“Well, I guess that is one way to do it,” my mother answered, unenthusiastically. “What do you think Suzanne?”
She tucked her shoulder length gray hair behind her ears and said, “That’s the way I usually work, but you mentioned when you called you wanted to see everything. So— “
Before she could continue her thought, Bea butted in. “You’re right. I’d like to see everything so I know that we made the right choice. If I don’t see everything how will I be sure? This is my wedding after all. I want,” my mother placed her right hand across her chest for emphasis, “I mean, I need everything to be perfect.” With a roll of her eyes she continued, “You know how those country club ladies can be. They are just so judgmental! And they talk so much!”
“You mean your friends, Mother?” I couldn’t help ask.
As if she didn’t hear me she continued her rant. “I want to make it impossible for them to find fault with anything we choose. I want them to be green with envy over all of my selections. They’re going to eat themselves alive that they didn’t think to get remarried this year too!”
Suzanne looked worried as she asked, “So you really want to see every floral arrangement we have prepared, Beatrice? You are aware we’ve been in business for thirty-two years.”
“I just thought we’d need ideas and pictures would help. But I guess, maybe, my daughter has a point.” My mother looked pained as she pointed this out. “How about I just tell you what I want?”
“Yes!” Suzanne and I both answered in unison.
“I want something big and bold, with lots of white roses. I want the centerpieces to really grab everyone’s attention when they walk in the dining room for the reception. Something that will make the ladies gasp. Don’t you agree, Annabel?”
I rubbed my eyes. “Honestly, no, Mother. I think something smaller and more delicate is the way to go. I like the idea of a round bowl, similar to a goldfish bowl, with cut white tulips or mini calla lilies in it. You know, something simple and elegant. And besides, if you keep the flowers small people can see each other and talk at the table rather than having to peek around the centerpieces.”
“Small? Goldfish bowls? Annabel, are you crazy? Where do you get these cockamamie ideas anyway?” My mother asked as Suzanne flashed me a sympathetic smile. “That is so minimalist. I don’t want anyone to think I had to scrimp on the flowers. I can see the rumors flying now. No bridge game would be complete without a comment from those gossips. Everyone will think I have to sell the house next. Or worse, that I married Walter for his money!”
I tried unsuccessfully to suppress my laughter. “Where do you get these thoughts?” I asked. “Simple doesn’t have to be a bad thing?”
“Your daughter has a point, Beatrice. More and more people are opting for basic arrangements,” Suzanne chimed in.
“Well, I am certainly not going to be one of them,” my mother huffed. “I want the flowers to make a statement. Show me a picture of your biggest, most expensive arrangement,” Beatrice ordered.
Suzanne went behind the counter and grabbed yet another book. She flipped through the pages until she found a picture of the most enormous and gaudy arrangement I had ever seen in my entire life. There were so many layers of flowers it almost looked like a wedding cake.”
“I love it!” Beatrice gushed and clasped her hands in joy. “This is perfect!” She exclaimed. I rolled my eyes, again. “Now I don’t know the final count but I’m sure I will need at least twenty of these. I have time I assume to give you the final count?”
“Of course,” Suzanne replied as she reached for her order book, under the counter.
“Wonderful,” my mother replied as she removed her American Express card from her Bottega Veneta wallet. “Now, as for the bouquets, since my daughter and granddaughter will be the only two accompanying me down the aisle, let’s make her happy, shall we?” My mother turned to me and flashed me one of her phony smiles. “Suzanne, make two small and simple calla lily bouquets, one for my daughter and one for me. Oh and I will also need a basket of white rose petals for my granddaughter to toss down the aisle.” My mother squeezed my forearm, “See Annabel, I am taking your opinion into consideration. Now, be a plum and run next door and get us a table while I finish up here. I’m parched; make sure to order me an iced tea. It needs to be unsweetened, remember. I have to watch my calories!” She sighed deeply.
