A Very Perry Wedding by Marie Landry
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next Wednesday, I get a text from my mom inviting me for dinner. We’ve only managed to snag a few minutes here and there to talk since my impromptu visit last Friday night. I’m hoping she’ll have good news about her relationship with Emilio, which is part of the reason I accept her invitation, despite being exhausted from pulling double shifts the last three days. I’ll be taking Saturday off for the kick-off of Gwen and Evan’s pre-wedding festivities and, since that means needing to pay extra people to cover for me, I’m working as much as possible this week.
The sun is low in the sky by the time I pull into Mom’s driveway. Today is the first day of autumn, and the weather has been perfect—blue skies, mild temperatures, and a hint of a nip in the air. The autumnal decor around the café has multiplied over the last few days, and Cravings has been tagged in more social media posts this week than we have in the last month. The decorations have been as much of a hit as all of our new pumpkin-flavored offerings, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.
After snapping an especially good picture of the nearly-full café in all its decorated glory, I was tempted to send it to Jasper and wish him a happy official autumn equinox. I ultimately decided against it, thinking it might be too weird. I did post the photo on our Instagram page, though, wishing all our patrons and followers a blessed harvest season.
Mom is all smiles when she opens the door. She fusses over me as she draws me in for a tight hug, telling me how pretty I look in my red sweater and how much she loves my ‘swirly updo’—a loose bun that sits on the crown of my head. She ushers me inside, flitting around and chattering non-stop as I remove my shoes. As I’m straightening, she zooms off toward the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that she has a bottle of wine already open and waiting for us.
“You’re a ball of energy,” I say as she pours two generous glasses of white wine. I’m used to seeing her on the go—it’s pretty much her natural state of being—but I’m getting a nervous vibe from her. It makes me wonder if her date with Emilio last week didn’t go as planned and she’s trying to cover her disappointment by being extra bubbly and bright.
“I was on a cooking and cleaning spree before you came over, so I’m feeling energized.” She inclines her glass toward me before taking a sip. She makes a little humming noise and her next sip leads to a gulp. Half her wine is gone before I even taste mine. Something is definitely up.
Before I figure out a gentle way to ask what’s going on, she says, “Since you love autumn, tonight’s menu is seasonal in your honor. I’ve made a butternut squash, apple, and sweet potato soup with homemade bread, and an apple crisp for dessert.”
My mouth waters at the mere mention of dinner. I’m accustomed to being surrounded by food smells, so I didn’t even notice the scent of apples and cinnamon perfuming the air until she told me what she’d made. “Sounds perfect. I was thinking I should add a seasonal soup to our lunch selection, and that sounds like it’d be a hit.”
“I’d offer to give you the recipe, but I’m sure you’ll be able to figure out everything in it once you’ve tasted it.” Mom sends me a wink as she heads for the stove, where she stirs a giant dutch oven full of yellow-orange soup simmering on low heat.
I hate dancing around a subject, but her frenetic energy is making me twitchy and uncertain. Rather than coming out and asking directly about Emilio, I aim for casual. “Any hot dates planned for this week?”
Her hand pauses mid-stir. She’s completely still for a moment, as if someone hit a pause button. Finally, she sets the spoon on the fox spoon holder I got her last Christmas and turns to me. Relief floods through me when I see the dazzling smile on her face.
“Emilio told me he wants to be exclusive.” The words spill out of her, quick and breathy. “He said he’s tired of being in the dating game and there’s no point carrying on seeing other people when you’ve found someone you care about anyway.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said I completely agree. All the dating was fun at first—it made me feel young and beautiful, and it was exciting getting out there and meeting people. I didn’t take it seriously because I wasn’t interested in something serious. It all began to seem kind of pointless after a while, though. I enjoy my own company and even living on my own, but sometimes I’d wonder what it’d be like to share my life with someone. To go deeper than just the snippets of my life I was sharing with someone I may or may not see again.”
I lean against the kitchen island and rest my chin in my hand. “Can I be you when I grow up?”
Mom’s burst of laughter sounds both surprised and delighted. “I didn’t think you were interested in dating or even relationships.”
“I’m…not? Not really, at least right now. I just love how you own your independence and you’re so self-aware. You’re a total boss who’s been through so much, and yet you’re still open to love and big changes in your life.” At the words ‘open to love’, Mom’s eyes soften, taking on a hint of sadness. She leans on the other side of the island so we’re face to face. I don’t want this to become about me and my failed attempts at love, so I quickly add, “I hope Emilio realizes how lucky he is to have you.”
