Except, Brydie thought, he hasn’t been invited. Neither of you has been invited. Instead, what she said was, “Okay, well, I’ll see you then.”
“Call me with directions tomorrow when you’re off work?”
“Okay.”
Brydie hung up the phone and shoved it back into her pocket. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised about her mother’s behavior, but for some reason, she was. Maybe it was because it had been nearly a year since she’d lived with her mother. Maybe it was because she’d simply been too busy to think about it. Now, however, Brydie was thinking about it. She was thinking about how she was going to have to introduce her mother to Nathan. The thought made her grimace. Now she had less than twenty-four hours to prepare and still not a damn clue who Roger was.
ROSA HAD BEEN RIGHT—just after the doors closed at 6 A.M., ShopCo brought out more of everything that could possibly needed for Thanksgiving dinner and gave each of the employees a ham. Brydie rushed home to start on everything and feed Teddy so that she could at least get a couple of hours’ sleep before the day got hectic.
Teddy looked at her curiously as she buzzed around the kitchen. He cocked his head from one side to another as pots and pans clanged around on the stove and Brydie talked to herself under her breath.
“Do I look like a crazy person?” she asked him, her hands coated in stuffing. “Because I feel like a crazy person.”
Teddy rushed to her feet when he saw a bit of stuffing drop from her hands onto the tile. He snorted as he scarfed up the food, and Brydie couldn’t help but laugh just a little at the symphony the combined noises made. She was just about to wrap up in the kitchen when her doorbell rang. It was just eleven o’clock and Brydie was surprised to see Elliott standing there on her doorstep holding Mia.
“Sorry for barging in,” Elliott said, huffing into the hallway. “Leo and I had a horrible fight. He wasn’t supposed to work today, but he scheduled two meetings with clients.Two! It’s fucking Thanksgiving, and he’s scheduling meetings with clients.”
“Mommy!” Mia gasped. “Mommy, that’s a bad word.”
“I know,” Elliott replied, setting Mia down and rubbing at her temples. “Mommy’s sorry. Go play with Teddy, okay?”
“Okay!”
“Are you okay?” Brydie asked, beckoning Elliott into the living room. “Sit down. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“I’m having lots of Braxton Hicks contractions,” Elliott replied. “I never had them with Mia. It’s awful.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Elliott waved her off. “It’s just, the only time I really have to sleep is during the day when I feel okay, but with Leo at work all the time and Mia out of preschool this week for Thanksgiving, well, I just haven’t gotten a lot of rest.”
Brydie looked longingly in the direction of her bedroom. If Elliott hadn’t showed up, she’d be getting a few hours of sleep before people arrived for dinner. But she also knew that she had the next few days off from work, and Elliott really looked like she needed to sleep. “Why don’t you go into the bedroom and take a nap?” Brydie offered. “I can watch Mia. I have a ton to do in the kitchen, anyway.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Elliott replied, but she was already pushing herself up off the couch and heading toward the bedroom.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well, only if you’re sure . . .” Elliott trailed off as she rounded the corner into the bedroom. “Wake me up in an hour or two, and I’ll help you in the kitchen.”
Brydie had no intention of waking her. She turned on the television and called out to Mia and Teddy, “What do you want to watch, Mia?”
Mia shrugged. “Do you have Doc McStuffins?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s a cartoon, silly!” Mia plopped herself down in front of the television. “About a doctor for toys!”
“Do you know what channel that is?” Brydie flipped to the program guide. “I don’t know where the cartoon channels start.”
Mia sighed. “It’s Disney Junior!”
After a few minutes of searching and much complaining by Mia, Brydie was finally able to find the right channel. “Are you hungry?” Brydie asked, once she’d gotten the child settled.
“Mmmhmmm.”
“What sounds good to you?”
Mia looked up at Brydie, a devilish grin on her face. “My mommy is asleep, right?”
“Yes.”
“Can I have some candy?”
Brydie tried her best not to laugh and replied, “I don’t think I have any candy. But I do have some chocolate chip cookies. Would you like two?”
