“I’m not sure I can afford it, at least not yet,” Jordan said.
“Don’t worry about that,” my mother said. “The rent is for you to stay as you are, to help out around here, and I want you to take a class or two at the college. You decide what to take, but I suggest business or marketing, or maybe nursing, if you’re inclined. Something practical, and something you love, and something that allows you to educate yourself and better your station. That’s the rent.”
Jordan opened his mouth to say something, but was speechless. Mom leaned in to him, gave him a quick hug, and began to step toward the door. “Take a bit of time to collect yourself, if you need to,” she said, “and then get back over across the lot and let’s get this house snazzed up. I have family to show off to.”
A moment later she was gone.
“Is she serious?” Jordan asked, as he turned his hazel gaze between Vanessa and me.
“Dead serious,” Vanessa nodded.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jordan said. “No one has ever been as nice to me as you guys have been.”
I put my hand on his shoulders and turned him toward the door. “Then when you get back over to the Wheelers’, give Mom another hug and tell her just that.”
11
NOW THAT JORDAN had settled into Mom and Tom’s guestroom and she wasn’t worried about him sleeping in his car, she focused more on playing hostess.
She also called me repeatedly to make sure I had my house in order. I am not the world’s best or most consistent housekeeper – I leave pockets of clutter throughout – but I do try and tidy up regularly. At least I had been cleaning more often and more thoroughly since I had designs on having Roger over a lot, so my abode was presentable at the moment.
When I told my mother that, she relaxed.
“That’s good. That’s very good. When a relationship is new, that’s when you want to make your best impression. I’m assuming you’re shaving your legs and everything? Keeping your bikini line nice and neat, too?”
“I was going for that full 1970s vibe, actually,” I quipped.
My mother was silent. I could sense her disapproval over the phone. “You can’t be serious.”
“Well, winter is coming, and I thought the extra pelt would help keep me warm. Maybe Roger, too.”
“If you don’t maintain that, winter will be the only thing coming,” she said. “I am only trying to help you, my dear.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied. “I’m good here. If not, I’ll find out where you bought that bright, pink dong.”
“I bought it at Boudoir Arts off Ashmun, but I would not advise letting Roger see that thing until you can be sure he finds it more exciting than intimidating. Though I have talked to a couple young women who have bedded his brother Wyatt, and if it’s a family trait, let’s just say he’s got every reason to be proud.”
Man, am I ever behind in good gossip.
“I’ll take that under advisement. But seriously, you focus on your own, ah, shrubbery and your own square footage.”
I hung up the phone. I was both annoyed and amused by my mother’s meddling.
She was one to talk, I thought to myself.
Pre-Jordan, that house was the very model of chaos. As I thought about all the work he had accomplished in a few short days, I realized I probably needed to up my game. I spent that evening sprucing up my own digs. I had to admit, I wanted to show off a bit, too.
One day at lunchtime, Tom made his way over to my shop for a breather.
“Your mother is driving me crazy,” he griped as he sat at the table where I told fortunes. He wasn’t too annoyed, I could tell. His blue eyes still twinkled, and with his white hair, he wouldn’t be far from becoming a Santa Claus one December, especially if he grew a white beard and put on a few more pounds of belly fat. Mom wouldn’t allow that, however. She said she refused to be married to anything walrus-shaped.
That his home’s happy chaos was being structured into order, and he was being ordered to play a role in the cleaning-up, I knew made him miserable.
I was sidetracked by a thought, wondering if my mother made him dress up as Santa come Christmas, and if she sat on his lap and told him she had been a very naughty girl. Knowing my mother and her tendency to overshare, I guessed she probably hadn’t. If she had, I’m sure I would have heard a play-by-play recounting of her holiday-themed humping, along with insistent urgings that I should take up such activities for myself, with a man of my own, of course.
