“Oh my gosh, you look so different,” she said, following me to the airport car that waited for us.
I looked down. “I do?”
“Well, yeah, honey,” she said in disbelief. “You’re filling out.”
“What?” I shrieked.
But Mom was already past that, lifting one of my dark curls from my shoulder. “And your hair is longer. That is such a good style on you. I hated the long bangs.”
“Thanks.” I’d forgotten that seeing my mother was like getting hit by a train transporting backhanded compliments. “Look, the helicopter is waiting, is this all your stuff?”
“I’m only staying the week,” she reminded me. Then, as though the word had just penetrated her brain, she asked, “Helicopter?”
“Yeah, Sagaponack is a long way from the city. It’s just faster.” The nonchalant way it rolled off my tongue made me happy. When Neil and I had first gotten together, I’d been super weird about his money compared to my roots. Now, I was like, “let’s get in my helicopter and fly around.” Like it was nothing. I hoped Neil had noticed at some point; my discomfort had made him uncomfortable, as well.
I don’t think Mom’s mouth closed the entire ride. At first, it was from shock. Then, as we approached Long Island, she boggled at the houses below us. “Oh my god,” she exclaimed. “Look at that one. How does anyone even live there?”
I peeked out the window. “That’s um. That’s actually my house.”
“Sophie Anne!” Mom exclaimed.
“Are you
mad at me
? Over the house I live in?” That was not one of the reactions I had rehearsed for.
“Not mad, no!” She still sounded mad. “But you’re two people. That’s a…that’s a…”
“I guess it’s a compound,” I finished for her. “It’s forty-nine acres, and there’s more than one building.” I added, “There’s a guest house that would make a perfect mother-in-law residence.”
“Are you trying to sell me the place? Your mother-in-law is dead, and my future son-in-law isn’t too fond of me,” she huffed. “Plus, I would never leave your grandmother. Although, we could probably put up the entire family in one wing of your house. Your house has wings!”
“You should see his house in Somerset.” I grumbled.
“Are there any other surprises for me this trip?” she demanded. “Are you pregnant? Is Neil secretly gay?”
No, he’s bisexual, and his douche bag ex is writing a tell-all.
“No. Would you stop being so suspicious of everything?” I leaned back in my seat. “Put your belt back on, we’re going to land.”
Tony had brought the car down to the helipad to pick us up, and Mom raised her eyebrows.
“Did you want to pull that suitcase all the way to the house?” I asked her, and she didn’t have a retort for that.
“Ms. Scaife. Ms. Scaife,” Tony greeted us with his usual cheer. Then, he composed his expression and said to Mom, “I’m sorry for your recent troubles, ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t ma’am me.” Mom held out her hand. “I’m not fancy like these two. Rebecca is fine.”
“Sure thing, Rebecca.” Tony opened our door and we got in while he put the suitcase in the trunk.
“I hope you’re nice to all these people who wait on you,” Mom warned.
I felt a headache forming behind my eyes. “Of course we are. We’re not assholes.”
Tony pulled up in front of the main entrance, and Mom’s eyes boggled. “This place is even fancier than it looked from the air.” She took her suitcase from Tony and asked, “Do I tip you?”
“No, ma’am.” He corrected himself, “No,
Rebecca.
Your daughter and son-in-law pay me very well. I even have dental and vision in my benefits package. And I get to live near the ocean.”
I smiled to myself. He’d either somehow overheard her remark, or he was the most observant chauffeur in the world.
I’d expected Neil to be waiting for us, but when we stepped into the foyer, he was nowhere to be found. Mom walked around, staring up into the windowed octagonal cupola that rose over our heads.
“Do you want a tour of the place?” I asked, still a little tender from our tense flight.
She was my mom. She couldn’t disappoint me with her attitude any further. “I’m sorry. You just shocked me again. Of course I want to see your home.”
We left her bag behind, and I took her around the ground floor, from the kitchen—“You could run a catering business out of here!”—to the den and my office loft above it. I showed her the ground floor bedrooms and Neil’s study, the dining room, the TV room, and our bedroom.
