Authors: Mae Wood
Chapter Thirty-six
Marisa woke up alone in her bed on Tuesday morning. She went for a run and then dressed for work. She and Trip had gone for pizza and beers at Flying Saucer for Monday night dinner, and then Trip dropped her back off at her front door. Marisa had invited him in. But, he had declined, begging off due to an early flight out to the dollhouse furniture factory in Michigan. He’d had to reschedule a meeting set for Monday and it couldn’t keep until later in the week.
Marisa’s next week went by slowly. She deposed a plaintiff in a race discrimination case brought against another client, conducted a few telephone conference calls, and generally pushed paper. After a long run on Saturday morning, she headed out to her parents’ house in Collierville. But, first she was headed for lunch with Erica at Mabel’s in Germantown. When she arrived, she found Erica not at the counter, but in a small booth with Miriam in tow. “Risa!”, Miriam squealed, flinging herself at Marisa and squeezing her with a tight hug.
“Hey there, too, sweetie,” said Marisa. “It is so good to see you. I didn’t know you were going to get to come have lunch with us.” Over the little girl’s head Marisa’s eyes met Erica’s with a question. Erica’s only response was to hold up her hands and shrug. Marisa gave her a quick nod in understanding that their girls’ lunch was now definitely more family-oriented.
“Yes,” replied Miriam, with a huge smile on her face. “Mommy says this is a Ladies’ Lunch and if I’m a big girl, I can get ice cream and pink polish on my toes after dinner.”
“Whoa, ice cream twice in a day. I guess you’ll have to be really good.”
“Yes, I can do it,” beamed Miriam.
“I went ahead and ordered for you. I hope that’s okay.”
“Thanks. It’s not like my order has changed in the past fifteen years.”
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Are you sick, Risa?”
“No, honey, Marisa is not sick. Why don’t you play on my iPhone while Mommy wins mother of the year.” Miriam happily accepted the iPhone and quickly became entranced.
“We’ve got like three minutes before her brain starts hearing everything we say, so speak quickly but in code, okay?”
“Sure. Trip is, well, Trip is a complete trip. He’s got some complicated stuff going on with his business that I can’t talk about, but we’re good. We’re in a good place. He makes me happy.”
“You guys still keeping it PG-13?”
“Yes, for now. I know we need to work that out and soon because you’re right. I’m going to have a nervous breakdown if we don’t.”
“You’ve got it bad, eh?”
Marisa nodded solemnly. “Yes. Really bad.”
“Great. So, he’ll be at dinner tomorrow night, then?”
“It is already nearly October already? I didn’t realize.”
“For you to lose track of your calendar like that, I’d say that you are in deep. And yes, dinner as normal at my house around six o’clock. My boys have demanded meatloaf, so be prepared for my attempt at that.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“What? Going to Folk’s Folly was okay, but my house isn’t?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Weren’t you at Folk’s Folly with him?”
“Yes, but how did you know that?”
“You’d be amazed what I can learn just by being a fly on the wall at PTO meetings. One of the other mothers in Simon’s class is a complete busybody. She even runs some gossipy Memphis blog. Kind of like Page Six but for Memphis. It’s really stupid. I don’t ever follow it. But, she was talking about her blog and mentioned that she was dying to find out who Trip Brannon’s new mystery girl is. I heard his name and perked up. I went home and googled her blog. Sure enough, there is an item about Trip Brannon making out with someone in the middle of Folk’s Folly.” Marisa’s mouth fell open and her eyes turned into saucers. “Good bit is that you were called ‘a brunette beauty.’ Hello, Marisa, you still with me?”
Marisa shook her head and blinked slowly. “Are you sh. . . kidding me?”
“I wish I were, but I’m not. You guys need to sort out your permission slip thingy ASAP.”
“Are you going on a field trip, Risa?,” asked Miriam, her eyes glued to the phone’s tiny screen. “My mommy can sign your permission slip. She signs them for me and Simon.” Marisa blushed.
“Oh sweetie,” said Erica, pulling her daughter in close for a snuggle. “I would love to sign Marisa’s permission slip more than anything, but Marisa is a grown up and has to handle that herself. Now, let’s see if we can flag down that waitress and get our lunch.”
After dinner at Café Piazza with her parents, Marisa’s dad carried her overnight bag upstairs and her mom cornered her in the kitchen. “Don’t run off. I need help with these cupcakes. We’re having a little social tomorrow at the church and I’m supposed to bring four dozen mini cupcakes. I also hope you brought something to wear other than running clothes.”