Mom’s megawatt smile returns. “I think he does. He said all the right things the other night, and I believed him. I don’t know what the future will hold for us, but I’ve promised myself to be hopeful and open.”
“Hopeful and open. I like that.” I push up on my toes and wriggle my upper body across the counter so I can kiss her cheek. “I’m happy for you, Mama.” She lightly grips my face and kisses both my cheeks before I slide back to my side of the island.
Mom sets me to work slicing and buttering bread while she dishes up the soup and pours more wine. I watch her from the corner of my eye; she’s still moving like a video that’s been set on fast-forward. When we’re settled at the kitchen table, she immediately jumps in with questions and comments that put the focus on me—asking about work, telling me she’s loving Cravings’ Instagram posts lately, inquiring about Marisol and Gwen.
The minute I finish my soup, she hops up to refill my bowl. She brings the bottle of wine with her and, when I tell her I’ll switch to water since I’m driving, she empties the bottle into her own glass. She’s finally stopped chattering incessantly, so as soon as she sits again, I seize the opportunity to question her.
“Is everything okay? You seemed almost nervous before telling me about Emilio. Were you afraid I wouldn’t be happy for you?”
Mom’s eyes widen. “No! No, that’s not it at all.”
“Okay…” I say slowly, studying her face closely. Her behavior has all kinds of strange and scary thoughts flooding my mind. “If that’s not ‘it’ then there is something, right?”
She sighs so heavily it causes her whole body to slump forward. Her hand darts out for her wine glass, then stops, settling on the table to toy with her soup spoon instead. “I always forget you know me better than anyone. I don’t know why I even bother trying to keep things from you.” At my frown, she drops her spoon and reaches across the table to cover my hand with hers. “Emilio wants me to go away with him for Thanksgiving weekend.”
“Oh. Oh!” For the second time since arriving tonight, relief washes over me. I’m going to be a basket case by the time I leave. “That’s great, isn’t it? Seems like he was serious about being in a committed relationship. What’s the problem? Too much, too fast? Are you worried it’s too soon to go away together?”
She picks up my hand and squeezes my fingers. “I’m not worried it’s too soon. I know it’s not ladylike to kiss and tell, but Emilio and I slept together on our second date. Going away with him doesn’t worry me.”
I love that Mom is worried about being ‘ladylike’ rather than the possibility of traumatizing her only child with sex talk. Maybe I should have had that third glass of wine after all and made her pay for a taxi home. “What’s the problem then?”
“I can’t go away and leave you all alone on Thanksgiving!” she says. “When I pointed that out to Emilio, he was quick to rescind the offer and suggest the three of us spend the holiday together. He and I can go away together some other time.”
“Or you could go away together for Thanksgiving like he wanted to.”
She cocks her head to the side, eyeing me closely. I can tell she wants to argue, even though she hasn’t said anything else yet. Part of me wonders if she wants me to convince her, which I’m happy to do. Mom has always put me first and now it’s time for her to focus on the happiness she so richly deserves.
“Thanksgiving has never been that big of a deal for us anyway,” I point out. After she and my dad split, it was always just the two of us, and she made elaborate meals all the time, so we didn’t need a holiday for that. When I hit my teens, we started attending a yearly Friendsgiving gathering hosted by friends of Mom’s, which is always a highly entertaining food- and-boozed-filled event. “I can still go to Sally and Tina’s for Friendsgiving. Or I could just veg for three glorious days since the café will be closed that whole weekend, and I haven’t had much proper time off since Cravings opened. Thank god Canadian Thanksgiving is in October rather than November so I have a built-in reason for a long weekend soon.”
If the way she’s gnawing on her bottom lip is any indication, she’s still uncertain. There’s a hopeful light in her eyes, though, so it’s that hope I appeal to. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Mom. While I appreciate you not wanting me to spend the holiday alone, I don’t want you to miss out on anything because of me. You know I wouldn’t say I was fine if it wasn’t true. Remember the time you dropped me off at that overnight camp you knew I was dreading? When we got there, I said I was okay, but when you pressed me on it, I admitted I didn’t want to stay. I was willing to because you’d already paid and I figured it’d be good for me to tough it out. You said it was completely up to me and I could stay or go, and then you brought me back home, no questions asked. If I’d ever had any doubts about being able to be completely open and honest with you, that cleared them.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. Her fingers have tightened on mine to the point she’s now clutching my hand.
