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“I’ll talk to you later, Guis. Thanks for the heads up,” I told her, trying to sound sincere.
“Smooches, bitch. Love you.” Guisselle hung up, not waiting for a response.
I sighed heavily, feeling a hundred pounds heavier after the conversation.
“Everything okay, darling?” My mother breezed into the kitchen on a wave of perfume and hairspray. I noticed that she had started styling her hair differently. She no longer pulled it back away from her face but was instead curling it so that it laid above her shoulders. I wondered how much of this sudden desire to change up her look had to do with the new neighbor who had taken her out to dinner last night.
“Fine,” I answered vaguely, tucking my phone into my purse.
“I don’t want to be nosy, but I’m your mother, and I can’t help it. I heard you talk about Roger. Is that the director you worked with in the past? Roger—what’s his last name?” Mom poured herself some tea and mixed in a dollop of honey. Huh, that was new. It bothered me a little that I was watching my mother change, even if they were tiny alterations. Once you reach a certain age, you expect the consistency of your parents to be one of the few things you could count on.
“Roger Heiden,” I answered.
She nodded. “Right, Roger Heiden. I really liked him. Seemed like such a charming man.” Mom had met Roger at a party a few years ago when she and dad had come out to visit. Of course, Roger had charmed her socks off. He was good at that. And it made her feel as though someone was looking out for her eldest daughter. She had no idea how on my own I had truly been.
“That’s Roger. Mr. Charming,” I said around a mouthful of muffin.
“So ... what about Roger?” Mom prompted. I watched as she fluffed out her hair, glancing out the window to the blue house across the street. She was definitely dolled up for someone specific.
“Guisselle mentioned he was about to roll onto a new movie. Some superhero thing. I don’t have any details, and it doesn’t really matter; I’m living here now.”
Mom’s attention zeroed in on me—the man across the street completely forgotten. “Now why would that stop you from doing something you love? You’re an amazing makeup artist, Whitney Rose Galloway.” Uh oh, she had middle named me, which never failed to make me feel ten years old again.
“I’m not interested in movie sets and temperamental directors anymore. That’s a young woman’s game,” I argued. And I meant it. While I missed the job, I didn’t miss the bullshit that was intricately tied to it. I hated the industry as much as I loved the work.
“Okay, so find something else to do with your talent. Meg painted a mural when she came back for God’s sake. That’s a far cry from the painting she had been doing,” Mom pointed out.
“There’s not exactly a ton of opportunities for a makeup artist in Southport, Pennsylvania, Mom,” I stated matter of factly.
“But there is in Philadelphia. And New York City is only a train ride away. There aren’t any excuses if that’s what you still want to do.” Mom raised an eyebrow and gave me her all-knowing mother look that was hard to argue with.
“You sound like Meg,” I grumbled affectionately.
“She learned from the best.” Mom smiled.
Not wanting to talk about it anymore, I quickly changed the subject. “So how was dinner with Leonard?” It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
Mom flushed and looked away. “Oh, it was fine.”
“You were out pretty late. And on a school night. Tsk, tsk, Mom,” I teased. Even though it was beyond strange for my mother to be dating again, I was happy to see her happy.
Mom waved away my comment. “Shouldn’t you be getting to work?”
I laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. We’ll talk later. Should I bring home Mexican for dinner? Or do you have plans with Leo?”
“Stop it, Whitney. We’re just friends enjoying each other’s company. Don’t make it into something it’s not. I’m not sure I can think about anyone like that.” I didn’t like the wobble of her lower lip, so I quickly leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Okay, how about a girl’s night then? Greasy food, chick flicks, facials, the whole works,” I suggested, feeling bad for ribbing her about Leonard.
“Sure, sounds great. Love you, sweetheart, and have a good day,” Mom called out as I grabbed my keys.
I waved and was out the door.
**
I sat at my desk, fielding dozens of phone calls. It was busy in the office today. I hadn’t stopped from the moment I walked in that morning and had only been able to snag twenty minutes for lunch.
“Lena, your two o’clock is here,” I said into the phone.