“Neil even got my tub from the old apartment,” I gushed when I showed her the bathroom.
I was taking her down to see the hot tub and sauna, and we met Neil as he came out of the gym. He wore a sweat-soaked gray t-shirt and knee-length basketball shorts. His exhausted expression brightened when he saw us. “You’re back sooner than I expected.”
“We didn’t have to wait for baggage claim. Mom did carry-on,” I quipped as Neil took my mother’s hand and kissed the air beside her cheek.
“Rebecca, so good to see you again.” He turned back to me. “I’m sorry, darling, I need to shower and make myself presentable before lunch. Can you give me thirty minutes?”
“Go. Mom and I have catching up to do,” I assured him.
“He looks younger,” Mom said after he was gone.
“It was the beard. Thank god he shaved it. I hated it.” I rolled my eyes. “Plus, he’s on this health kick. He’s working out like crazy. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just an explanation.”
“Well, it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to get on that health kick,” Mom said sagely. “You know, when you hit thirty, this is all going to fall apart. Thirty is when I got fat. And you’re going to want to fit into your wedding dress.”
Oh. This was going
so much
better than I had expected.
* * * *
“Are you sure they don’t need any help?” she asked me for the millionth time as she nervously watched the caterers carrying their gleaming steel chafing dishes from the kitchen to the buffet set up in the dining room.
“They get paid to do this, Mom. Trust me, they know what they’re doing.” I smoothed the already taut front of my hot pink Herve Leger Sarai bandage dress.
Mom reached over to futz with my straps. “I don’t know why you need to wear something so…tight.”
I rolled my eyes and brushed her hand away. “Because it’s my fiancé’s birthday party tonight, and I want to look hot for him.”
I did look hot, too. I’d done shimmery white eyeshadow and a long swoop of liquid eyeliner like a vintage Barbie. My hair cascaded in Rita Hayworth curls over my shoulders, and my lips were so shiny with petal pink gloss Neil would ache to taste them.
I think Mom would have preferred a nun’s habit.
I wriggled my toes in my pale nude Louboutins as I checked the clock over the stove. “Okay, Mom, let’s get out of their way and let them do their thing.”
My mom looked small-town glam as always. She’d French-braided her hair and donned a black maxi-dress beneath a floaty jacket of zebra print chiffon. She’d refused to compromise her personal style on our recent trip to Macy’s.
We couldn’t go to Barney’s, because she thought it sounded too fancy.
The dining room was set up with hot hors d’oeuvres and a cocktail bar, and the living room was lit softly by the inset lights and the groups of candles I’d had Julia help me arrange earlier in the day.
“I just want things to be as casual as possible,” I said, more to myself than to my mother. Neil and I had finally settled into our life here. I vainly wanted people to see how comfortable we were in our new surroundings. My wedding nerves were also partially to blame. I was still rattled from our sudden encounter with Elizabeth, and I wanted to prove to my mom and, hell, to everyone that Neil and I setting up house together was a good thing, and it was going to work.
“Casual parties don’t require caterers, Sophie.” Mom reminded me.
I looked across the living room to the wide foyer. The coat check guy I’d hired for the night was helping a woman out of hers, and when she turned and her huge belly came into frame, I squealed, “Emma!”
I ran after her like a shot, my arms out wide for a hug. She wasn’t a big hugger. I was, so I employed a lot of these surprise hug attacks. I could never tell if she put her hands up defensively or just out of pure shocked reflex, but it always ended with a hug, so I didn’t really care how it started.
“Oh my god, my ankles are so swollen,” she complained over my shoulder. As her pregnancy advanced, her list of discussable subjects had narrowed to whatever part of her was uncomfortable at the moment. In the past, Holli and I had made fun of women who got so caught up in their pregnancies that they couldn’t think of anything else, but I pitied Emma. I wouldn’t have wished her puffy legs on anyone.
