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Shetsk’d and rolled her eyes before looking back at her menu. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that,” I retorted. “I’ve only just figured it out myself.”
“I swear, you millennials act like we’re the ones without a clue.” She set her menu down and gave me a piercing look. “Jonathan, I have ridden many hours this day in your convertible, sans air-conditioning. My manicure has been ravaged so badly poor Corrine will disown me as a client, and I have knots in my shoulders that my massage therapist may never fully excise. Do not even get me started on the fate of my Aquarella Tieks.” She stuck out one dusty, blue-soled shoe and sighed. “Do you think I did that because you hadaffectionfor your Honeycutt beau? Because you and he have shared…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Carnal relations,however satisfying?”
“Oh, god,” I gagged. “Please, never say those words again.”
“No,” she continued, ignoring my interruption. “No, Jonathan, I did not. I did it because your happiness is my priority. And when you spoke to me about Flynn Honeycutt a week ago, I saw something on your face that I haven’t seen there in a long time: true passion. The same passion that drove you to rescue frogs as a tiny child. The same passion that made you want to leave Honeybridge for college. I’d hoped you’d have that same passion for your work at Fortress, but…” She shook her head. “No.”
“Mother.” I shook my head, amused. “I appreciate the support, but you’re wrong. I have been plenty passionate about my career.”
“You were dedicated,” she corrected. Her eyes perused the menu, though we both knew she’d order a salad. “The work was a means to an end, and that end wassuccess. And there were certainly parts of it you enjoyed, I know. Perhaps, first and foremost, the opportunity to stay in New York.” She shot me a wry look. “But the business itself? The lifestyle? No, dear. They never put that light in your eyes.” Casually, she pointed to an item on the menu and pursed her lips. “Do you suppose they use imported mozzarella for these ‘mozzarella sticks’?”
“Highly unlikely,” I said, staring at her wonderingly.
“No, I suppose not. Well.” She set her menu down again and folded her hands atop it. “I must say that I am very relieved that you’ve found your passion with your young man. It’s possible to have a perfectly lovely life without it, of course. But one always wants the best for one’s children, doesn’t one?” Her voice sounded almost wistful, and it made me remember the story Marta had told me. I wondered if my mother had regrets.
Her prim and proper tone was back in place when she added, “Speaking of which, I would like grandchildren eventually. Ideally several. Honeycutts tend toward those monstrously large, boisterous clans, and I find I’m… not averse to that.” She lifted her chin. “Though I imagine that with my influence, my grandchildren will be considerably more civilized. And, of course, yourinamoratowill want to name them after painters, but perhaps he’d be open to naming them after some good, solid English landscape artists—Gainsborough, let’s say, or Constable—rather than those modernists.”
She continued speaking, but my brain tuned out the rest as I focused on the heart of what she was saying.
Children.Grandchildren.
Building a life and a family with Flynn.
A family that was Wellbridge and Honeycutt together. Maybe the best parts of both.
The very idea lit me up from the inside out in a way that left not a single doubt about what I wanted or what I’d do to have it.
“Jonathan, do stop gawping, dear. You look rather like a bearded hippopotamus. Ah! The drinks. Finally. Thank you, dear.”
She took her wineglass from the server and knocked back a healthy swig before making a sound of contentment and ordering her salad.
I followed her lead and took a deep gulp of my beer. I knew what I needed to do, but that didn’t make it any less scary. Especially the part where I’d have to convince Flynn that he wanted it, too.
Before I could think too much about it, Alice came racing into the hotel bar, curls bobbing and bright red dress perfectly pressed, waving a stack of papers. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Sorry,” I said, feeling guilty for forgetting she was arriving tonight. “My phone ran out of battery a few hours ago from overuse.”
My mother sniffed. “Really, Jonathan. You should be more responsible.”
“No worries,” Alice assured me with a wink. “No mystery too great or small for your intrepid assistant. I have the draft of the business plan here, as well as your employment contract. I also ‘backed up your files’—ahem—to a portable hard drive.” She pulled a small black device from her handbag and placed it and the stack of papers on the table with a triumphant wink. “And I’ve scheduled seven more meetings here at the event with existing clients and prospects, plus made sure to move the ones already scheduled for tomorrow to the following day.”
I moved over in the booth and gestured for her to join us. “You amaze me. Alice, this is my mother, Patricia Wellbridge. Mother, this is Alice, my—” I hesitated as my mouth was about to form the wordassistantand smiled. “My right hand.”
Alice smirked. “And don’t you forget it.”
Mother’s eyes roamed from Alice’s face all the way down to her red shoes. She nodded approvingly. “Nice to meet you, dear. I assume you’re here to help Jonathan at the expo this week?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll finally get to meet many of our clients in person instead of on a computer screen. I’m excited to be here.”
I felt a familiar nervous swirling in my stomach. It had been happening on and off all afternoon. “They won’t be our clients for much longer. Not after this week. Are you sure you want to make such a big move, sight unseen? Honeybridge is very small. Not much of a nightlife, especially during the winter.”
Her eyes sparkled. “No, but they have a very active knitting group, a yarn shop, and a salon that does great hair. That’s all I need.”
“You’ve been googling,” I said with a laugh.
“Research is part of my job description, boss.”
