he find out about it? We’re not exactly on speaking terms these days.” She looked down onto her lap and smoothed the front of her skirt.

  “You know what?” I got up and unplugged the laptop. “Remember I just told you that Martha gave me an idea the other day? Well, we were talking about our trip and she said she demanded a daily briefing, with pictures, and that I’d better write to her every day. I told her I would post pictures on Insta and Facebook and then she looked at me like I had just announced that I was joining the national bowling team. “Facebook,” she sneered, reminding me that she had just turned eighty not eighteen. I told her that I would help her set up an account. And you know what? We could set one up for you as well, Mrs. Rock. Or, you don’t really need one. We can just use mine. Up to you.”

  “A, um, Facebook account?” Mrs. Rock looked at me with an expression like the one Martha had offered me. “Goodness gracious. It does seem rather complicated.”

  “It’s not really.”

  “Well, you need to remember, whereas you’re part of a laptop slash iPhone generation, I’m more of a telephone generation. I still remember when they came to install our landline. It was a very exciting day. I remember my very first telephone call, too. It was with my grandmother, rest her soul.” She looked up at the ceiling and rested her old hand on top of her chest.

  “Wow, you really are—”

  “—a dinosaur,” she suggested, giggling.

  “No, I was about so say an interesting lady.” I said, leaving out the word old. “But, believe me, it’s not that complicated. We can even make a separate group for this trip. Yes, that’s exactly what we’ll do.” I logged into Facebook and started typing. “Maybe we could name it ‘The Jensen/Rock adventure’... no, how ‘bout ‘The Jensen and Rock Family European adventure’?”

  “The what adventure?” She inched closer and squinted at the screen.

  “That’s what we’ll call it.”

  “Call it?” She looked between me and the screen, her neatly painted brows knitted together.

  “The group.” I pointed at the screen. “That way we can sneak in the family aspect? We could call it ‘Bridge over troubled water,’ but I reckon that’s already taken,” I joked.

  “Okay, now you’ve lost me.”

  “Sorry,” I said, realizing how I was just making it a lot more complicated. “Let’s just stick with the other version.” I hit enter and showed her the screen. “Voila. We now have a page—our very own group.”

  “We have a page,” she echoed, mechanically. “Our very own group.”

  “Yes,” I explained further, “now, we can add or invite everyone we know. That way they can see what we post. They can like it or comment on it, but they don’t have to write back. It’s less formal than writing emails.”

  “Oh, I see,” she said, but it was pretty obvious that she clearly didn’t “see” anything but a fancy new laptop screen with unfamiliar grids, images, and terminology. How did you ex
plain Facebook to a person stuck with the memory of a landline?

  “Okay, let me show it to you this way.” I typed in the volunteer group—‘All you need is love’—that Mom had recently formed with her friend Katie, with my help. “We made this group page last month and it’s really simple. It’s kinda like a bulletin board. Just digital. And you can see the members of the group right here.” I moved the screen closer to her and clicked on “members.”

  “See, here’s Mom, me, and even Dad. All these people got invited and accepted the invite.”

  Once again, Mrs. Rock squinted at the screen. “Okay, I think I get it now. You get an invitation to join this, um, bulletin board and from there you’re in, um, there and can see all this?” She made a circular motion with her hand, making all her jewelry jiggle.

  “Yes, and when we’re ready—I mean, we need a few photos and a small description—we just invite everyone we would love to share it with. Who do you want to invite?”

  “Oh dear, um, my sister, I guess. Not too many in my generation are on Facebook or Te-te-telegram?”

  “Instagram,” I helped her. “So, your sister, but surely your son, Aaron, or his kids must be on Facebook.”

  By the mentioning of his name, her eyes glossed over. She hesitated for a moment but then whispered, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” She looked down and readjusted her dress.

  “But you went to Europe together. He must be curious to see all these places again, no?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath. “It’s not as simple as that. Besides, I heard he went back years ago. With his fiancée, at the time.”

  “But—”

  “—I know what you’re trying to do. I also know where all this is coming from. Where you get this from.” She smiled but it didn’t quite reach her gray eyes.

  “What this?”

  “Your dad is such a, um, he truly wants to save the world. Not for the sake of money or prestige. He’s truly a a—”

  “—tree hugger. I know. They both are. Mom has joined, like, four committees—one for gun violence, one for LGBT, one for women’s equality in the workplace, and one I can’t remember, and that’s only this past month. She’s a saint.”

  “Well, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “Oh no, that’s not true. I love to help out when Mom and Dad drag me along, but I’m no saint. The first time I went, I only came along for the donuts.” It was true. Saving the world as a four-year-old could never compete with the promise of a few Dunkin’ Donuts. It was as simple as that.

  “No, but your heart is in the right place.” She placed her little hand over her chest and exhaled deeply. “And that’s pretty much all that matters. Anyway.” She grabbed onto the armrest and rose to her feet. “Well, I say we’ve had enough social media lessons for today. How about I go and fill these glasses up and you do what it is you need to do?” She collected the glasses and party umbrellas. “The other guests must be arriving anytime soon,” she informed me as she headed for the door.

  As I watched her leave down the hall, I couldn’t help thinking about what she had just said … Do what it is you need to do. Was she giving me permission to invite Aaron after all? Was she reasoning that if it didn’t come directly from her, she could not be rejected, not officially that is?

  I looked at the screen—at the tiny magnifying glass just waiting for me to start searching—and slowly, I started to type his name as I recalled it from all the drawings back at her office: “Aaron T. Rock.” To my surprise, there were only three Aaron T. Rocks on Facebook. I could easily rule out the first one, just from the small thumbnail. He looked like he was not a day older than fifteen, He was sporting a buzz cut and one of those “I Love Haters” t-shirts and on his shoulder sat a little monkey, like he was freaking Jack Sparrow.