“Sophie, is this her?” I heard Mom approaching. I stepped out of the way and ushered her over with one hand as Michael stepped over to join us. I gave him a quick hug, too, before I introduced everyone.
“Mom, this is Emma. Emma, this is Mom.” This was the moment. The woman who once owned a “People Eating Tasty Animals” t-shirt was going to meet the living embodiment of the stereotypical outspoken big city vegan she ranted about at holiday dinners. “And this is her husband, Michael.”
“Oh, look at you!” Mom gushed, putting her arms out. The gold bangles on her wrists clinked as she made a gesture to approximate Emma’s size. “You’re as big as a house! Well, not this house. That’s got to be a relief, right?”
“Um. Thank you?” Emma threw a puzzled look to me. “Where’s Dad?”
“I think he’s hanging out in the bar with Rudy.” I motioned in that general direction. “Where’s your mom? I thought she said she was coming.”
Not that I would be absolutely devastated if she missed it.
Emma knew exactly what I was thinking, because she had the same wry twist to her mouth that her father always got when he could sense my seething, illogical jealousy. “She’s driving in separately, so she can leave early.”
“Oh. That’s…a shame.” I smiled, unapologetic in my churlishness, and Emma laughed.
“You’re awful. I’m going to go find Dad and put my feet up in a dark corner somewhere. Nudge me if I’m snoring,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“And come rescue me if she’s unconscious. I don’t want Mr. Elwood to strike when I’m vulnerable,” Michael mock pleaded as he followed Emma away.
“They seem nice,” Mom said once they’d left. “So, I’ll be their grandmother, then?”
“Stop,” I warned her.
“All right, all right.” She motioned with her long acrylic nails. “I’m going to go get a drink.”
She left, and I chewed my thumbnail as I surveyed the room. I was fooling myself, thinking I cared about anyone’s opinion but my mom’s. There was this gnawing need for her approval. Maybe if everything went perfectly, we would look like a real couple to her. Or maybe the S.S. Be Okay With It had already hit an iceberg.
“Sophie,” Neil called across the room. He and Rudy emerged from the hallway. Rudy had a highball glass with something dark in it, but Neil had a bottled water. A shiver ran up my spine at the sight of that, for two reasons. One, he didn’t get drunk before we engaged in heavy Dominance/submission scenes. Second, it was a party, and he wasn’t drinking. At least, not yet. That kind of progress thrilled me. Neil hadn’t exactly been open with me about his therapy was going, and though I’d desperately wanted to ask, it wasn’t my business. The fact that he didn’t already have drink in his hand gave me hope.
Neil came to me and took my hands, holding them slightly out to my sides. “You look better than any birthday cake I’ve ever eaten.”
I snorted. “Very good innuendo, Elwood. But I know you love cake.”
“On the contrary.” He brought our hands up between us as he stepped close and leaned down to my ear. “I enjoy eating you more.”
He slipped his arm around my waist and led me toward Rudy. Every time I saw that man, it was like I was the defendant in a very smug lawsuit. The weird thing was, I liked Rudy. He was one of the most talented costume designers in New York, and he’d hung up the tape measure to work at
Porteras
. Which meant he loved fashion as much as I did. Plus, he was Neil’s best friend. I couldn’t not like him.
“You look barely legal tonight,” Rudy said by way of greeting.
I pursed my lips, nodded then said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
My mom returned from the dining room, cosmo in hand. At the sight of her, Rudy pushed his glasses down his nose. “Oh, that’s sad. I hate to see a bridge and tunnel MILF get lost on her way back to Ronkonkoma.”
“That’s my mother-in-law-to-be,” Neil reminded him quietly as she made her way toward us. “She’s from the Midwest. Be nice to her.”
“Be nice to her? I’ll send her a Neiman’s gift card if she promises to never wear zebra print again.” His composed smirk was both self-congratulatory and a reminder that this was all good-natured banter. And it was. It was just good-natured banter that he actually thought. “She’s like if Kirstie Alley had played Patsy on
Ab Fab
.”