by Lee McKenzie
“Nathan, sorry I didn’t meet you and Kristi at the door. I was whipping cream and I didn’t want to leave it.”
“No problem, Mom.” He set the box on the counter and kissed her cheek. “You look wonderful.”
“Thank you. What’s in the container?”
“Kristi’s cupcakes. They are really good.”
“You’ve already sampled her cupcakes?”
He studied her face, expecting a sassy smile to accompany that remark. Instead, she opened the container. “Wow. These are really something.”
“I know. She brought some for the girls, sort of a reward for clearing out their bedroom, and they loved them.”
His mother covered a tray of deviled eggs with plastic wrap and slid it into the fridge. “She runs a business, sews her own clothes, decorates cakes…she sounds like a keeper.”
“Mom…please.” He didn’t want to go there.
“I’m just saying…”
“I know you are, but don’t start. Not today, okay?”
“Is something wrong?” Her concern was genuine, and it touched him.
“Everything’s fine. Her daughter and I had a little run-in yesterday, and she’s not very happy with me right now.” He wasn’t looking for sympathy or advice, he just wanted to explain the situation up front. Nothing got past his mother, and Jenna’s frosty demeanor was not subtle so she wouldn’t miss it.
“Blended families require a big adjustment. They take work,” she said. “And patience.” She rinsed a mixing spoon and put it in the dishwasher. “Can you get me a clean towel, please?”
He pulled one from a drawer and passed it to her. Blended families? Geez, where did that come from? This wasn’t even a real date, but then she didn’t know that.
“We just met. Talking about families is a little premature.” Raising a pair of four-year-olds was hard enough. He wasn’t ready for a teenager.
“Don’t worry,” she said, filling the coffeepot with cold water. “I would never say anything in front of Kristi and her daughter, but I have a good feeling about this. All I’m saying is that it’s going to take work.” She measured ground coffee into the basket.
Time to change the subject, he decided. If Kristi or, heaven forbid, Jenna were to walk into the kitchen right now, he didn’t want them to overhear this conversation. Ditto for his sister. His mother might not say anything to Kristi, but Britt wasn’t known for her restraint.
“Would you like some help?” he asked.
“Since it’s such a beautiful day, I thought I would serve brunch in the sunroom. The table’s already set, but you can start carrying the salads out there.”
“You made more than one salad?”
“I made four.”
“Four salads?”
“That’s right. I always make potato salad for your father—it’s his favorite. I made a green salad for Britt because it’s swimsuit season and she’s watching her weight. And it is her birthday, after all. There’s also the macaroni salad that Molly and Martha like so much, the one with ham in it. I wasn’t sure if Kristi and Jenna would care for any of those, so I whipped up a fruit salad, as well.”
Nate opened the fridge. The four huge salads seemed like way too much for eight people, but he kept that thought to himself. “What’s in the oven?” he asked, setting the bowls on the counter.
“Quiches. Your father has to watch his cholesterol, but since it’s a special occasion, I promised I’d make quiche lorraines for him.”
For most of his life Nate had taken his parents’ easy, comfortable relationship for granted. It was only in the past few years that he’d realized they worked at it, not because they had to but because they wanted to, and after all these years they were still very much in love.
“The salad servers are in the second drawer, next to the stove,” his mother said. “I also made tomato and basil quiches, in case Kristi and her daughter are vegetarian.”
He peeked through the oven door as he opened the drawer. Four quiches. Enough food to feed a small army, as usual. He peeled plastic wrap off the salad bowls, stuck a serving spoon into each and carried two of them into the sunroom.
The table was set with white china and crisp-looking green linens, a centerpiece of freshly cut flowers from his mother’s garden and his grandmother’s silver candelabras, which had been polished till they sparkled. He knew his mother well enough to realize she’d set the table last night, but he was also certain she’d been up since before dawn to make sure Britt had a special day.
He set the salads on the sideboard and met Kristi on his way back to the kitchen. She was carrying the other two salads.
“Your mother said you were out here.”
He took one of the bowls from her, liking the feel of her hand against his as she let it go.
“Thanks,” she said after the transfer was made. “Where should I put the fruit salad?”
“Over there with the others.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of salads.”
“This is just the beginning,” he said. “There’s also a tray of deviled eggs and umpteen quiches. Then there’ll be a birthday cake, and I’m sure dessert won’t stop there because my mother was whipping cream when we arrived.” So much for his father’s arteries.
She laughed at that. “Oh, my goodness. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought the cupcakes.”
“Mom was impressed that you made them.” He touched the small of her back on their return to the kitchen, and he leaned in to whisper, “She says you’re a keeper.”
Kristi stopped walking. “She said that?”
“She did.” Although, after asking his mother not to say anything to Kristi, he had no idea why he was telling her.
