“You’re right. I miss hearing your voice, cupcake. I also miss our daily texting sessions. I feel completely disconnected from your life. I guess that’s why I’m so obsessed with catching every glimpse of what’s happening to you online. I follow you on all your social media platforms.”
She does?
“I’m so proud of you, Carina.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re a big deal now,” she says. “I mean, you always were a big deal to us, but now, the whole world knows.”
“The last month and a half has been quite a thrilling ride. I still have to pinch myself because I can’t believe all the blessings.”
“Do you still work at Happy Belly?”
“I do,” I say. “The first few weeks after the media explosion were insane. People would organize bus trips to come down just to take a peek at me. I felt like a caged animal in a zoo. The frenzy has died down a little, but I still run into people who frantically pull out their phones to snap pictures. It’s weird.”
“You deserve the attention.”
“I’m still not used to it.”
“You could’ve fooled me.”
Huh?“What do you mean?”
“You look like a natural on your popular YouTube channel,” she says. “I particularly like the gardening segments. Summerville looks beautiful.”
“It is, Mom. And speaking of which, I was working on a few recipes with herbs from my garden when you called.”
“Which ones?” The eagerness in her voice warms my heart.
“Slow-cooked short ribs with garlicky mash. I’m working on two recipes at a time. The roasted chicken with forty cloves of garlic has another thirty minutes to go.”
“Look at you,” she says. “By the way, I love your home, cupcake. It’s not as rustic as I thought it would be.”
“Jake and Hunter call their style country chic.”
“Daddy and I have to come and visit to see it in person.”
“The door is always open, Mom.” I choke back tears.
She always assumed my stay down here was temporary. With a busy and chaotic life in New York and our recent tiff, she has yet to visit me in Summerville. It’s the first time she even hints at a trip. This is progress.
“Maybe I should come down with the nonnas. We should do a generational cookout for your followers. That would be fun.”
“I love the idea. My fans would gobble it up. It’s not just talk, right?”
“Not at all,” she says. “We’ve been at odds and it’s—” Her breath hitches. “I want to be part of your life again.”
“You always were, Mom. We just needed to hash things out.”
“Thank you for saying that, cupcake.”
Hearing the hurt in her voice is unbearable.
“My baby is on top of the world,” she says, changing the subject. “An upcoming cookbook?” Mom sniffles on the other end. “And a dessert book? With a big publisher? My God, Carina—” She’s crying now.
“Mom, please stop.” I wipe away a tear.
“I’m sorry.” More sniffling. “I’m such a terrible mother.”