“I’m fine with you spending Thanksgiving with Emilio,” I tell her. “You deserve to be whisked away and have a romantic weekend with your new boyfriend.” I emphasize the word boyfriend and wiggle my eyebrows, drawing a watery laugh from her. “I just have two requests.”
She releases my hand and lifts her napkin from her lap, using it to dab at her eyes. “Anything.”
“The three of us need to have dinner soon because I want to get to know Emilio better.” I pause and she nods vigorously. “And we still spend Christmas together.”
“You got it.” She pushes her chair back and gets to her feet, dropping her napkin on the table. As she comes around to my side, I hop up and step into her open arms, closing my eyes as she wraps me in an apple-and-cinnamon-scented hug. “You’re amazing. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Every day. But feel free to expand more on the ‘amazing’ part.”
The mood is lighter after that. Mom is back to her usual levels of Energizer Bunny instead of bunny hopped up on speed. As I finish my second bowl of soup, she tells me about Emilio’s cabin in Northern Ontario, which is where he plans to take her for their Thanksgiving getaway. It sounds idyllic—it’s on a small lake that’s surrounded by trees, which will be a riot of fall colors by then. He’s promised to cook all their meals, take her hiking, and go on drives in the country. By the time we gather our dishes to clear the table, I’m half tempted to ask if I can come along, although I suppose having your almost-thirty-five-year-old daughter along would put a damper on a romantic getaway.
After loading the dishwasher, I slip out of the kitchen to check my phone. Because Mom and I spend so little quality time together these days, I always make sure my phone is out of reach when we’re together so I’m not tempted to incessantly check Cravings’ social media or fill my notes with recipe ideas and marketing plans. Mom is preoccupied with dishing up apple crisp and ice cream, though, so I don’t feel guilty about opening the text that’s waiting from Gwen.
Hi lovely, hope you’re not in a food coma after dinner with your mom. Just wanted to let you know Sherée had the baby a few hours ago! Malcolm kept Evan updated with texts over the last few hours, and he just sent one that was simply a pic of him, Sherée, and their sweet baby girl with the word ‘perfection’ and a bunch of crying and heart-eye emojis. Will text when I have more details. Give my love to Mama Stewart and be sure to keep some for yourself. Xoxo
The picture Malcolm sent Evan is attached. My eyes prickle when I open it to see Malcolm and Sherée’s exhausted yet glowing faces pressed close together with a swaddled bundle held between them. The baby’s tiny pink hat is riding up enough to show a glimpse of thick black hair underneath.
I take my phone to the kitchen to show Mom the picture and tell her the news. After she gushes over the photo, I quickly type out a reply to Gwen. Congrats Aunt Gwen and Uncle Evan! Please give my love to Malcolm, Sherée, and Baby Girl Perry. Keep me posted. Love you! xoxo
As I’m going out of my texts, I hit my contacts by accident and Jasper’s name pops up as the last incoming call. Is it weird I want to text him to congratulate him? Even weirder that I kind of want to call him? Normally the thought of calling someone would make me shudder. Especially someone I literally just met last week. He did spend a night on my couch, though, and we will be seeing a lot more of each other in the next month…
“Ready for dessert?” Mom asks. “I gave you a big enough helping to put you in that food coma Gwen mentioned.”
Laughing, I tuck my phone into my pocket and follow Mom back to the kitchen table. She’s a rapt audience as I tell her about some of the plans I’ve been cooking up for the last quarter of the year at Cravings. When we finish with dessert, I rise to help her clean up, but she shoos me back to my chair, telling me to relax for a few minutes while she tidies up and puts together a few things for me to take home.