“Yes, last time I was out, Dad gave me the heads up that I was going to church next time, so I packed church clothes.”
“Good girl. Now, why don’t you start on making some frosting.”
“What kind of cupcakes are we making?”
“Strawberry and then I saw in
Southern Living
a recipe for caramel with sea salt, so I’m going to make some of those, too. If you can start the strawberry frosting, that would be great. The cream cheese and butter are on the kitchen table at room temperature.”
Marisa and her mom got to work mixing and baking. Her dad stuck his head into the kitchen. “How are my two favorite girls?”
“Busy. I’m not sure how these sea salt caramel ones are going to turn out, but the strawberry ones are already cooling and Marisa has them under control.”
“Great. I’m going to fix myself a nightcap. What can I fix my girls?”
“I’ll have a tiny glass of white wine, sweetie,” replied Marisa’s mom.
“Do we have any bourbon in the house?”
“I sure do,” said Marisa’s dad. He rooted around in the cabinet above the fridge. “Maker’s Mark good with you?”
“Sure,” said Marisa, as she slathered pink frosting on top of a petite cupcake.
“Since when do you drink bourbon? Is this the triathlon guy’s doing?”
Marisa’s mother put down her wooden spoon. “Triathlon guy? Marisa, are you dating some one?”
“Sorry about that, Champ. How do you like your bourbon?,” continued her dad.
“Neat is perfect,” said Marisa, ignoring the laser beams shooting from her mother’s eyes that were trying to peer into her soul.
Marisa’s dad quirked his head at her and smiled. “Color me impressed. He’s been has been teaching you well.”
“Excuse me, you two, but Marisa, I asked you a question. Are you seeing someone?”
Marisa turned back to the cupcakes and picked up another to frost. “Yes. I don’t know how serious it is, but I have been seeing someone. Before you get too excited let me tell you that I’ve only known him a little over a month. We’re not engaged. We’re not moving in together. After Paul, I’m taking things slowly.”
Marisa’s mother’s hands moved to her hips. “Okay, dear one. I get it. I don’t need to start knitting baby blankets. Can I at least have a name of this man?”
“His name is Trip. We met through work. He has a law degree, but mainly focuses on running his family’s business. He likes to cycle and I don’t know what else to tell you.”
“Is he nice to you?,” asked her mom.
“Yes, he is very kind to me and is treating me right. Took me to Folk’s Folly for dinner. Picked me up at my condo and dropped me back off.”
I definitely don’t need to tell them that I then got back in his car and went to his house for the night.
“Great. We’ll have Sunday dinner at one o’clock tomorrow. He’s welcome to join us at church before then, but it will be nice to have him at the table.”
“Mom, I’m not inviting Trip over for Sunday dinner. I don’t even know if he’s back in town. He’s been traveling a lot for work.”
“Sounds like he’ll need a good home-cooked meal if he’s back in town, then. Just ask him. For me, please? I think I deserve to meet the man who is making your cheeks turn pinker than those cupcakes.”
“Fine.” Marisa shot daggers at her dad.
“Here’s your bourbon, sweetie. And I have to say, I’m also interested to meet the man who is teaching you to drink.”
After Marisa and her mom finished the cupcakes and drinks, Marisa’s mom trundled off to bed and Marisa excused herself to the front porch, leaving her dad parked in front of a Mississippi State football game on the TV. She sat on the wooden swing and dialed Trip’s number.
“Trip Brannon.”
“Trip, it’s Marisa. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, in fact this is perfect timing. I just got back to the house and was thinking of calling you.”
“Long week?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to be so caught up that I haven’t been in touch more, but we had to part ways with the general manager of the dollhouse furniture division and we’ve been scrambling to get a new team in place. It’s been exhausting. I’m tired and the last thing I want to talk about is how little girls only play with virtual dollhouses on iPads anymore. Sales are just in the gutter and I’m really not sure how to turn this business around. Anyway, so here I am talking with you about my miserable week when I really want to say that I miss you. Can I lure you out for a drink?”
“That would be the easiest sale you’d ever make,” said Marisa, laughing. “I’d love to, but I’m out at my parents’ house in Collierville tonight, being the good daughter. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“I’ve got a ride with the guys tomorrow morning. It’s just thirty miles, so I should be done by lunch. Can we meet up?”
