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“Can you not say anything too… you know… embarrassing? And also, I’m not in a tizzy, whatever that means.” I shift back again so she’s blocking me and touch my hair again. “Do I look okay? Any potting soil on my face? Hair okay?”
“You look great, honey.” She pats my shoulder, then leans in to peck my cheek. “I won’t tell any Baby Gwen stories, I promise. I am going to meet him—just a quick introduction, to see what he’s all about—and then skedaddle and leave you to it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brock has reached the sidewalk.
I want to remind myself that her ‘quick introduction’ should not involve any singing, palm-reading, or long-winded stories about my childhood, but suddenly I don’t have time.
“Hey,” Brock says as both dogs bustle my way. “I’m just getting back from the park with these two. I figured I’d stop over and deliver this.”
He holds out a bag.
When I peek inside, I gasp. “You didn’t!”
He nods. “You mentioned you needed one.”
I pull the notched trowel out of the paper bag to show my mom. “For the floors!” I tell her happily. Then I turn to Brock. “Wow. Thank you. This is awesome. I’ve been stalling on the floors ‘cause of this.”
“I can give you a hand with the linoleum,” he offers.
I am swooning right now—right here in the driveaway, with my mother as a witness.
My heart feels sparkly, just like those emojis Vanessa sent. “Wow. Really? That would be great. You know how to put in linoleum?”
He shrugs. “I helped my buddy Leo do some work on his floors when he moved into his place. We tiled his bathroom. I watched some videos about linoleum, and it’s similar.”
He watched videos about putting in flooring… for me.
I feel so happy, I want to jump up and down. That would definitely confirm my mother’s suspicions that I’m in a tizzy, so I don’t.
Instead, I crouch to pet Mr. Brown and beam up at Brock. “That would be awesome. If you want, I can cook us up some food. The kitchen’s a wreck, but I have the ingredients for Chef’s Salad. That’s pretty simple, minimal dishes required.”
He smiles back at me. “Cool. Sounds fun.”
My mother leans over Zoey and strokes her back. “Gwen has always been the best at making salads,” she says, “ever since she was a little girl. She’d run out to the garden we had at the back of the house and come in all excited about what she picked. You should try her Rainbow Salad. Purple carrots, cherry tomato, yellow peppers… a special dressing made with maple syrup and balsamic. It’s my favorite, and I ask for it every year on my birthday.”
“Sounds really good,” Brock says.
He’s usually so suave, so good at filling silences with that public-speaking voice of his. I wait for him to say something else, anything, so I won’t have to speak up, but he hesitates.
He’s waiting to be introduced.
I am once again in charge of connecting the dots, and this time, I hope to do it without embarrassing myself.
“Mom, this is Brock Benson, my boss. Brock, meet my mother, Allegra Temple.”
My mother’s flowy tunic top trails through the air as she extends her hand. “I am so pleased to meet you after all these years, Brock. I’ve heard from Gwen all about that company of yours and how you’ve really made something of yourself. A real entrepreneur, you are! And it is great to see you here, visiting my Gwen.”
Uh oh, I think, when she pauses. Here she goes.
My mom beams at me but continues to address Brock. “She’s a special girl. I knew the minute I had her, thirty-one years ago, that she was one special little being. It was a home water birth, you know. I had her in a lovely birthing pool that we had arranged in the living room. The minute my midwife handed little Gwen to me, a dove landed on the windowsill.”
“Mom… I don’t think he needs to know about the dove.”
“A White Winged Dove!” she exclaims, still beaming. “Now, this was winter, mind you. Late February. Snow outside. That is very early for the White Winged Dove to migrate north, and yet, there it was, peering in at me through the fogged glass pane. And me, in the water, candles flickering all around, with my sweet newborn in my arms. I looked at my midwife, and I said, ‘This child will bring peace with her wherever she goes.’ I’m sure you know doves have symbolic meaning. Doves tell of peace, purity, and harmony. And ever since she was a girl, Gwen has?—”
“Mom.” I bump her with my hip.
Brock blinks a few times as though he’s bewildered.