After being on my feet most of the day for the last three days straight, I don’t argue. In fact, I’m tempted to ask if I can crash upstairs in my old room. Between my over-full belly and the fatigue creeping in, I’ll be lucky if I don’t do a faceplant onto the table and fall asleep right here.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out. It’s only an email, but having my phone in my hand reminds me of my earlier desire to get in touch with Jasper. The sound of Mom’s quiet humming paired with things being moved around comes from the walk-in pantry. She’ll be a few more minutes at least. Before I can second guess myself, I hit Jasper’s number and raise the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi Jasper, it’s Willow. Gwen texted me a while ago to tell me Sherée had the baby, so I wanted to call and congratulate you.” My face is hot and prickly. The moment I opened my mouth and started speaking, I felt like a complete idiot. It gave me instant flashbacks to the time I called my eighth grade crush and he asked how I got his number and why I was calling him, and then proceeded to tell the whole class the next day. I’m still haunted by the mocking laughter of snotty thirteen-year-olds.
“It’s so nice to hear from you, Willow. What a thoughtful gesture.”
My cheeks are officially on fire, only now it’s from pleasure rather than embarrassment. Jasper’s soft, deep voice in my ear has me closing my eyes, although I’m suddenly not as tired as I was a minute ago.
“Not that I’m not grateful for the call, but I thought you were a text-only type of woman.” If I’m not mistaken, I believe there’s a hint of humor in Jasper’s voice. He sounds like he’s smiling, or at least as close to smiling as he gets.
“Such a momentous occasion in the Perry clan warranted a phone call,” I tell him. “I know how excited you were about becoming an uncle. The baby is early, isn’t she? Is everything okay?”
“Sherée’s due date was the first of October, but the baby had other ideas,” Jasper says. I can definitely hear the smile in his voice now. It makes me wish I could see his face. “She’s in perfect health, and Sherée is doing well. Malcolm called me on the way to the hospital and, when I asked him to keep me posted, he said I should meet them because they wanted me there. I stayed in the waiting room and they asked me to come into the room shortly after Elizabeth was born.”
My heart gives a little tug. After seeing the tension between Malcolm and Jasper last weekend, the fact Malcolm asked Jasper to be at the birth of his first child seems like a big deal. “How special,” I murmur. “And Elizabeth? What a beautiful name.”
There’s a beat of silence and then he says, “It was my mother’s name.”
Now my eyes are really stinging. I don’t get a chance to say anything before he speaks again.
“Her full name is Elizabeth Jasmine Perry.”
“Beautiful,” I say automatically, then the middle name sinks in. “Jasmine?”
“Sherée joked about them trying to find a feminine form of Jasper and how she heartily vetoed Malcolm’s suggestion of ‘Jasperilla’.” He laughs softly.
I can sense Mom moving around in the kitchen, but I don’t turn to look at her. I’m afraid one look at my face would raise questions and possibly even prompt teasing about heart eyes.
“I thought about you earlier,” Jasper says suddenly.
“You did?”
“It didn’t escape me that Elizabeth was born on the first day of autumn, even though she wasn’t due until the first of October. I suspect you two will be kindred spirits for that reason alone.”
There’s that tug in my heart again. “Maybe I should make her a tiny leaf crown to wear at Gwen and Evan’s wedding.”
“I think she’d like that,” he says. “Or would if she were at all aware of her surroundings, which, of course, she won’t be since she’ll barely be a month old, but the sentiment is nice.”
I can’t help but laugh under my breath at how he takes things so literally. “Are you still coming this weekend or will you be sticking close to home to be near Elizabeth?”
“I’ll be spending the weekend in Bellevue, as originally planned,” he says. “I’ll see you for the autumn fair?”
“Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”
After a slight pause, Jasper says, “As am I.” The soft rumble of his voice sends a giddy little shiver through me. “I’ll see you soon, Willow. Thank you again for calling.”
We say goodbye and I disconnect the call, slipping my phone back into my pocket as I rise from my seat. I inhale deeply and brace myself as I turn to face Mom. The smile I had while talking to Jasper is stuck on my face and my cheeks are warm, so I expect to be met with a barrage of questions. Mom is still packing things into a tote bag—there’s already a full one off to the side—and despite having her lips pressed together, I can see the grin she’s attempting to hide.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Yeah, that was Jasper, Evan’s oldest brother. I wanted to call and congratulate him on becoming an uncle.”
“That was nice of you,” she says as I join her at the kitchen island. “Your mama raised you right.” She lightly pinches my cheek, then leans in to kiss me as I laugh and bat her hand away. “Sounds like you’re going to have a lot of fun this weekend.”
I think about what Gwen and Evan have planned, and about getting to spend part of the weekend with Jasper. “I hope so.”