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“Lovely.”
She sighs. “Right, well, I have nothing all that important to discuss with you. I just had a note on my calendar to ‘Call Jonathan’ so here I am, performing my maternal duties like the good mother I am.”
I smile and shake my head.
Lucille Barclay doesn’t fit into a simple box. Outsiders looking in always assume she’s severe and cold, but in truth, my mother is whip-smart, fiercely loyal, and one of the most sarcastic, funny people I know. She taught me how to make the perfect martini at age twelve.Shaken not stirred, Jonathan. We heed Mr. Fleming’s advice in this house.
“When are you coming home next? I have someone I’d like to set you up with. She looks very fertile.”
I cough to conceal a laugh. “Aren’t three grandchildren enough for you? You’re getting greedy.”
“Yes, well, Nancy O’Neil just had her fifth and won’t shut up about it. You should hear her bragging about it at the club. She showed me a picture of one of them the other day, and I barely covered up my gasp of horror. It was like a little gremlin. I swear she could tell I was lying when I said it was cute. Anyway, since your sister seems to be tapped out at three, you’re my only hope of one-upping Nancy. I can send you this girl’s photo if you’d like. She seems nice enough. Maybe a bit dim, but as I mentioned before, the hip-to-waist ratio is there, and that’s what matters.”
“It concerns me that you might not be kidding.”
“Jonathan…of course I’m not kidding,” she deadpans.
We both laugh then, and a wave of homesickness overtakes me.
“I just want you happy and settled,” she adds after a beat of silence.
Her sincerity makes my chest ache, but, never one to dwell in actual feelings, I turn the conversation around.
“Would you settle for tired and overworked?” I quip.
“Is it so important? Everything you’re doing?”
“It feels like it.”
“Do you make room for your life? Yourreallife? The possibility of finding a partner?”
What little room I had was dedicated to the girl outside my window…Emelia—or theideaof Emelia. Pathetic, I know, and now that door has been shut and sealed.
I sigh, feeling the weight of my day settle heavy on my shoulders. It’s not yet 1:30 PM. I’ll be at the Banks and Barclay offices for at least another seven to eight hours.
“I should go.”
“Good. Avoidance is key. I’ve heard the recipe to a happy life is to work endlessly and avoid any kind of a social life at all costs. You don’t want to look back at 80 and regret not spending another Saturday tied to your desk.”
“Point taken.”
