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“So…” Mimi said, trying to be cheerful. “Tell me what’s going on with school. When do you register for community college? Do we have to put money down to hold your spot or anything?”
“There’s a new student orientation in June. It’s no big deal, Mom. Really. The whole process is pretty laid back. We have plenty of time.”
“All right.”
Claire dumped the tomatoes into a bowl. “I was thinking, since I’m going to be here I might as well get a part-time job while I’m in school.”
“Are you sure you can handle that?”
“Why not? I do lots of extras right now, like cheerleading and debate club, and I still have a straight A grade point average.”
Which is why it makes no sense that you didn’t get into Florida State. Mimi didn’t say that out loud though.
“You know, I ran into a friend of yours the other day. Actually, it’s been a few weeks now. Adam Baxter? Did you know he’s working at The Harbor House? He’s going to the community college, too.”
Claire hacked away at the lettuce. “Really?”
“He seemed a little nervous when we spoke.”
Claire’s tone got heated. “Considering Dad threatened to chop his balls off if he ever touched me, I don’t blame him for being skittish.”
“Claire! He did not…word it that way. Did he?”
Claire tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, does it? That was last year.”
Mimi stirred the meat around in the frying pan.
“How are you and Dad?” Claire asked, not making eye-contact. Was she changing the topic off Adam or truly interested in how she and Zeke were doing? Maybe it was both.
“We’re okay,” Mimi said. “As a matter of fact, we’re going to couples Bunco in a couple of weeks. There’s a famous couples theme and your dad I got Rick and Ilsa from Casablanca.”
Claire laughed. “You’re kidding! And that was random?”
“Completely,” Mimi said, grinning. It felt good to hear Claire laugh. “Your dad has it easy. He can rent a white tux and go around saying ‘Play it again, Sam,’ and he’s got it made. I on the other hand, have to transform myself into Ingrid Bergman.”
Claire scooped up the chopped up lettuce and dumped it into the bowl with the tomatoes. “I could help. Not with the outfit, but I could do your hair and makeup. If you want.”
Did she want? Mimi tried not to cry. It had been so long since she and Claire had talked it felt almost foreign. “I’d love that,” she said.
“Maybe after dinner we can watch the movie so I can get some ideas for your hair.”
“I’d love that, too.”
Mimi couldn’t help herself. The rest of the night she had a grin on her face that simply wouldn’t go away. For the first time in over a year she and Claire were, for lack of a better word, bonding. Maybe she’d looked at this college thing all wrong. If not getting accepted into FSU meant Claire was going to stick around home for a couple more years and they could become close again, the whole thing could be a blessing in disguise.
It was ridiculous to be nervous about a date with your own husband. But she was.
Mimi had to admit Claire had done a bang up job with her hair and makeup. She’d spent almost two hours sitting in a chair in the kitchen while Claire worked on her. Using a hot curling iron and a picture off the Internet, she’d reproduced a forties shoulder length hairstyle (half a can of Aqua Net helped, too). Mimi hoped the Florida humidity, already rearing its ugly head in late April, would be kind and gentle to her tonight. Pale face powder, a light dusting of eye shadow and mascara, plus softly painted red lips completed the look.
Lauren had helped as well. She’d made Mimi an almost exact copy of the iconic white jumper dress with striped undershirt Ingrid had worn in Casablanca. A white straw hat and white sandals (with hose no less!) were the final touches.
Cameron came into the kitchen to get something out of the refrigerator. He stopped and frowned. “You don’t look like you.”
“I think Mom looks very chic,” Claire said, standing back to inspect her handiwork.
“Is that code for matronly?” Mimi asked. It was hard to believe it was her own self that looked back at her in the mirror. She certainly didn’t feel matronly. She felt…glamorous.
“Nope. I’m sticking with chic.”