CHAPTER 10
CATCHING UP ON WORK e-mails was my least favorite thing to do, but it seemed that every time I had a few minutes to spare, there I sat sorting out the mess that was my e-mail account. I swear emails are like gray hairs. You get rid of one and five more came in their place.
My mother approached the table at the small cafe next to the florist and snickered, “On your phone again? I don’t understand why everyone is so addicted to those things these days. It’s really getting out of control. Did I tell you what happened on Thursday when I was getting my nails done? Marcel interrupted my manicure to read and reply to a text from her daughter. I was dumbfounded!” My mother paused to take a sip of the iced tea that I dutifully ordered for her. “And then, to make matters worse, she kept the phone on the table the entire time she was doing my nails. She couldn’t stop peeking at it. I couldn’t believe the gall. I was paying for her services and her attention was elsewhere. She even clipped my cuticle and drew blood.” My mother shoved her right index finger in my face for me to examine, but it looked perfectly fine to me. “If I hadn’t used her for fifteen years I would have been forced to make a change right then and there. What kind of customer service is that?”
“Did you ever think maybe her daughter had a problem, Mother?” I was pretty sure the concept never even dawned on her. Despite the fact the woman gave birth to my brother and me, I often was left wondering if she had a maternal bone in her body. If she did, I sure haven’t witnessed it lately.
As if I didn’t ask a question, she continued, “Walter is the same way though. He checks his phone several times a day, too.”
“Several times a day?” I laughed. “That’s clearly not an addiction,” I replied. Fortunately for Walter he was in the process of retiring. My mother clearly wouldn’t be able to understand with today’s technology your workday never really stops. Clients expected immediate answers to their questions all hours of the day and night.
My mother tilted her head to the side in contemplation. “I guess you’re right, but it’s still distracting. Did I tell you he wants to get me a smart phone? Can you picture me, texting?” She asked as she took a long sip of her iced tea.
I cringed. Getting a weekly play-by-play of Bea’s poor customer service experiences was bearable. But now I will be bombarded with updates as they happen. One cheating move by one of her friends in a game of canasta or bridge - my phone may explode! But on the bright side, I will never miss a shoe sale at Nordstrom’s again.
“Hi, I’m Amy and I will be your server. Would you like to hear the specials?” A perky twenty-year-old girl asked with a huge smile.
I was about to say sure. Even though I hardly ever ordered the special I loved to know what was available.
Bea beat me to the punch, “No, thank you. I know exactly what I want. I’ll have the chopped salad, and make sure it is chopped finely. Last time I was here it wasn’t and I had to send it back. I don’t want any onions on it either, you know sometimes a sliver or two gets in. I don’t want that, if I find any onions in it I will have to send the salad back. Also, please put the tomatoes on the side. Sometimes they are too ripe and runny, ruining the crispiness of the entire salad. I want grilled chicken in it too, and pay attention, this is important. I need the chicken to be cubed and not in strips. Oh, and it must be dry. I don’t want it sautéed in a ton of oil or butter. I’m getting married in a couple of months and I have to watch my figure.” She offered the poor girl a smile, which wasn’t reciprocated. “Oh and as for dressing, I’d like your low calorie raspberry vinaigrette, but on the side, of course.”
/> The now weary waitress turned to me. After all my mother’s demands, I felt bad asking her about the specials, especially since I already knew what I wanted to eat. “I’ll have the Cobb salad, with ranch dressing. Thank you very much.”
As soon as she was out of earshot my mom chimed in, “Ranch dressing, Annabel? Are you serious? You do know how many calories there are in it, right? You might as well have ordered a cheeseburger?”
“I almost did, Mother, but I figured if I ordered one you’d have a meltdown, and it seems like Amy already has enough to handle as it is.”
Not wanting to get into another argument, I quickly changed the subject as we waited for our food. I filled my mother in on the conversation I had with Cole a few days earlier, which confirmed her belief that my former best friend indeed had slept with all my boyfriends. Shockingly, for the first time in more years than I could remember I really felt like she was focused on my story. She seemed to truly care about what I was saying, as opposed to just waiting to turn the conversation back to her.