“Well, I’m flattered. What did you say?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I downplayed it as much as I could. Reminded her that we’d just met and we’re taking things slow.”
A flirty little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Right. Good answer.”
She was thinking about their Friday-night kiss. And their Saturday-afternoon kiss. That was a lot of kissing for two people who’d just met and were going slow.
“I don’t want her to get the wrong idea,” he said. “We don’t want to go down that road.” That was such a contradiction, given that he was pretty far down the wrong road himself.
“But we don’t want her to get the right idea, either.”
“The right idea?”
She leaned close, and her whisper caressed his ear. “That we’re not really dating at all.”
For a few seconds he was only aware of his physical reaction to her warm breath against his skin.
“All right, you two. Get a room.”
He’d been so caught up with Kristi, he hadn’t seen Britt walking toward them with the deviled eggs. Had she heard what Kristi said? Judging by her approving grin, she had not.
Kristi pulled away, her face flushed.
“God, you guys are cute.” Britt winked as she breezed by. “Kristi, my mom dug out her cupcake stand for you.”
“She has a cupcake stand?”
“Actually, she has two. Crate & Barrel has nothing on our mother. Right, Nate?”
What could he say? He didn’t want to talk about cupcakes or their mother’s extremely well-equipped home. He wanted everyone to go away. He wanted Kristi to whisper something, anything, in his ear again. It didn’t even have to be real words.
“Right,” he said instead. “Come on. I’ll
give you a hand.”
Kristi let him guide her down the hallway and into his mother’s kitchen.
You can do this, he told himself. You’re a smart guy. He would get through this phoney date, he would figure out a way to get Jenna on his side and he would ask Kristi out on an actual date. No kids, no dogs, no family. Just the two of them, for real.
* * *
THE BRUNCH WAS elegantly simple, very much like Nate’s mother, Kristi thought. Her family’s events tended to be a little more freewheeling and raucous, which now had her second-guessing the wisdom of inviting him to Aunt Wanda and Uncle Ted’s next weekend. The Fourth of July festivities would take place in their backyard and every year it was the same, with Uncle Ted presiding over the barbecue and her cousin Bart in charge of keeping the cooler stocked with soft drinks and beer. Aunt Wanda would provide a mountain of sweet, buttered corn on the cob, Kristi’s mom would bring coleslaw and Kristi would bake a double batch of her grandmother’s cupcakes, a family favorite that only she had ever learned to make.
It was always fun, but very different from brunch with Nate’s family. His parents sat at either end of the table. His mother had seated Jenna between the twins, and across from them Nate sat between Kristi and Britt.
This arrangement put Nate and Jenna directly across the table from one another, and by the middle of the meal her daughter had yet to look directly at him. On the one hand, Kristi didn’t blame her for being annoyed with Nate. On the other, her standoffishness was becoming tiresome. Nate was sorry he’d overreacted, and last night Kristi had pleaded his case. Jenna was having none of it, which, hormonal teenager aside, was out of character for her.
Kristi couldn’t tell if anyone else noticed her frostiness. And to her daughter’s credit, she good-naturedly helped Molly and Martha unfold their napkins and even cut their quiches into manageable bite-size pieces. She politely answered Helen’s and Roger’s questions about her friends and her favorite subjects at school, and she was clearly captivated by Britt’s vivaciousness. On the one occasion that Nate had addressed a comment directly to her, she had pretended not to hear and he had wisely let it go.
“Would anyone like more salad or quiche before I clear the table for dessert?” Helen asked.
Kristi quickly slid her chair back from the table. “Let me help.”
“Certainly not. You sit and chat with Britt. Pour yourself another mimosa if you’d like.”
“I’d like one,” Britt said. “It’s not every day a girl turns thirty, and I’m not driving.” She filled her champagne flute and reached for Kristi’s.
“Just half a glass, please.”
Britt poured a generous half. “Nate? More for you?”
“I’ll pass, thanks. I am driving.”
Helen nodded approvingly. “Good plan. Besides, I thought I would ask you and Jenna to give me a hand clearing away the dishes so I can serve dessert.”
“Birthday cake!” Molly shouted.
“Candles!”
Nate shushed them. “Martha, Molly. Inside voices, please.”
Kristi connected with Jenna’s wary look and gave her an encouraging smile, wondering as she did if Helen’s request was as innocent as it sounded.
Jenna got up and flipped her scarf over her shoulder. “What would you like me to do?”
“I’ll clear the table if you and Nate will take the salad bowls into the kitchen. He’ll show you where I keep the containers for leftovers.”
Nate leaned close and gave Kristi’s shoulder a gentle squeeze as he got up from the table. “Wish me luck.” Fortunately no one else could hear over the girls’ clamoring to help.
“I can carry stuff,” Martha said.