  The next guy was bold and appeared to be somewhere between mid to late thirties, which could be the right age. I clicked on his profile picture and took a closer look. He looked nothing like Mrs. Rock, with his round face and bulgy and unkind eyes. But he could have taken after his dad, so he was definitely a candidate. I clicked on the next Aaron T. Rock and by the time his full-sized profile picture had downloaded properly, there was no question that he was the right Aaron. He looked so much like Mrs. Rock that it was almost uncanny. He was standing at a poolside, with palm trees in the background, smiling directly at the camera. A boy and a girl, both wearing Mickey Mouse ears, were kneeling in front of him.

  “We won. Momma wanted to go to Mexico, but we wanted to go to Disney. Thanks, Dad! Love, Kyle and Luka Beatrice.”

  My heart almost jumped when I read that last part. Beatrice—wasn’t that Mrs. Rock’s middle name? If Aaron had named his daughter after his mom, maybe there was still hope.

  I took a deep breath and hit “send friend request.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The real surprise

  “Oh, there’s she is, and all dressed up.” Mom saluted me with one of her pink drinks. “Are you ready, birthday girl?”

  “I guess.” My eyes moved to Mrs. Rock sitting right next to Mom, and I felt a flush creep up my neck. Had I just ended years of painful silence between her and her son, or had I started another wordless war?

  “You look absolutely stunning.” Mrs. Rock made a gesture toward me. “Yellow suits you. Not sure how you pull it off with that red hair.” The word “red” came out more like a swear word.

  “Thank you. I guess.” I looked over at Mom and her red hair, and she smiled.

  “Mrs. Rock was just telling me about the Facebook page. I love it. Does that mean I don’t need to bring the good old polar?” Mom nodded at the big Polaroid camera lying right in front of her, ready to take irreversible pictures.

  “I guess, which will also mean one suitcase less,” I joked.

  “Ha ha ha. You’ll thank me one day for all the memories. I’m just saying. When I—” Her voice was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. “I wonder who that can be?” Mom’s eyes darted across the counter to Dad and they both smiled.

  “Well, it’s hardly a surprise by now,” I reminded them, giving Dad the stink eye.

  “Well, it’s still your guests,” Dad insisted when I didn’t make a move to get up. “Go open it already.” Dad motioned toward the door and the loud banging. “You be the surprise.” He placed a finger on his mouth. “Shhh.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going. I’m going,” I whispered as I tiptoed down the hallway. Trying not to make a sound, I carefully turned the doorknob and yanked the door open. “Surprise,” I yelled from the top of my lungs, but I sure was the one who was genuinely surprised.

  Maddie was standing on top of the doorstep, wearing a long green gown and a silly party hat with feathers, flags, and flowers. Right behind her, Martha, Frederick, Eleanor, and Thomas were all lined up, wearing the same silly hats.

  “Surprise!” Maddie squealed as she threw herself at me. “Happy birthday!”

  Speechless, I wrapped my arms around her and took in her familiar scent. “You’re really here?” I asked stupidly.

  “I am.” She took a step back and gave me a once-over. “And you, you look stunning. Motherhood suits you, sista.”

  “But how, when, who?”

  “They just picked me up from the airport—your extended family.” She gestured toward Thomas, Eleanor, Martha, and Frederick. You can say something now,” she joked, and that’s when I realized they hadn’t said a word. They had respectfully waited for Maddie and me to have this special moment alone.

  “Surprise,” they all said at the same time, giggling.

  “We were not really the surprise, we know, but we did come here to celebrate.” Martha held up a big birthday cake for me to see. “Celiac and kid-friendly.” Her voice was laced with pride. “Well, are you gonna invite us in or not?”

  “Abby said something about some mysterious pink drinks.” Thomas made a drinking motion with his hand and smiled. “Can we come in?” He lo
oked down at my arm blocking the entrance.

  “Of course.” I stepped aside and waved a hand at them, my face all flushed. “I’m sorry, I think I’m in shock.” I was. I still couldn’t believe that Maddie was finally here, in flesh and blood.

  “Wait until you get to your eightieth birthday, then we can talk about a shock.” Marth winked at me and reached for Thomas’s outstretched hand.

  “Mom, you’ll live to be a hundred.” Thomas looked up at me and smiled. “Right, Ella?”

  “Well not without my handsome husband, right Frederick?” She leaned over and kissed me. “Happy twenty-first birthday, my dear. Age is just a number, right? Love will keep you alive and young.” She nodded at me, then slipped inside.

  “Happy birthday.” Thomas brushed his lips softly against my cheek, then wrapped his arms around me and lifted me off the ground. “Remember what I said would happen when you turned twenty-one? What I promised?” He sat me down again and looked me straight in the eyes. “No?” His breath was labored a bit.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, a wave of nerves overwhelming me. Had I forgotten something?

  “Well, remember I said that you went from like seventeen to thirty in a heartbeat?” He looked down at my feet and smiled when he saw my bare toes.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ve decided that—” He stopped midsentence and looked up at the orange sky. When he looked at me again, he had lost half his smile. “It’s just, twenty-one is a big milestone. It’s when you join the adulth—”

  “—Come on, already,” Maddie said right behind his back. “We’re drying up here. Save the birthday speeches for later. Let’s get to the drinking part.” She shoved her big duffel bag into Thomas’s arms, and he smiled at her.

  “Yeah, hear hear.” He turned and faced Ella and Frederick. “Come on, Dad, sweetie?”

  Ella linked her arm with her granddad and they began ascending the stairs.

  “I, for one, would love to hear the rest of that speech,” Ella said as we all followed Maddie in her loud determined footsteps.