It was a wonderful feeling, to have had some of her attention again. While my mother was far from being the loving and affectionate mother every daughter wanted, she wasn’t always as cold and distant as she is now. In fact, I remember when I was in middle school; she’d pick me up from gymnastics and she’d always ask me about my friends. She loved hearing all the drama. Often she shared stories of her own teenage years. I used to love those car rides. Man, I really missed those days.
When I finished my play by play of the conversation she simply said, “I’m really sorry you had to find out, but I am so thankful you married a man like Cole. There aren’t many guys like him around. He’s one of the few good ones.”
Before I could comment the waitress was back at our table. “Here you go,” she said as she placed our salads in front of us. I held my breath as my mom thoroughly examined hers. Fortunately the presentation passed because she simply thanked the waitress.
“Did you get a chance to go over the guest list, Annabel?” She asked as she slowly drizzled the dressing on her salad.
“I did, and it looks fine to me. I just think you missed inviting one person.” I answered right before I popped a piece of avocado into my mouth.
“Who?” My mother asked as she placed a few tomato cubes into her salad.
“Mindy, she wasn’t on the list.”
My mother let out a huff. “Oh, omitting her wasn’t an oversight. It was intentional. I have nothing to do with Mindy, and I haven’t for many years.”
I took a small bite of my salad. I was confused. When did my mom stop speaking to her, and why wasn’t I aware of this? Mindy was always a huge part of my life. She was a beautiful and vibrant woman, you know the kind who could light up a room with just her smile. She was always so kind to Brody and me. When we were little, every time she came to the house, which was practically every weekend, she always had a little something for us. When I entered my teens and I was confused about boys, she was the one I went to. She gave me dating advice and answered all my questions about sex. I found her so much easier to talk to than my mother, probably because she was only about fifteen years older than me. I think in a lot of ways I thought of her as the older sister I didn’t have.
“What happened with you and Mindy?” I asked. Mindy and my dad worked very closely together. In fact, they were pretty much partners. My dad was in sales and he and Mindy traveled all over the country together. Mindy would demonstrate the product and go over the basics with the prospective client. Then my dad would negotiate the terms and close the deal.
“You really don’t have any idea, do you?” Bea asked as she nibbled on a piece of lettuce.
I took a sip of my Diet Coke and shook my head. Most weekends the two of them would be huddled up together, in my dad’s study, as they strategized for the upcoming week’s meetings. There were many times Mindy would join us for dinner afterwards. She was always a part of our family.
My mother dabbed her lips with her napkin before announcing, “I will have nothing to do with that woman because she had an affair with my husband.”
It took every ounce of willpower I had not to spit my soda at her. I struggled to swallow my beverage as shock washed over me. How could this be? Hoping I misunderstood, I asked, “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” My mother answered and then she took a deep breath. “Your dad and Mindy were involved. They were intimate together. And, I’m afraid, for more years than I care to admit to you or to myself.”
“But I don't understand. How? When?” I stammered as images of my childhood and my teen life passed before my eyes like a bad movie.
My mother put down her fork and reached across the table and grabbed both my hands in hers. She squeezed gently. “Oh Annabel, I have struggled for so many years wondering if I should tell you this. I was determined to keep this situation a secret. It was a very private matter to me, as I’m sure you can appreciate. But Walter has encouraged me to open up more. He told me I couldn’t continue to keep everything all bottled up. It’s not easy for me to share my feelings and experiences, but despite the difficulty, I think he may be right. I do feel much better when I finally open up.”
“You told Walter about Daddy and Mindy’s affair?” I asked, dumfounded. Why didn’t she ever tell me?
“Of course, darling.”
“This is unbelievable. You’re always so closed mouthed.”
“Yes, I know. But there’s just something about the man.” Her face lit up. “He’s so easy to talk to. I’ve told him everything there is to know about me.” Then, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she added, “And for some strange reason none of it has stopped him from loving me.”