“That’s actually what I called to talk with you about. You presence has been requested at my parents’ house for lunch.”
“Oh, that’s big,” replied Trip after a pause.
“Yeah, and there is more. Erica, you know my best friend, the artist, well, she has invited you to come over for dinner at her house tomorrow. When it rains, it pours, I guess.”
“Nah, it won’t be bad. It’s just going to be like ripping off a Band-Aid. I’ll just meet everyone in one day and get their blessings.”
“So, you’re coming? It’s a big ask.”
“Well, I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Marisa shook her head and smiled into the phone. “No, once you meet my mom and Erica you will realize just how true that statement is.”
“Okay, now I need you to do me a favor. Have dinner with my parents on Tuesday.”
“Trip, we’ve talked about this.”
“And if I’m getting to meet your people, you should get to meet mine.”
“I won’t argue with you, but I’m not doing that. So, I’m going to email you my parents’ address. My mom still tries to cook a Sunday dinner after church when I’m in town, so expect a full on meal. And we’ll be in church clothes, so don’t wear jeans. She said one o’clock and she always runs a bit late, but if you have any intention of making her happy, show up a little before one. After we eat with my parents, we can head over to Erica’s. She and Josh live in Germantown , so you can just follow me over there.”
“Okay. I’ll be there. I miss you, Marisa.”
“I miss you, too. I hate to go, but I’ve got church in the morning and need to head off to bed soon.”
“Wish I were there to tuck you in.”
“You even have a single thought like that anywhere around my parents and they would absolutely have heart attacks and die. Got it?”
“Okay. Okay. I’ve been warned. I’ll behave, but once we’re back at my house, I’m not behaving a bit.”
“Duly noted. Good night, Trip.”
“Sleep well. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Sunday morning Marisa awoke with her stomach full of knots and acid.
I can’t believe he’s meeting my parents and Erica all in one day. He’s going to run for the hills.
She sat through the church service and pleasantly greeted her parents’ friends at the social where she accepted compliments on the mini cupcakes, all the while her thoughts were on how the rest of the day would play out.
A few minutes before one, she saw Trip’s car pull up in her parents’ drive and she went out to meet him. He got out of the car looking as handsome as ever in olive slacks, a blue dress shirt, and polished penny loafers. He saw her and his face lit up. “Marisa, you are beautiful,” he said and went in for a kiss.
Marisa quickly diverted his affection into an awkward hug. “And another thing,” she said into his ear during their hug. “No kissing, no touching, no hand holding. Don’t even think about touching me in front of my parents until I have a ring on.”
“Well, if that’s what it takes,” said Trip, letting her go as smile lines formed around his eyes.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” pleaded Marisa. “I really didn’t. I’m not implying,” stammered Marisa.
Please ground, swallow me up now. Come on, New Madrid Fault, where are you when a girl needs you?
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Trip. “If I ever have a daughter I’ll be the same way. Plus, I think
my
mother would stroke out if I was anything less than a perfect gentleman in front of your parents. Trust me on this, as irresistible as you are and as much as I want you, I’m just going to keep it all to myself and save it up for when we get home.”
Marisa turned bright red. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Great. Now, introduce me.”
As promised, Trip was an angel and her mother was clearly designing wedding dresses and nurseries in her head the entire meal. He complimented her cooking, eating every bit of the meatloaf and potatoes that Marisa’s mom put in front of him and going back for seconds. Trip brought a bourbon pecan pie for dessert. He looked knowingly at Marisa while she ate a thin slice, trying to avoid his gaze. Trip and her dad chatted about football before he turned the subject of conversation to Trip. “So, Marisa tells us that you don’t practice law so much as help run your family’s business. She also said that you travel quite a bit for work.”
“Yes, it keeps me busy. Just this week I was up in Michigan at our dollhouse furniture division. Didn’t get home until late last night, so I was happy to get a chance to see Marisa and meet you both today.”
“Dollhouse furniture? How did your family get into that line of business?”
“We acquired a company back in the mid-1960s and have grown it.”
“
Acquired
? I’m sorry. I’m just confused. What does your family business do?”
“Well, Brannon Company does lots of things, but mainly we buy businesses where we see a potential for growth and make them more profitable.”
“You’re a Brannon?”
“Yes, sir. I hope that’s okay. Not much I can do about it.”
“No, that’s fine,” replied her dad, giving Marisa a serious look. “I just didn’t know.”
