Brooklyn Monroe Wants It All by Karen Booth

Chapter Twenty-Three

Without fail,Brooklyn and Virginia had watched the Thanksgiving Day parade every year when they were growing up. They’d always looked forward to it, in part because it was one of the few days their mom took off from work. Once or twice, she’d actually taken them into the city to see it in person. Brooklyn had lovely memories of bundling up in layers and layers of clothes, staring up at cartoon character balloons floating overhead, all seen through the fog of her breath in the cold.

Last year, Brooklyn was still in the pits over her breakup with Alec, so she’d asked that they skip the parade. She didn’t think she could handle watching Alec’s handsome face on TV while he was wrapped up in an artfully draped cashmere scarf and wool coat, talking about marching bands. There’s no shame in a failed relationship, her mom had said. It’s better to get over it now. So, yes, they’d watched it. And Brooklyn asked for the job of cutting onions for the toasted bread stuffing, just so she could cry without being admonished for it.

And so it was on again, blaring from the TV in the corner of her mother’s great room while the three Monroe women worked on the Thanksgiving meal. The turkey was already in the oven, filling her mom’s luxe apartment with heavenly holiday smells. Her mother’s unit was on the top floor of a newly renovated building only a few blocks from Virginia. The place was impeccably put together, every throw pillow and original work of modern art carefully considered, all without the use of an interior designer, their mother was quick to point out to anyone who would listen. Brooklyn was most envious of the panoramic view of the city through the soaring windows. It was like being in an urban treehouse. If Brooklyn ever moved out of Manhattan, this would be a spectacular place to land.

“Mommy! Mommy! Al-wec’s on again!” Dallas announced from the little kingdom he’d built in front of the television, complete with coloring books and approximately seven million of those little interlocking plastic blocks it hurts like hell to step on in bare feet. His sister Paris was out with Virginia’s husband, Tom, picking up the forgotten fresh cranberries.

“So I see,” Virginia said. “Now stop jumping on the sofa or your grandmother will take you out of the will.”

“I will never take my grandchildren out of the will,” their mom said. “I’ll make you pay for it instead.”

Brooklyn, who’d been busy trimming the ends off Brussels sprouts, exchanged a knowing glance with her sister, then returned her sights to the TV. She couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she eyed Alec, even when things were once again imperfect between them. She also couldn’t keep her brain from focusing on the question of whether or not that broken condom had resulted in anything more than a minor spat and a failed proposal of marriage. Every barely perceptible twitch, zap, or rumble her body made was another reason to ask herself a barrage of questions. Couldn’t sleep—was she worried or pregnant? Unusually hungry—too busy or pregnant? Big burp—too much pizza or pregnant?

“Alec is just so handsome,” her mother said.

“Mom, you say that like it’s his only redeeming quality.” He’s also kind and caring and smart and amazing with my nephew.

“No. I say that because it’s a good way for me to casually bring him up in conversation.” Her mother plopped a stick of butter into a sauté pan and turned on one of the gas burners on her industrial cooktop. “Honestly, I can’t see him that well across the room.”

“Nice one, Mom.” Virginia laughed, busy chopping fresh thyme and rosemary. “Why don’t you just come out and ask?”

“You know I don’t like to pry.”

“Also a good one.” It was fairly obvious to Brooklyn that her mom and sister were up to something. “Ask me what?”

“What is going on with you and Alec? You’ve done nothing to disprove the notion that it’s not a real relationship.” Of course, her mom delivered all of this while looking at the melting butter in the pan, not Brooklyn. “According to Virginia, you’re spending an awful lot of time with him.”

That last bit came as a surprise. She and Virginia had an ironclad code of secrecy between them. “So you two have been talking about this?” Brooklyn asked.

“I legitimately don’t like to pry,” Virginia said. “Especially when it comes to Alec. I know it’s not simple. I figure you’ll talk to me about it when you’re ready.”

Good God, Brooklyn loved her sister. She understood. “That’s the perfect way to put it.”

“Care to elaborate?” her mom asked.

“Sure,” Brooklyn said, essentially giving up. “We’re spending a lot of time together. We’re working on it.” She then went on to briefly explain the waiting game with Alec’s job, as well as his doubts about fatherhood. “But there’s a new wrinkle.”

“Oh really?” her mom and Virginia asked in near-perfect unison.

“Yeah. There’s a chance… a tiny one…” Brooklyn made a point of whispering. “That I might be pregnant.”

“Pregnant by Alec?” her mother asked a little too loudly.

“Yes, Mom. Seriously.”

Her mother shrugged. “Don’t act so shocked. It’s not like you didn’t have a busload of men after you.”

“What happened?” Virginia asked, apparently now open to the act of prying.

Brooklyn stopped short of explaining the mechanics, and simply dubbed it a failure of birth control. “He asked me to marry him, but I didn’t want him to feel trapped in that decision just because we possibly made a baby.”

“Do you love him? Do you want to be with him?” her mom asked.