“And milk?”
“Of course.” Brydie padded off into the kitchen. Mia was like a miniature version of Elliott, all the way down to the way she spoke. She’d witnessed the two of them negotiating with each other, and it was usually pretty hard to tell which one came out on top.
Brydie opened up one of the cabinets and took down a cup and a plate. She’d often wondered if, when she was married, her children with Allan would be more like her or like him. She’d hoped that they would be outgoing like him, not afraid to try new things or speak their minds. Her own adventures were usually limited to the kitchen, despite Allan’s best efforts to get her to spread her wings.
“Let’s go skydiving,” he’d say. “Let’s buy an old stock car and fix it up to race! Maybe some weekend we could go rafting on the Buffalo National River!”
She and Allan had some pretty ugly fights about her “never wanting to do anything.” But it wasn’t that Brydie hadn’t wanted to do anything. It was that Brydie hadn’t wanted to do those things. When she’d suggested going away for the weekend to a vineyard for wine tasting, Allan told her they could drink wine together at home. When she’d said she wanted to visit the Gulf Coast for a week in the summertime, Allan told her the creeks and rivers in Arkansas were just as good as the ocean, a sight she’d still never seen.
Brydie wondered, as she set the plate of cookies and glass of milk in front of Mia on the floor, if Cassandra was willing to go white-water rafting and stock-car racing with Allan. Maybe the two of them would have lovely, outgoing children together. The thought should have made Brydie cringe, but for some reason, it didn’t.
She’d always thought that if she and Allan had had children together, they never would have gotten divorced. She realized now that that probably wasn’t the truth. It was just something she told herself when she was feeling her lowest, a way to blame herself for what happened between them, and even if they had stayed married, what then? What if she’d had a child just like Allan, and for the rest of her life she was subjected to skydiving and bungee jumping and hikes in the Grand freaking Canyon?
That thought did make her cringe.
“Bwydee?” Mia looked up at Brydie, who was still crouched down next to her. “Do you like this show, too?”
Brydie blinked, bringing herself back to reality. “What? Oh, yes. Yes. It’s really good.”
“I want to be a doctor someday,” Mia replied. “But not for toys. For real people.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. I want to cut people open!”
Brydie bit at the corner of her lip to keep from laughing. This kid was something else. “Well, I have a friend coming to dinner tonight who’s a doctor. Maybe you can talk to him about it.”
“Really?” Mia clambered to her feet, knocking the milk over onto the carpet in the process. “Oh no! I’m sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Brydie replied. “The carpet is white anyway. Nobody will ever know.”
Mia looked up at Brydie through her eyelashes and said, “I stepped on a cookie, too.”
BY THE TIME five o’clock rolled around, the entire house smelled like Thanksgiving, and despite Brydie’s exhaustion, she was eager to have a house full of people to feed. Rosa and Lillian showed up at two o’clock on the nose to help prepare, their arms full of hallacas.
“I know
I said we would bring a pie, but I thought you might like to try the hallacas,” Rosa said, gesturing to the large tray Lillian was carrying.
“That’s fantastic!” Brydie exclaimed, taking the tray from Lillian. “Thank you so much. I’m excited!
The three of them and Mia were hard at work when Elliott wandered out from the bedroom, yawning.
“How long have I been asleep?”
“All day, Mommy,” Mia replied, rolling her eyes at her mother.
Elliott glanced up at the clock above the stove. “You let me sleep all afternoon? I told you to wake me up!”
“I had plenty of help,” Brydie said. She gestured to Rosa and Lillian. “Elliott, this is Rosa and this is her daughter, Lillian. We work together at ShopCo. Rosa, Lillian, this is my best friend, Elliott.”
“Hello,” Rosa said, taking inventory of Elliott’s round belly. “You’re having a boy, yes?”
Elliott glanced from Rosa over to Brydie. “Um, yes. How did you know?”
Rosa reached out and put both of her palms flat on Elliott’s stomach. “You’re carrying low. And you’re due soon? Next month?”