“Yes, that’s how we met. You guys know Branco is one of my biggest clients,” jumped in Marisa, “and I met Trip through work. He actually lives in South Bluffs, too, and we hang out at the same bar.”
Well, not at the same time, but we do both go to Cal’s.
“Well, that’s so nice,” said her mother, coming to her rescue. “I think it’s just so nice that young people live downtown these days and get to be out and about so much. I’ve lived in Collierville all my life. I met Marisa’s father in high school and then I took over my family’s business, too.”
“I guess we both did,” said her dad. “Nancy runs the insurance brokerage that her dad started and, until the deal got too good to pass up, I ran the family farm. Sold it back in the 90s. Now I work some at the Co-Op, trying to help other farmers stay afloat and we’re surrounded by McMansions and fancy SUVs. I kept enough land to grow a few things. Want to see my garden?”
“Dad, I’m not sure Trip wants to see your garden.”
“I’d love to see it. I’ll admit that I know next to nothing about gardening or farming, but I love to learn.”
“Excellent. Let me give you a tour while the girls clean up,” said her dad. He pushed back from the table and walked toward the back door. Trip looked at Marisa and shrugged helplessly before following her father outside.
“Don’t mind him. I can tell Trip likes you, so I don’t think your dad can do anything to scare him off. Now, help me clean up. I know y’all are headed over to Erica’s house in an hour or so, and I’d appreciate the help before you go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Marisa in autopilot as she stared out the windows and watched her father and Trip mill around the plants. She could see they were talking, but couldn’t make out a word.
I really should learn how to lip read.
“Really, Marisa. They’ll be fine. Now, come help me.”
***
Trip followed Marisa’s black Audi from Collierville to Erica’s house in Germantown.
Okay, Trip, here comes Round Two. I really hope you survive.
Marisa parked on the curb in front of Erica’s traditional two story brick house and Trip pulled up close to her bumper. They got out of their cars and Trip called to her, “Same rules?”
Marisa laughed.
“No. You could pretty much have your way with me on the dining room table and as long as the kids weren’t in the room, Erica would cheer you on.”
“Excellent. Let’s do it.”
“I was exaggerating.”
“I know. I’m just kidding with you. Calm down. Your parents are lovely and I thought that went well,” said Trip, as they approached Erica’s front door. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper and continued to speak. “I told you. I’m on my best behavior until we get home and then all bets are off.”
Marisa gulped and pressed the doorbell. Both Simon and Miriam were at the door in a flash and were jumping up and down with excitement. Miriam screamed “Risa!” repeatedly, like she’d just met a rock star. Simon opened the glass door and they stepped in, only to be bombarded with hugs. Miriam even tackled Trip and gave him rock star treatment as well. “Risa’s friend! I love you! I love Risa!”
“I have to agree with you. Miriam, right?”
Miriam stepped back and eyed him. “Yes. You know me?”
“Not yet, but I hope we can be friends.”
“Good. I want to be friends with Risa’s friend. Do you like to play pretend?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Okay,” said Miriam, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the house. “Let’s go.”
Trip looked helplessly over his shoulder. Marisa waved them goodbye and headed to the kitchen in search of Erica. “Hey, chicka. We’re here.”
“Good. I hoped my children wouldn’t let ax murderers into the house, but if they stay out of my hair for ten minutes, then I might consider inviting ax murderers over for a playdate.”
“You are so silly. We brought wine.”
“Good. I’ve got some in the chiller already open. Help yourself. Also, it sounds like Trip might need some, too. I heard Miriam drag him away to play. How did it go with your parents?”
“Fine, I guess. He’s quite the charmer. My mom seemed ready to pick out a china pattern and my dad seemed cool with him.”
“Good. I can’t wait to meet him. Maybe we should go rescue him from Miriam?”
“Let me fix these two glasses and we’ll go be knights in shining armor,” replied Marisa, as she poured generous amounts of Pinot Gris into two stemless glasses.
They found Trip in the kids’ playroom, wearing a tiara and singing ‘Ring Around the Rosie.’ “Well, welcome to our family, Trip,” said Erica, striding across the room to give him a big hug.
“Here you go, Trooper. A well-deserved adult refreshment,” said Marisa, passing him a glass of wine so full that it threatened to spill.
“My hero,” said Trip, taking the glass from Marisa and giving her a peck on the cheek.
“Risa, your friend is nice. What is his name?”
“Why don’t you ask him that?”
