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“Oh please, Alba. Don’t be so dramatic. Everyone has sex.” Alba cringed at her mother’s words. “Sex, sex, sex,” Marcy chanted.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Alba frowned, shaking her head back and forth.
“You young people can be so ridiculous, acting like us older people have never had sex,” Marcy defended with her hands on her narrow hips. “How do you think you came into this world? A stork?”
“Ugh,” Alba groaned, “if you keep this up, I’m leaving.”
“Fine, I’ll shut my mouth,” Marcy rearranged some necklaces, “but only because I need your help today.”
“Way to make me feel used, mom,” Alba laughed, the beads swishing closed as she returned to the back.
“Say hello to that handsome man of yours for me,” Marcy squeezed my arm lightly as she breezed around me. “Oh, and sweetheart, you look nice and all, but there’s no need to be so dressed up. You’re making the owner look bad,” she chuckled.
I glanced down at my slacks and dress shirt. “What would you prefer me to wear?” I asked with a smile, amused at my boss.
“Jeans, shorts, whatever you want, really. I mean, look at me,” she pointed to her own long skirt and breezy shirt. “Some people might say it’s unprofessional but it’s my business and I’ll run it how I want to,” she said firmly. “Besides, my fashion sense doesn’t seem to keep the buyers away,” she chortled.
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The rest of the day went by quickly and Marcy closed the store at five.
“I hope your first day wasn’t too bad,” she smiled as she flipped the sign from Open to Closed and lowered the blinds over the glass door.
“It was great,” I answered honestly.
“So, you’re not sick of us yet?” Marcy asked, pointing to herself and Alba.
“Of course not,” I laughed. “You guys are great.”
“Phew,” Marcy pretended to wipe sweat from her brow. “I was worried we’d be too much for you to handle and you’d quit.”
“Not at all,” I replied, straightening the displays in the glass case.
“If you don’t have to get back to that love muffin of yours, would you like to have dinner with us?” Marcy asked.
I giggled at her term for Trace. “I don’t have plans, but I don’t want to intrude,” I bit my lip nervously. “I would hate to feel like I’m imposing.”
“Nonsense,” Marcy scoffed. “I’m inviting you, how could you be imposing?”
“If you’re sure,” I agreed reluctantly, looking between the mother and daughter.
“It’ll be fun,” Alba smiled genuinely.
“Alright, I’ll go,” I finally agreed.
Between the three of us, we finished cleaning and straightening the store in no time. I grabbed my purse and followed them outside.
“We had planned to go to Olive Garden, is that fine with you? If not we can go somewhere else,” Marcy informed me, her rainbow colored hair blowing in the wind.
“That’ll be great,” I smiled.
“Excellent,” she clapped her hands together and headed towards her car, a bright yellow Fiat.
I got in my car and texted Trace to let him know what I was doing so he wouldn’t worry.
I met Alba and Marcy at the restaurant that looked like it belonged in the Tuscan countryside with its stone walls and terracotta roof tiles.
We had to wait fifteen minutes before being seated but spent the time chatting casually. Somehow, much to my dismay, Marcy always managed to bring the conversation back to Trace. I was beginning to think she was the grown up, hippie version, of Avery.