I shuddered and then scrubbed the thought from my mind. With any luck, I’d be on Roger’s lap wearing nothing but a Santa hat and strategically placed mistletoe. I let my mind wander for a moment and then roped myself back to the present, where Tom was talking at length about the never-ending honey-do list my mother had handed him.
“Aunt Lindy hasn’t visited in a while,” I said, “so I guess she wants to show her that she’s living a nice life,” I replied.
“She is,” Tom agreed. “Why the fuss to fancy it all up? Your mother went and ordered a new area rug for the living room. They’re set to deliver it today. She made Jordan and me move all the furniture to the side so she could sweep and vacuum before they bring it. Damned thing cost four-hundred dollars, too!”
“Is Jordan helping a lot,” I asked. I knew the answer, but wanted Tom’s take.
He nodded. “He’s working pretty hard, rearranging things. He’s taken some things out of storage and set them up in the house and around the shop. We actually have more stock on display, but it doesn’t look like it, due to his knack for arranging things. Your mother’s really taken a shine to him. I have to admit, having him around ahead of Lindy and Plenty’s visit, it’s making my life easier. Except that it’s making your mother point out even moreso what a slob I am.”
“She’ll get over it,” I promised.
“Once your aunt and cousin are gone?”
“Probably. And if Jordan seems to like cleaning, I’d let him make a few extra dollars doing upkeep around the house. It’ll keep Mom calmer, and – ” I paused.
“And it’ll make my life easier,” Tom finished.
“Exactly. Have you coaxed any more out of Jordan about his backstory?”
“No. Not really. I know his mother died some years back, but he won’t say much more than that about it. I think the wound is still fresh.”
“That’ll make Mom worry over him even more.”
“I think she pretty much is already seeing him as the son she never had,” Tom said. He slid his gaze in my direction. “Hopefully you’re not upset by that, Poppy.”
“No. I think she could use someone to mother. Plus, it might get her to be a bit less of a busybody about my life.”
“Do you really believe that?” Tom looked amused.
“Well, now that I said it out loud, I realize that I’ve probably conjured up the likelihood that she’ll do something invasive or extremely bossy in the days to come.”
“So long as you’re aware.”
Tom stood and looked around my shop. I knew he wasn’t interested in candles, teas or seasonal décor. I also knew what he was really looking for. I reached under the counter and pulled out a box of cookies I’d brought in the other day. His face brightened. He pulled a chocolate chip cookie out and bit into it, his expression one of bliss.
“Ah, that’s what I needed,” he moaned.
“I figured you could use a bit of sugar for the next round of mom’s slave-driving.”
He was already on his second cookie, this one a shortbread.
“Do you think she’s going to be like this every day, until the family leaves?” he asked.
“She’ll be tense, I’m sure,” I said. “I also predict she’ll head out to the salon to get her hair done and probably something to make her appear younger and richer.”
“Your mother is already a couple years younger than her sister,” Tom said.
“It doesn’t matter. She’ll want people to guess without any hesitation
that she is the younger sister. Preferably the much, much younger sister. Get ready for a big credit card statement is all I’m saying.”
Tom’s shoulders sagged for a second at that prediction, then he shrugged and said, “I’d rather spend the money to keep her happy.” He fished around in the cookie box until he found a snickerdoodle. Just then my mother stuck her head out of the side door of their red house and bellowed his name. He jerked in alarm and turned to look in her direction.
“My love, she calls,” he muttered, grabbing another pair of cookies for good measure before waving goodbye and making his way across the lot.
Some hours later my mother made her way into my shop, her purse in hand and car keys dangling from her wrist. Vanessa and Jordan were in tow. The trio looked like they’d been busy battling dust bunnies all day.
“How’s the shop and the house look?” I asked, as I went and flipped the placard from ‘Open’ to ‘Closed’ and locked the front door.
Vanessa sighed and rolled her eyes as she blew a loose tendril of hair up and out of her face. Her expression said it had been a crazy day.
