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Aunt Christina often tells me I’m too hard on myself when I share my concerns, but I’ve always feared she’s just cutting me too much slack. Hearing this from Jenna Bennett helps tremendously.
"You raised wonderful adults," I tell her in all honesty. I've only met Christopher, Alice, and Pippa, but I think it's an educated guess to believe the rest of them are just as great.
"Sometimes I wonder if they all grew up in the same house. My children are all so different, and also the same."
"How do you mean?” I ask.
“The oldest trio always had a deep sense of responsibility, rarely stepping out of line. The younger ones were more relaxed, also because they had more opportunities. Christopher and Max pulled so many pranks, I swear they're responsible for all my white hair. Because the older ones shouldered most of the pressure, the younger ones had more freedom. Pursuing hobbies is one example. Max was in a band in college. Christopher and Alice were so good at soccer in college that they had professional scouts asking them to join teams."
"How about the youngest ones?" I inquire, eager to know more.
"Oh, Summer is an artist through and through, and Blake and Daniel are shameless. But they're all fiercely loyal."
I'm about to point out that Christopher is the most shameless man I've met—in a way that makes me laugh, and tingle in places I don't have any business tingling— but some things mothers don't need to know. Instead, I type in Mrs. Bennett's kitchen model in the search engine.
"Jenna, I found three shops where your particular kitchen model can still be ordered. I can call them up and find out which one can deliver the models you want quicker."
"Oh, no need, child. Just tell me the name of the shops."
After I rattle off the names and phone numbers, we say good-bye. And it's only after clicking off that I realize Ms. Bennett has asked me exactly one question about her kitchen, and it was something she probably could look up herself on the Internet. Of course, it could be that she's not using the Internet much, or Christopher might have asked her to make up a bogus reason so I'd call her and she could give me a pep talk, given my mini-meltdown today. The way she gently spoke about the days when everything felt impossible, the reassurance in her voice…. The more I think about it, the more I lean toward the second option. And here goes the tingling again, only now it's taking over a more dangerous part of my body—my heart.
Glancing down at my phone, I notice an unread message from Christopher. I must have received it while I was talking with his mother.
Christopher: I have a problem.
Oh crap. I wonder what he wants to change in the setup of his apartment. I inspect Christopher's folder on my laptop. I have a list of all the items he seemed interested in beside the ones he signaled as “the ones.” In my experience, people sometimes change their mind up to one week after the shopping trip. When that happens, they often prefer an item they saw in passing to the one they decided on. In the early days, this led to a lot of back-and-forth hassle, which is why I try to jot down most of the items they seem interested in. It's also why I don't actually order the items after the first visit. I just check the estimated delivery date, and if one week later nothing changes, I place the order.
With Christopher's file in front of me, I text back.
Victoria: What is it?
A few minutes pass before he answers.
Christopher: I can't take my mind off a certain brunette I met recently.
I have to reread the message three times before the meaning of his words sinks in. When it does, a lightness settles in my chest. I type and delete a few times, wondering what on earth would be an appropriate answer. Yet the longer I stare at my phone, the more tempted I am not to reply with something appropriate. In the end, curiosity gets the better of me.
Victoria: Why not?
I'm on pins and needles the entire time I wait for him to write back. An eternity seems to pass in the thirty seconds—not that I'm counting—it takes for his reply to appear on my screen.
Christopher: Because I like everything I know about her so far.
OhGod OhGod OhGod. He's not done yet; I can see that by the tiny dots appearing on the screen, indicating he's typing. I hold my breath, drumming my fingers on my desk, staring at the screen the entire time.
Christopher: She's smart and sassy, and beautiful. I've never met anyone who's so devoted to her siblings outside of my family. And she makes great cookies.
Until now, I never understood the concept of swooning. My entire body buzzes with awareness and emotion, and I'm at a loss for what to say. This man. He's a dream and danger all rolled into one, and I have absolutely no idea what to write back. My fingers are moving on the screen of their own accord.
Victoria: Cookies are really important to you, huh?
Christopher: Oh yeah, absolutely! So now I'm trying to find out if she's met anyone recently she likes.
My grin is so wide, my face is actually hurting. I have no clue how long I've been grinning, but I haven't felt like this since I was in high school, sending clandestine notes to a crush—sneaking it into his locker or backpack. Maybe it’s because we're talking in the third person, but I type back with no restraint.
Victoria: As a matter of fact, she has. He has a dirty mind and zero filter, is a shameless flirt, and has a knack for raising her brother's self-confidence. He's a striking man. (Striking is an improvement over bizarre.)
I'm expecting him to reply with one of his legendary no-filter lines that has the effect of setting my entire body ablaze, but he surprises me.