“January,” Elliott replied. “Not until the middle.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if that baby comes earlier,” Rosa replied, turning back to her work. “He’s going to be a big boy.”
Elliott raised her eyebrow at Brydie.
Brydie only grinned and continued working. When the doorbell rang, Mia jumped down off the chair she was standing on and hollered, “Let me answer it!”
“Not without me!” Elliott trailed off behind her, and when the pair returned, Ruth Benson followed them with a man who, Brydie had to assume, was Roger.
“It’s just an old man and an old lady,” Mia said, clearly disappointed.
“Mia!” Elliott exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink. “What did we discuss about thinking before speaking?”
Mia shrugged and reached out for Rosa to hoist her back onto her chair.
Brydie gave Mia a sly wink and dried her hands off on a hand towel before approaching her mother. “Hi, Mom,” she said, allowing herself to be drawn in for a hug. “I’m glad you made it.”
“The traffic was awful,” her mother replied. “I don’t know how you drive in this every day.”
“It’s not so bad by the time I leave for work,” Brydie replied. She turned her attention to the man beside her mother. “Hi. I’m Brydie.”
“I’m Roger,” the man said, holding out his hand to her. “Thanks for having me.”
“Oh, it’s my pleasure. Dinner won’t be ready for another hour or so, but there’s beer in the fridge, and you’re welcome to find something on TV to watch.”
“Actually,” Roger replied, holding up a basket with his other hand, “I made green bean casserole, and I was wondering if I might be able to warm it up before dinner.”
“Roger’s quite the cook,” Brydie’s mother said, beaming. “He cooks for me almost every night!”
“Really?” Brydie asked. “Are you a real estate agent, too?”
Roger shook his head. “Nope. In fact, I met your mother when I went to list my house. I’m a contractor by trade.”
“He came in to sell his house, but I guess I sold a little more than that,” Ruth replied, giving Roger’s arm a squeeze.
Brydie fought the urge to roll her eyes and said, “Well, come on into the kitchen.”
“Where should I put our coats?” Ruth asked Brydie. “Do you have a place for them?”
“You can just put them in the living room.”
“I don’t want to leave them just lying around.”
“Fine,” Brydie replied. “You can take them back to the bedroom. I’ll show you.”
“This house is lovely,” her mother said. “It could use a few updates, but I’m impressed with how well it’s been kept.”
“You can just put them on the bed,” Brydie said, motioning to her bed.
“You didn’t bother to make your bed before company?” her mother asked, making a tsk-tsk noise under her breath.
“It was made,” Brydie replied. “But Elliott took a nap earlier. I guess she forgot to make it back up. It’s really not a big deal.”
“Isn’t that Mia of hers just a doll?”
“She is.”
“And she’s pregnant with a boy now?”
“Yep.”
“Have they decided on a name?”
Brydie shrugged. “I don’t think so just yet.”
“I wish you’d had one. I’d love to be a grandmother.”
Brydie gritted her teeth. “Maybe Elliott and Leo will let you be the godmother,” she said. Then you can show up on their doorstep uninvited for Thanksgiving, she thought.
“Where is Leo? I didn’t see him.”
“I think he had a meeting or something.”
“On Thanksgiving?” Ruth looked down when Teddy shuffled into the room, snorting his displeasure at all the people to Brydie.
“Had enough already?” Brydie asked him.
“Is that the,” Ruth paused, taking inventory of the little pug beneath her feet, “the dog you’ve been charged to care for?”
Brydie nodded and reached down to scratch Teddy between the ears. “This is Teddy Roosevelt.”
“I can’t decide if he’s cute or ugly.”
“I felt the same way at first,” Brydie said. “But he’s really quite lovable.”
“I sold a house for a couple who had four or five of this kind of dog,” Ruth continued. “It took us hours to get that house ready to show. Dog hair was everywhere.”
“He sheds some,” Brydie admitted. “But I hardly notice. It’s nothing a lint roller can’t fix, anyway.”