“I saw that!” my mother snapped. “Everything looks tip-top now. The bathroom is sparkling clean. The clutter is out of the living room. The guest rooms upstairs – you know, the apartment space you used to rent – are in good shape and look phenomenal thanks to Jordan here. Tom moved anything extra we had laying around to the storage room above the shop, so things look more orderly. If Lindy has anything mean to say, I’ll tell her to stuff it.”
“Can anyone get in there without risking life and limb?” I asked, a smile spreading across my face. Vanessa fixed me with a pointed glare and shook her head.
“Vanessa, I saw that, too! It’ll be fine, so long as whoever goes into the room is careful,” my mother said.
“Words to live by,” I muttered. “So what are you doing here now?”
“I’ve decided since the house is in order, that we need to focus on ourselves.”
“Ourselves?” I was sure my mother would be in the spa dolling herself up, but she just went plural.
“Yes, all of us. We’re headed to the Chop Shop for some pampering and polishing,” my mother continued. “You can freshen up your hair color – I’m willing to pay extra if you will tone it down, maybe to a softer red?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression.
I shook my head. I knew her goal was to bring me back to blonde – a color I hadn’t been since I started college, aside from a few platinum streaks one semester – but I wasn’t budging. She was being clever, I had to grant her that, by suggesting a softer red. I wasn’t about to be fooled.
“Well, then, we’ll get fancied up. I’m going to get a facial,” she began – “and get my hair highlighted so I look a bit blonder. The three of you can opt for some kind of mask or a haircut. You decide.” She looked at my vermilion tresses again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to go maybe auburn instead of that screaming shade of red? Maybe a coppery red? Maybe Roger would like that, hmmm?”
I shook my head again. “Roger has told me he really likes the vibrant red.”
“Huh.” My mother said. “I have a hard time believing that. All men prefer blondes. That’s a fact.”
“Fiona,” Jordan began. “Poppy’s red hair actually makes her complexion pop. On someone else it would look sallow, but it really makes her glow.”
Vanessa nodded as well.
“Are you worried that Roger will see cousin Plenty and be dazzled by her blonde hair?” I mused.
My mother darted her eyes away, but from the look on her face I could tell that was what she was thinking. Cousin Plenty – who was plenty of work – was also plenty good looking.
Part of me worried – just a tiny bit – that Roger would be wowed. I’d seen plenty of men ogle Plenty, but since his jaw didn’t drop when he first laid eyes on Vanessa, I thought I’d maybe be okay there.
Plenty was a perpetually tanned, leggy, five-foot-nine, with buttery blonde hair and high cheekbones. While still in high school she had visited some modeling agencies to see if she could get signed, but aside from being featured in a bikini for a tanning salon ad, she hadn’t gotten any additional gigs.
My cousin tended to be a bit too opinionated on how her makeup should be done or which angle would be the best to capture her likeness. I knew those kinds of behaviors hindered her prospects. She at one time had a small bump on the bridge of her nose, which a couple of agencies told her would hurt her prospects, so she’d had a nose job – a good one, at that – but while the surgery had streamlined her profile, it hadn’t fast-tracked her career. Now that she was in her late twenties, chances of becoming a super model were slim to none.
Still, when she wore a mini-skirt or some filmy dress, she could command a lot of attention from a lot of men. And my mother knew that all too well and felt competitive about it.
“You do have your secret weapon here,” I said, motioning toward Vanessa. “No matter how hot Plenty will be – and I’m sure she’ll arrive wearing a short skirt and stilettos – Vanessa will outshine her and overshadow her with her beautiful face and huge boobs.”
“Roger really does love Poppy’s red hair, Fiona,” Vanessa piped up. “And Poppy is beautiful. She’s just not model-y blonde and all. Sorry, Poppy, I didn’t mean it like that. But you’re fairly tall and have a good figure. Your mom showed me a picture of your cousin. She’s pretty, but so are you. You’re different, in a good way.” She turned to my mother to continue. “Poppy does have that creamy complexion and more pouty lips and much bigger boobs than Plenty.” She darted her eyes in the direction of my chest.
