She was one in a million. Even my dad admitted that much. I'd not heard a peep from either of them as to what happened after the funeral, but it did seem that although Mom was dating some new man, there had been no Dad-bashing since she'd been here. I was certainly not going to ask. As long as I didn't know, I could pretend all was good.
“Julian, grab up some of those cartons of Diet Coke, sweetie. I always break my nails on those darn things.” I complied with her orders.
A few years back when I'd been visiting Dad, he'd had a few too many bourbons, and he let it slip that it had been Mom's spirit, her fire and passion, that he'd fallen in love with. It made me sad at the time, because I could tell there was still love there, even all those years later and after all those years apart. Perhaps that explained a bit why the hate between them was so strong as well. Neither one had ever remarried; I'd assumed because their divorce had been so painful. Once bitten and all. Dad called her a real firecracker and then admitted it was those same qualities that had also driven them apart.
I set the cartons in the cart.
“Julian Hallowell.” Mom was nudging my arm. “You're putting them right on top of the bread.”
I looked down and pulled out the twelve-packs. I bent and slipped them onto the rack under the cart. “Sorry, Mom.”
Her hand went right to my cheek when I stood back up. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I'm fine, Mom.” I nodded at her.
She took a short breath. “What's wrong with you? Are you sure your date went okay last night?”
“It was fine.” It struck me how lucky I was that this was the mom I got. “How is it that a girl from small-town Texas is so cool with her gay son?”
She suddenly stopped perusing the Pop-Tarts and looked up at me, a little surprised. “You're my baby.” She said it as fact, with a strength behind it, despite the singsong tone of her voice. “You could've come out with three legs and a tail, and I would've loved you every bit as much as I do now. Every day I've had with you in the past and will have with you in the future is a blessing.”
“I guess that must make me the luckiest little boy in the world.” I smiled at her as I pointed to the shelf. “How about the iced blueberry ones?”
She took a deep breath and snagged two boxes off the shelf. I looked into the cart and started laughing. It was full of nothing but sugar-infused junk food. It suddenly took everything I had to not burst into tears; Danny would have a cow at the sight of it all.
“You're right, sweetie.” Mom was staring into the cart, shaking her head. “That other boy of ours will give us so much crap over all the crap. We'll be sure to stop at that farmers' market out in the lot and get some fresh veggies. I can't believe you twisted my arm into all this junk food.”
I gasped, totally in shock as she smiled up at me sweetly. She pushed the cart off and left me standing there in the aisle. I heaved a sigh and took off to catch up with her. It was bad enough she knew exactly what I'd been thinking, but the fact she was willing to sell me down the river as if she hadn't been enabling me? That shit was shady!
As he and I walked up the steps, closing in on Gabby's front door, Andy—a real estate agent through and through—commented on how well-taken-care-of the Victorian house was. I rang the bell, and Bran opened the door and smiled. While he wasn't my favorite person in the world, I had to give him snaps in the looks department. He was an extremely handsome man, very blond and very masculine. He was always immaculately dressed; I don't think I'd ever seen him looking slummy, although I couldn't imagine he lay around the house in khakis and starched shirts.
“Hello, Julian,” Brad said in his dignified Southern accent, giving the impression that he came from old Southern money. “This must be Andy!” He smiled, sticking out a hand as we passed through the doorway.
As Brad and Andy exchange pleasantries, I noticed that Mom and Danny were already reclining with cocktails in hand in two wingback chairs. I looked at the stairs rising just before me and smiled. The stairs to nowhere. They'd been blocked off when the house was turned into apartments. It always made me a little sad to look at them. I was impressed, though, because other than that, whoever owned the place hadn't otherwise disrupted the architecture, at least not on the first floor.
The entryway was open to the living area on the left, which was framed by the round wall of windows from one of the towers and had a beautiful green marble fireplace. There was a set of pocket doors on the opposite side of the entry, which opened into the other tower that they used as an office. A hall led back into a family room, bedroom, bath, and kitchen, and a second set of pocket doors off the living room opened into the huge dining room.
The dining room was Gabby's pride and joy, filled with an antique Victorian dining room table, hutch, and buffet that Gabby had inherited from her grandmother. Her mother had stored it for her while she was in college, and when she moved in with Brad, her sole mission had been to find an apartment that had a dining room large enough to fit this furniture.
Hearing a loud
bang
from somewhere in the back of the house, I craned my neck a bit to peer around Brad. I looked at Brad, who smiled weakly. I turned, feeling Andy's hand on my lower back.
“Julian,” Mom called out from her chair. “Stop gawking and introduce us.”
I introduced Andy to Mom and Danny, and Mother immediately beckoned for Andy to sit down next to her.
“I think I'm being summoned,” Andy commented.