“What is your name?”
“It’s Trip.”
“Trip? Like when you fall down?”
Trip nodded, the tiara dipping towards one eyebrow.
“Good. Now, Trip, you pretend to be a frog.”
“Okay,” said Trip, squatting to the ground with the tiara tilting at a precarious angle on this head. “Ribbit.”
Marisa smiled, her heart warmed, and her body became flush. Miriam ran over to Trip, slowed down to approach him closely, and then kissed him square on the lips.
“Miriam!,” shouted Erica. “We don’t kiss strangers.”
“But he isn’t a stranger, Mommy. He’s a frog prince and I’m the princess.”
“No, I think Marisa is the princess. Why don’t we all come into the living room and we can play together before dinner?”
Trip stuffed himself with meatloaf for a second time that day and doled out compliments to Erica before settling into manly talk about business and markets and funds with Josh. “You weren’t kidding about the charming bit,” muttered Erica to Marisa, as she refilled Marisa’s glass with wine. “He needs to give Josh some lessons or I’ll drop my panties for him. Either way, damn, girl. I’m jealous.”
“Shhh, Erica!”
“Really, I’ve never been for swinging, but life is short.”
Marisa placed her wine glass down on the table with slightly too much force and the men stopped talking at the sound.
“Are you girls playing nice down there or does someone need to go to time out?,” asked Josh.
“Daddy, Mommy and Risa can’t go to time out. Time out is not for grown-ups,” piped up Miriam, as Simon pushed mashed potatoes around his plate, plainly pretending his plate was some sort of construction site.
“You’re right, sweetie. But we use our gentle words and gentle hands at the table, right?”
“Yes. Gentle words, Mommy,” scolded Miriam. “Risa, when is your field trip?”
“I don’t understand what you just said. Can you ask me again?,” inquired Marisa.
“Your field trip. You can’t go unless you sign your permission slip.”
Marisa nearly fell off her chair. Erica burst out laughing. The men looked at each other confusedly.
“Sweet love, I’m not going on a field trip,” said Marisa. Tears spilled down her cheeks and Erica banged the table with both her palms.
“I like going to the zoo with my class.”
“And that is an excellent field trip,” agreed Erica trying to turn the conversation.
“Are they always like this?,” asked Trip to Josh.
“Pretty much,” said Josh, taking a large swallow of wine. “Okay, who’s up for a little hide and seek?” The children started screaming with joy. “Trip, you are welcome to join in this ritual if you want. Erica and Marisa usually slink off to the kitchen to gab for a bit. Pick your poison.”
“Can I be it first?,” asked Trip. “I’m not sure I can’t handle the Marisa-Erica show without some back up.”
“Truer words have never been said. It’s been nice to have you here to balance things out a bit.”
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time Marisa and Trip left Germantown. They cruised slowly down Poplar, catching nearly every red light. Marisa groaned each time she saw a light in the distance turn yellow.
At this rate we’ll be home by midnight and I’ve got a hearing at nine in Corinth.
Marisa pulled into her parking space and was not surprised to feel bone tired.
It’s probably just all of my anxiety about how the meet and greets would go
, she thought.
I’ll snap out of it.
She met Trip in the lobby and they rode up the elevator together, Trip’s fingers woven through hers.
“So, are you packing or are we staying?,” asked Trip when Marisa opened the door to her condo.
“Honestly?,” asked Marisa, setting her bags on the floor.
“Of course.”
“Well, honestly, I’ve got to be in eastern Mississippi by eight-thirty for a nine o’clock hearing. It’s a two hour drive, which means I’ve got to get up around 4:30, if I have any hope of getting in a run before I leave.”
“So, what you’re saying is that I can’t keep you up all night wowing you with my best game?”
“If you’re happy with me not wowing the judge in that workplace injury case where the guy lost his arm at your pecan processing facility, then wow away.”
“Someone lost an arm while shelling pecans? How did that happen?”
“You really don’t want to know. The pictures are gruesome. It’s a good thing I’m a professional or I wouldn’t be able to eat a pecan ever again.”
“And that would be a shame, as I know how much you love pecan pie. So, a drink here and then I’ll be on my way?”
“Now, I never said anything about kicking you out. Let me fix some drinks. You make yourself at home.” Marisa walked toward the kitchen and as she cracked open the bottle of Knob Creek she’d picked up with Cal’s help, she heard Trip mutter to himself, “With you, I am at home.”