“Everybody has bigger boobs than Plenty,” my mom said. “Even me, and that’s not saying much.” She looked down at her small chest and sighed. “Oh well, they’re not sagging much, so that’s one good thing.”
“And you can do jumping jacks without fearing you’ll be punched in the face,” Vanessa laughed.
It was fairly late by the time we left the salon. When I made it home I was pleasantly surprised to find Roger sitting on the front steps.
“How long have you been waiting?” I asked as I led him inside my house.
“Not long. I was playing a game of pool at the Classy Dive, and Tom came in, said you were all at the salon.”
As we entered my living room, he wrapped me in a hug. He felt solid and warm, which I liked. He smiled back, his sleepy ice-blue eyes squinting into an expression that looked much happier than the haunted look he’s sported when we’d first met some weeks prior. I reached up and petted his facial hair. His stubble was quickly coming in, casting a more ashy blond shadow on his face. It felt both scratchy and soft.
“You smell nice. You’re so soft,” he said as he caressed my cheek.
He told me about his day while I fed Fido and Puck. Both cats tucked into their kibble, but Fido – who was part Maine Coon and given a doggy name because he exhibited some canine behaviors – took a break to visit Roger.
Fido had quickly developed an affinity for him, as was evident by how he had abandoned his food for affection. The feline had taken to bringing him his favorite catnip mouse so Roger could throw it across the room for him. Roger indulged the cat with a few tosses of the toy before the cat hopped onto the sofa and tapped at his hand to indicate he wanted to be rubbed behind the ears.
“Did you eat?” he asked. “I had something earlier but I’m always game for another course.”
I shook my head. “I’m not really hungry. I’ll just make a sandwich or maybe heat something up later.”
“I could go get us something if you were,” he offered. “Or you could show yourself off with me at Gino’s or Padre’s.”
“Not tonight,” I said, taking a seat next to him on the couch and resting my hand on his forearm. “Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day and I’d like to relax. We can get breakfast before we open our shops tomorrow, if you’d like.”
“That sounds good.”
My pho
ne pinged, letting me know I’d received a text. I looked at it and shook my head.
“What is that?” Roger asked, as he glanced at the screen. “Is that some kind of vitamin?”
I shook my head. “It’s my cousin. She’s been recommending some nutritional supplement.”
“For what?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, waving off the question.
Roger squinted closer at the picture that accompanied the text. “Garcinia cambogia? Wait, isn’t that some kind of diet pill?”
“I think that’s what it’s mostly used for.”
“Are you taking those? Or thinking of taking them?”
I shook my head. “It’s a long story.”
“We have time.”
“In brief, my cousin Skyped me. She said my face looked puffy, and suggested I try some weight-loss supplements. She said she lost five pounds in a week on them.”
“You’re not going to try them, are you? That stuff tends to be snake oil and not very healthy.”
I sighed. “No, I don’t plan to take them. Plenty is a bit like my mom in that she likes to push her beliefs and opinions on people. While my mom would say my weight is fine – but not my hair –”
“I love this color of red,” Roger said, as he twisted a strand around his index finger. “I always did have a thing for redheads.”
“Thank you. My mom says I should be blonde, and that will always be her thing, but Plenty is fixated on losing weight, so she suggests the latest trendy diet to anyone who isn’t a size two or four.”
“That sounds small,” Roger said.
“I think so,” I agreed. “I mean, if you’re naturally tiny, then fine, but I always felt like I was shaped like a woman and I like that.”
“I like that, too,” he murmured into my ear. I felt a shiver go up my spine.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I smiled at him.
“And I’d be glad to hear you won’t be taking that garcinia stuff.”
“Trust me, I have no plans to do that.”
Plenty of Trouble Page 7