I smiled at his nervousness and asked, “Would you like me to bring you a drink?”
“Would you mind?” Andy smiled. “Maybe a glass of wine?”
“Consider it done.” I gave him a peck on the cheek. I had to admit that my mother probably did appear slightly intimidating dressed to the nines in a black cocktail dress with a matching beaded bolero jacket. I knew she'd put Andy at instant ease, though.
“May I get either of you anything to drink?” Brad asked.
“Sure. I'll come with.” I was following Brad into the dining room and looking back as Mom began delicately grilling Andy. I noticed Danny glaring at me, and it was a bit unsettling. We stopped in front of the buffet, and I mulled over my liquid options as I wondered what the fuck Danny had to be pissy about.
“What's your poison?” Brad asked, smiling.
“I guess two glasses of that merlot should do the trick.” Brad poured the wine, and I looked back into the living room. Late-afternoon sun poured through the oversize windows, and a soft breeze lightly rippled the sheers that diffused the sunlight into a soft, warm haze.
“Shit!” The expletive came from the kitchen, closely followed by the loud crash of a pan.
I cringed a bit, looking at the closed door to the kitchen. “Maybe I should go in and see if she needs any help?” I took the two glasses of wine Brad handed me.
“No, please!” Brad shot me a deadly serious expression. “She said she would severely maim me if I allowed anyone to set foot in there.”
We both jumped when another pan crashed, and Brad forced another smile as he turned me around, delicately pushing me back into the living room. I handed Andy the glass of wine, and the three of them burst into laughter. Brad and I took a seat next to each other on the sofa as my mother continued her story.
“Well, Julian and this boy nearly fell off the bed, and I practically threw the tray of sodas and popcorn across the room. He'd said they were going to study, but my Lord, it never entered my mind they'd be studying each other.”
My face burned bright red when I realized she'd decided to tell everyone about the time she walked in on me and another boy making out on my bed. “Mother, honestly.” I took a large gulp of wine.
“What was that boy's name, Julian? I forgot.” she asked, straining to remember.
“James,” I said. “I don't think—”
“I knew a James once.” Brad looked around the room with a goofy smile.
Mom looked at Brad, then at me. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“Really?” Mom asked with a sweet smile.
“He was gay too.” Brad took a sip of bourbon.
“How…nice,” she added with a slightly confused expression.
“I'm sure it's not the same person, though,” Brad finished.
“Probably not.” I smiled and took yet another large gulp of wine. Here we go. Bran seemed normal, hell, even charming. Then he had to go and ruin it by attempting actual conversation.
Everyone was startled a bit when Gabby appeared from the dining room wearing an apron that looked as if it had been worn during an exorcism. She still had on these enormous oven mitts, one of which was obviously scorched and appeared to still be smoldering, as I could have sworn I saw a tiny stream of smoke curling up into the air from it. Tears rolled down her face, and she burst out sobbing—silent, racking sobs that had her shoulders shuddering up and down, even though she made no actual sound. Her hair was half-up and half-dangling down to her shoulders as her curls seemed to jerk with every spasm.
Gabby took a deep breath, forcing the tears to stop. “I…b-burned the chicken…c-c-c-cordon bleu.” She took another deep breath; then her voice turned into this sort of high-pitched, mousy squeak I'd never heard come from her before. “The asparagus…is s-s-s-stuck…to the bottom…and…and…the h-h-h-hollandaise…l-looks”—she glanced down at her apron—“like c-c-c-cottage cheese.”
Brad and I got up off the sofa, and he walked over to her. As I started to do the same, she burst out sobbing again. Brad put his arms out, and she fell face-first into his chest.
“We'll be right back,” Brad called back, leading her down the hallway into the back of the house.
“Julian,” Mom said, getting out of her chair, “are there any decent restaurants that deliver?”
“I could call Flappers,” Andy said. “I eat there several nights a week. They know me. I'm sure I could convince them to work something out for us.”
“Good man. Why don't you give them a call?” Mom had slipped naturally into her role as hostess of the year. There was no stopping this train now. “Danny, you and Julian head to the kitchen and remove every trace of…well, whatever happened in there. The last thing she needs is to have to go back in there later and resuffer the humiliation. I'll go back and have a little woman-to-woman with her.”
The four of us scattered like a pack of spooked cats as we headed off to complete our assignments. When Danny and I walked into the kitchen, we each seemed stunned into complete silence. The rolled-up breasts of chicken were scattered about as if they'd come back to life and tried to attack Gabby. One was lying on the stove, two were on the floor, and two others were on the counter. One on the counter had a steak knife sticking out of it, giving a little credence to my paranormal chicken theory.