Molly’s fork clattered onto her plate. “Me, too.”
“Thank you, but I have a special job for the two of you,” their grandmother said.
“What?” they chorused. “What?”
“See that basket of presents over there by the door? How would the two of you like to carry them over to the table and put them next to your aunt Britt? Then she can open them right after we have cake.”
While Britt checked her iPhone for messages and Roger stepped outside to stretch his legs and “make room for dessert,” Kristi sipped her mimosa and watched Helen slowly and carefully stack the plates. She appeared to be taking her time so she could monitor her granddaughters as they ferried Britt’s gifts from the basket to the table, but Kristi wasn’t buying it. She had a pretty good hunch that Helen knew something was amiss between Nate and Jenna, and she’d intentionally sent them to the kitchen so they could work out their differences.
Would they, or would Helen’s plan make matters worse?
Kristi kept an ear tuned to the hallway that led to the kitchen, but heard nothing. How long did it take to pack up a couple of salads?
“Good job, girls. You’re both such great helpers, and I really like how you made sure the cards and gifts stayed together. Thank you.”
Helen bent and put an arm around each child. Martha rested her head against her grandmother’s thigh and popped her thumb in her mouth, but Molly only stayed for a second before bouncing back around the table and leaning next to her aunt.
“Aunt Britt?”
“Yes, Molly?”
“Do you need help opening your presents?”
“I definitely will. Any chance you and Martha would be interested?”
“Yes!”
Martha continued to cling to her grandmother, but she nodded vigorously.
Helen smoothed the little girl’s hair and helped her back into her chair, then slowly gathered up the cutlery.
She’s definitely killing time, Kristi thought.
Finally Helen picked up the dishes. “I’ll take these into the kitchen and see how Nate and Jenna are getting along.”
And there it was. She had picked up on Jenna’s resentment, or maybe Nate had said something to her, and she was giving them a chance to work out their differences. Kristi hoped her plan didn’t backfire.
* * *
NATE KNEW WHY his mother had sent him and Jenna into the kitchen together. He had deliberately not told her why Jenna was angry with him, but his mother was one astute woman. And because she thought he and Kristi were embarking on a serious relationship, she was taking it upon herself to fix things. Now it was up to him to find the right thing to say to Jenna so he didn’t make matters worse.
He found four empty containers in the pantry and set them on the counter.
“Here you go. We can put the leftovers in these.”
She didn’t say anything as she scooped macaroni salad from the bowl into the plastic container. She didn’t have to. The thump of the spoon against plastic spoke volumes.
“Jenna, I’m sorry about yesterday. I overreacted—”
Thump, thump, thump.
“Okay. I was completely out of line. I was…well, let’s face it…I acted like an ass, and I’m sorry.”
That worked. He could tell she wanted to smile but wasn’t giving in to the urge.
“My mom wouldn’t be happy to hear you swearing.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t. I’ll apologize to her, too.”
For the first time that day, she made direct eye contact. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Even my mom said so.”
“She’s right. After you went to the mall with your friends, she told me she would talk to you.” Apparently that conversation had not gone well.
Jenna crossed he
r arms. “Your kids wanted to play dress-up and I thought it would be fun for them to do makeup, too. We were just playing. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
From her perspective, he could see that was true. From his, with a mother-in-law who wanted to primp his daughters into a pair of pageant princesses, it had been a red flag. But that had nothing to do with Jenna, and he’d had no business losing his temper with her.
“You’re right. There was nothing wrong with it. It’s just that fathers…” As soon as the words were out, he realized that talking about fathers with a rebellious girl who didn’t have one was venturing into dangerous territory. “Fathers can be clueless when it comes to stuff like this.”
She seemed to relax a little.
“Even though Molly and Martha want to grow up and try new things, I guess I want them to stay the way they are.” He thought about telling her that if his girls were as great as she was when they were her age, he’d consider himself lucky. But that was a dumb idea. Jenna was way too smart to be won over by sugarcoated compliments.
“What I’m saying is that this is my problem, not yours. I had no right to take it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
She unfolded her arms and went back to work on the salad. He wasn’t sure if they were okay or not, but he hoped this was her way of letting him know they were.
“My mom hardly ever goes on dates.”
He hadn’t expected the conversation to turn on a dime, and he was totally unprepared for this new revelation. Telling her that he and her mother technically weren’t dating would be the wrong thing to say, but what was the right thing? He had absolutely no idea.
“Is that so?” The question sounded lame but it was the best he could do.
“She wants everyone to think it’s on account of my dad ditching us when I was little, but it’s mostly because she wants to set an example for me.”
Those were almost the exact words Kristi herself had used when she had explained the deadbeat reference. Did she realize that her daughter knew what was motivating her? Somehow he didn’t think she did.