I took a bite of my salad and chewed slowly. Her words made me feel sad. Did she realize how difficult and distant she was? Did she think of herself as unlovable? Did I think she was unlovable?
“Walter is a great guy, Mom.”
“Yes, he sure is.”
“I’m glad you met him,” I said, honestly.
“Me too. Although, I’m not completely sure I deserve him. But hopefully he doesn’t realize that any time soon. Now, let’s get back to your dad and Mindy, shall we? It’s not a pleasant subject for me to talk about, so I’d rather just get it over with, if you don’t mind.”
I nodded.
“So, I’m not exactly sure when the affair started, but I have my suspicions. If I had to guess, I’d say it probably began about a year before Brody was born. But I’m not one hundred percent sure. All I can be sure of was I didn’t like the way your dad looked at Mindy. And I didn’t like how they spoke to each other either. There was always a very strong connection between those two. I hated the fact that she was always over at the house, preparing for sales meetings with your father. With the amount of hours he put in at the office, and the number of days he was traipsing across the country with her, they had more than enough time to prepare for a meeting without them needing to work together every single weekend, in my house no less! I mean, give me a break. Your dad and Mindy were the highest-ranking sales team the company ever saw. They didn’t need practice. They could close deals in their sleep.”
“Did you talk to him about it?” I asked. My mother had to be wrong. If I was being honest, I wasn’t surprised to learn he had an affair. He and my mom weren’t overly romantic with each other. I never saw a spark between them. In a lot of ways they seemed more like roommates than lovers or even friends. But I couldn’t imagine he would be cruel enough to bring his mistress home on a regular basis. Nor could I believe his mistress was Mindy.
“Of course I did, Annabel. He told me I didn’t understand how the business world operated. He would pontificate about what obstacles and difficulties he was up against each and every day. He sang me a river. And then, he would rub in my face the fact I never had a career to speak of. He stripped away my confidence and made me feel so useless and so insignificant. Which, by the way, was the reason why I pu
shed you so hard in school. I didn’t want you to feel the way I did all of my life.”
“I questioned him time and time again if he and Mindy were involved. He always denied it. Part of me wanted to believe him, but the bigger part of me knew I couldn’t. You have no idea how difficult it was to live with someone you fear is in love with another woman. It was a miserable way to live. My heart died a little every day. I was practically positive my husband was being unfaithful to me while I had to plaster on a phony smile as I entertained his mistress.”
A memory suddenly hit me, and I dropped my fork into my salad bowl. “Oh my God,” I said more to myself than to my mother. “Could Brody have been right?”
“What are you talking about, Annabel?” My mother asked pointedly.
“I never believed him,” my voice was barely audible, as I gently shook my head from side to side.
“Are you going to tell me what you are talking about?” my mother demanded.
“Brody. It was a long time ago. He was probably around eight years old at the time. Remember when he was obsessed with the Hardy Boys? He was constantly trying to manufacture mysteries so he could solve them.”
Beatrice smiled at the memory but didn’t say anything, so I continued. “He was always snooping around spying on us, hoping to catch a case. Well one day when Daddy and Mindy were working together he hid in Dad’s office. I don’t remember where you were, but you weren’t home. I knew what Brody was up to. I let him stay in there for about an hour, but after that I was worried he’d have to go to the bathroom or something, so I manufactured a problem. I knocked on his office door and told them I thought something was wrong with the dog.”
“Good thinking. I always felt your father preferred the dog to everyone else in our house.”
“I think you’re right,” I said with a small, sad smile. “Dad and Mindy came rushing out, which allowed Brody time to escape. Of course they found George fast asleep curled up on the sofa in the living room. I lied and said a few minutes ago he was walking strangely. Well that was all Daddy needed to hear. He was panicked. He nudged the dog to wake him up, strapped on his leash, and made a beeline for the front door with Mindy right behind him. As soon as they made it down the driveway I rushed upstairs to find Brody. He was sitting on his bed, cross legged, as pale as a ghost.”
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