Danny and I were counting, and we both felt a bit confused until we finally found the last one on top of the refrigerator. Burned was an…understatement. One side was so hard, it could have been used as a weapon, while the other side seemed a little raw. Pans were scattered about, and we even found a piece of asparagus dangling from the light fixture.
Danny finally broke the silence. “She must have completely lost it.”
“I shouldn't have teased her about this at lunch on Monday.” I couldn't believe the carnage. There was, literally, sauce everywhere. “You want to take the stove, and I'll start on the dishes?”
He nodded, grabbed the trash can, and began collecting the chicken as I ran water and scrubbed the sink. Brad came into the kitchen, buttoning up a fresh shirt, and informed us that he and Andy were going to go pick up the food.
As Brad disappeared whence he'd come, Danny came up behind me and bent down. He reached between my legs, opening the cabinet under the sink, and retrieved several bottles of cleaner.
I was scrubbing away at a pan. “I would've moved out of the way, had you asked.”
“My way was much more fun.” He smiled, and part of me—the part I was ready to flog for thinking such hideous things—wanted to drop the pan and jump him.
I shook those thoughts out and took a different tack. “So what do you think of Andy?”
“Um, I don't know.” He pointed out a spot I'd missed on the broiling pan.
“I'm scrubbing as hard as I can—and what do you mean you don't know? You have no first impressions whatsoever?”
Danny was squirting 409 all over the top of the stove. “Well, fine. If you must know, he gives me kind of an uneasy feeling.”
“What do you mean?” I put a halt to my scrubbing. “What kind of an uneasy feeling?”
“Julie, I don't have different categories for uneasy feelings,” Danny snapped.
“Well, is it like a he's-a-stalker-freak kind of uneasy feeling, or just a he's-a-stranger-and-I-feel-uncomfortable-about-him feeling?”
Danny looked away and began to wipe down the stovetop. “He just gives me a knot in my stomach.”
“So what you're saying is that it could be irritable bowel syndrome?”
“I don't want to talk about this,” Danny snapped, scrubbing at one spot of crusted hollandaise sauce. “How about we just be quiet and clean.”
“Fine…jeez, what crawled up your butt and died?”
“You asked me a question, and I answered it! I don't think he's right for you. Can we just leave it at that?”
“Okay! I'm sorry already.”
That's awfully presumptuous of him. He doesn't even know Andy. Judgie little fucker.
As I dried the last of the dishes, Andy and Brad came in with the food, and the four of us start plating it all up.
“I'll go back and get the girls,” I said.
I took the shortcut through the family room and stopped in front of the bathroom door. I lifted my hand to knock and overheard my mom. I waited as I listened outside the door.
“Gabby, you are a fabulous, intelligent woman. So what if you can't cook? I did it for years; it's not that great. Women fought like hell to get out of the kitchen, so that you could go out and do anything and be anyone you want to be. When I was a little girl, my mother made me feel like my only option was to meet a nice man, get married, and have a family of my own. It took me several years of being someone's wife before I realized that there was more to being a woman than being a servant in my own home. It was a little thing called feminism, and I brought it home and smacked my husband right square in the face with it.”
I heard Gabby laughing, and I smiled. Knocking on the door, I said, “Ladies, your presence is requested out here. This party desperately needs a large estrogen injection.”
I listened to a little rummaging around before Mom opened the bathroom door and smiled. “Then you have come to the right place.” She turned to Gabby, who was all cleaned up and repainted for battle. Mom held out a hand and asked, “Shall we?”
Gabby walked out of the bathroom and grabbed me by the arms. “I love that woman.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said, as if I were an idiot for asking. “I've had my Lifetime television moment for the year. It's all over; nothing else to see here.”
She locked arms with me, and we followed Mom down the hall and made our way into the dining room. The boys were already sitting around the table waiting. Brad got out of his seat, walked over, and gave Gabby a soft kiss on the lips. He accompanied her to her seat at the opposite end of the table and pulled her chair out for her. I did the same for Mother, who was sitting next to Danny, and then walked around the table and sat down between Andy and Gabby.
“Just so you know.” Gabby smiled sweetly. “If what happened here this evening leaves this room, I will kill you all.”
We all laughed, and everyone cut into their food.
“So, Andy.” Danny picked up a slice of his steak. “Julian tells us you're a real estate agent.”
“Guilty.” He smiled and took a bite of his potatoes. “Why do you ask? Know someone who's looking for a house?”
“No,” Danny said, stabbing another piece of meat with his fork. “I was just wondering if, well, let's say you had a house you're trying to sell, and you know it has a leaky basement. Do you tell the people who are looking at it about the leak?”
I looked at Danny, who either refused to look at me or couldn't feel my direct gaze piercing his skull. I turned to Gabby. She looked like a shark smelling blood in the water. Even my own mother seemed very intrigued by this line of questioning.