“Yes. I do.”

“Then be with him if he wants to be with you. The rest can sort itself out later.”

“Uh, Mom. It’s not that simple, is it? I mean, that approach didn’t exactly work with Dad,” Virginia said, which Brooklyn was immensely thankful for. It meant she hadn’t had to bring up the elephant in the room.

“No, it didn’t work,” their mom said, turning off the burner and putting down the wooden spoon she’d been using. “But do you know how many people get divorced? A lot. Do you know how many people walk away from their children? More than you think. None of this is simple. People are complicated, and love is messy, and frankly, it’s a miracle that any marriage survives children.”

“I can’t decide if you’re making a case for any of the things I want to do, or if you’re trying to dissuade me,” Brooklyn said.

Her mother stepped closer to Brooklyn, with a soft smile on her face. “I’m not going to push you toward any decision. I only want you to follow your heart. If you don’t, it’s the one thing you’ll always regret. I followed my heart with your father, and I followed my heart when I had two amazing girls. One part was a miserable failure. The other was the best thing I ever did.”

Virginia and Brooklyn looked at each other and it felt like one of those sisterly mind-meld moments, when words weren’t necessary. She knew what Brooklyn was thinking and vice versa. Virginia wandered over and they wrapped their mom up in a tight embrace. Brooklyn couldn’t hold back the tears. She felt so lost some days, but her mom and sister were a loving constant, always there for her. And it had always been like that, the three of them, for as long as she could remember. It wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.

“We love you, Mom,” Virginia muttered in a voice that made it obvious that she too was feeling pretty emotional.

“So much,” Brooklyn managed to say.

“I love you, too. Always have. Always will.” Their mom was the first to step out of the group hug. “We should really get back to cooking.”

“No. Hold on one minute,” Brooklyn said. “Mom, Virginia and I have something we need to talk to you about. And we weren’t really planning on bringing it up today because it’s not a done deal, but we’re sort of running out of time.”

Virginia sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “Yes. Mom. Brooklyn and I want to buy Aurora from you. We want to put it under the umbrella of Posh Post. And you can keep running it as long as you want, or you can simply take the cash and duck out. But the big thing is that we want it to stay in the family.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before?” their mom asked. “How long have you been sitting on this?”

“Well, we didn’t really know we wanted to do this until after you already had the other offer,” Brooklyn said. “Alec connected us with a woman who’s pulling in investors so we can raise the capital to put together a competing offer. But with the holiday and everything, we aren’t quite there yet with the money.”

“I never expected this.” Their mom leaned back against the countertop and crossed her arms. “How much have you raised?”

“We don’t have a hard number yet. Just a ballpark. So maybe you can tell us what you want,” Virginia said.

“Yes. That could be super helpful,” Brooklyn added. “Is there a number you want to throw at us? A number that would make you happy?”

Their mom looked back and forth between Brooklyn and Virginia. “To sell to you two? No one else would own a piece of it?”

“Right. I mean, we’re bringing in investors, but they’re technically investing in Posh Post so that we can turn that money around and buy you out.”

“Could I work at Posh Post? In the same office? On the same floor with you?”

“Yes. That’s what we were planning. We’ll have to do some reconfiguration to squeeze everyone in until we’re able to move out of the city,” Virginia said.

“There are a lot of moving parts, but yes. We will make it happen. If we can meet your price. So if you want to share it, that would be great.” Brooklyn could hardly believe she was making these concessions to her mom, but so much lately had put this all in perspective. She and Virginia should be doing everything they could to keep their mom close.

A sly smile crossed their mother’s lips, making Brooklyn’s stomach wobble. Was she about to launch a ridiculous number at them? Possibly. “Okay. One.”

Brooklyn narrowed her sights. “One million? That’s super low, Mom.”

“No. One dollar.” Their mother shrugged and turned back to the stovetop, relit the burner and stirred the butter, then swept diced celery and onions into the pan.

Brooklyn and Virginia stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. They inched closer.

“One dollar?” Virginia asked. “Is this a joke?”

“I would never joke about business, darling.” She reached for a pinch of kosher salt and sprinkled it over the sizzling veggies.

“Mom. You’ll sell it to us for one dollar? Now who’s the one who’s sitting on things?” Brooklyn asked.

“I’m not sitting on anything. I just decided. Right now.” She turned back to face Brooklyn and Virginia. “It was always my plan to hand over the reins to you two. Then you left to start Posh Post and I thought that maybe the company might fail, so I held on to Aurora as a back-up plan for you both. When it became clear that Posh Post wasn’t going anywhere, I figured I had to sell. It never occurred to me that you might want to pull it into what you were already doing. So I will give it to you for one dollar. And an office. Near you both. So I can annoy the hell out of you as much as I want.”

Brooklyn laughed, then Virginia, and finally their mom. And the giggles became infectious, growing and ebbing, then roaring back. And it was time for one more hug, this time to celebrate everything the Monroe women now had ahead.