Brydie felt a shiver of relief run through her when she heard the doorbell ring. She wished her mother would just relax and have a good time instead of asking so many questions and lightly insulting Teddy, but she tried to remind herself that she didn’t mean anything by it—that was just her mother, and it had been months since the two of them had been in the same room. “I’d better go see who that is,” she said.
By the time Brydie got to the door, Mia had already answered it. Standing in the hallway were Nathan and Sasha, and behind them were Joe and Myriah. Brydie knitted her eyebrows together. She hadn’t remembered Nathan telling her he was bringing Myriah.
Joe squeezed past Nathan and held up a covered dish. “Here,” he said, his voice gruff as ever. “I thought you might need a pie, but I can see now that you didn’t.”
“No, it’s great,” Brydie replied, anxious to make Joe comfortable. “What is it?”
Joe grinned. “It’s my specialty—shepherd’s pie.”
“I love shepherd’s pie,” Nathan cut in, releasing Sasha to find Teddy so that the two could begin their playful round of introductions. “I haven’t had it in ages.”
Joe beamed. “You’ve never had shepherd’s pie like my shepherd’s pie,” he replied. “Not even them Brits over there can make it like me.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Nathan said.
“Come on inside,” Brydie said, motioning for them to follow her. “There’s no need to hang out in the hallway.”
“I hope it’s okay that I tagged along today,” Myriah said. “It’s just me and my dad, you know, and he had to work.”
“Of course,” Brydie replied. “The more the merrier.” She felt a wave of guilt wash over her for being suspicious of Myriah. She really was a nice girl, even if she did tend to always be in the same spot as Nathan.
“Something tells me you don’t really mean that,” Nathan whispered to her when everyone had disseminated from the hallway and they were alone. “You look a little stressed.”
“Yesterday there were six people coming to dinner. Now there are nine, and one of them is my mother,” Brydie whispered back. “Stressed doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“Your mother?” Nathan raised his eyebrow at her. “Where?”
“Right here,” came a
voice from behind them. Ruth Benson swanned over to Nathan, her hand stuck out to him as if she expected him to kiss it. “I’m Ruth Benson.”
“I’m Nathan Reid,” Nathan replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Are you that doctor?”
“I am.”
“Well, aren’t you just gorgeous!”
Brydie shot her mother a look before saying, “Mom, why don’t you let me introduce you to the people I work with.”
“We can do that in a minute,” her mother replied, not taking her eyes off Nathan.
“Let’s do it now.” Brydie grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled her toward the kitchen. “Besides, I need to check on the pumpkin pie.”
“He’s very attractive,” her mother said, waving goodbye to Nathan over her shoulder. “Much more good-looking than Allan ever was.”
“Mom.”
“What? I’m just saying.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Fine.”
The kitchen looked an awful lot like the bakery at ShopCo with Rosa, Lillian, and Joe all hovered around the stove, staring down at Brydie’s pumpkin pie. “Is something wrong?” Brydie asked. “Did it not bake okay?”
“It looks amazing,” Rosa said, holding the pie out for her to view. “We were just talking about how perfect it is.”
“Oh good,” Brydie replied, feeling at least part of her stress dissolve. “Everyone, this is my mother, Ruth. Mom, this is Rosa, her daughter Lillian, and Joe. We work together.”
“Hello,” Ruth said.
“Hello,” Joe said, reaching out his hand to her. “Your daughter is a very talented baker. We’re uh, we’re real lucky to have her.”
“Well, I’m happy to hear it,” Ruth replied. “She does make the best pumpkin pie of anyone this side of the Mason-Dixon.”
“Did she get her skill from you?”
Brydie’s mother hesitated. “No . . . her late father, actually. He was always a much better cook than I.”
“I’m so sorry,” Joe said, looking helplessly from Brydie to her mother. “I didn’t know.”
“It’s just fine,” Ruth replied. “I’m sure you didn’t know her mother was still alive until today.”
“I don’t know much of anything today,” Joe admitted. “I’m usually sound asleep right about now.”
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