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He turned around and smiled before winking at Mamá. “They say at least one room in your house will be stuffed with crafts. Maybe two. The ironing board will always be out. And measuring tapes will dangle from the ceiling like onions in a cellar.”
“Eduardo,por favor.” Somehow when my mother put her hands on her ample hips, she looked way more formidable than I’d ever hope to be, but Papá only laughed and pointed at the ironing board in the corner where my mother had stacks of material in every color and pattern imaginable. Her craft of choice was aprons. She made them and gave them as gifts. For graduations, welcome home, wedding showers. They worked for every occasion.
“I love your ironing board, Francesca. I love everything about you. Everything.” He enunciated the last word in a way that made her blush.
Those two. I never knew if they were about to start a passionate argument or on their way to passion. Either way, I wasn’t sticking around for it.
I headed for the back door. “Adios. I’m sure I will see you both very soon.”
“Why so soon?” Má asked.
“It’s only a coffee date.”
“But it could be more. Stay out late.”
“Maybe.” But really, I meant no.
I went out the kitchen door and strolled over to my place, letting out a sigh as I shut myself in, and then a squeak when I realized my friend Winnie was sitting on my couch, eating Honey Nut Cheerios straight out of the box and flipping through one of my felting magazines. The girl was worse than my brother when it came to making random appearances.
“Winnie, what are you doing?” I never should have told her where I hid my extra key. She lived three doors down in a house she inherited from her grandmother, but she hated being alone in that big house all by herself. I couldn’t say I blamed her. I had toyed with the idea of suggesting we become roommates and dividing all that space, but Winnie talked about selling it all the time, and one of these days she might actually do it. Better to let her come and go as she pleased.
“I put up those floating shelves you bought. The pencil marks you put on the wall are where they were meant to go, right?”
I turned and looked. They were absolutely perfect. Hardware intimidated me for some reason, and I would gladly exchange all the snacks in my house for a handywoman who could finish my abandoned projects. Only Winnie would listen to me complain, say nothing, and then put the shelves up for me later on a whim.
“Thank you, Winnie. They look awesome.”
“No prob. I was hungry and bored. And also curious. Word on the street is Maria set you up with a florist for tonight. You know he’s going to have soft, pillowy hands and smell like lavender.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ew.”
If she saw Isaac, she’d retract her statement and then some. But it still gave me great satisfaction to hear her assessment of him.
“Word on the street?” I laughed and sat down next to her, ruffling the back of her pink hair. Well, half pink. The blonde was making a comeback. “You mean, Maria has been bragging to everyone who will listen.”
“Yes.”
“Did she happen to show you a photo?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“No. Her phone was dead. But she did say…” Winnie put on her best Maria voice. “The man is incredibly handsome. A ten.Muy guapo.Bonita chiquitabanana. Something like that. I can’t even imagine what a ten looks like for Maria. Probably a Mexican Nicolas Cage with a luscious head of hair and a bushy mustache.”
Now there was an image I’d never get out of my head. “Winnie, you are excellent at pre-date pep talks.”
“I know, right?”
“I guess it’s time to glam up.” I didn’t need that much time to get ready. I’d already eaten an early dinner with my family, and I knew what I was going to wear—my ankle boots, stretchy jeans with the holes above the knees, my white blouse with tiny palm trees all over it, and of course, a cardigan. Maybe my yellow one. I didn’t like to be cold, even indoors after taking off my jacket. Papá was so right about me. I did sometimes wear my cardigans on top of each other. Someone might need to borrow one, plus, they made fun color combinations. But tonight, I would skip the frog pins, or any pins for that matter.
Thoughts of being too much popped into my head, of not looking the way a date would expect me to, and I had to take in a deep breath and push them back out. There was nothing wrong with being a little bit different. People shouldn’t have to outgrow their quirks and blend in unless they wanted to.
I didn’t worry about things like that very often, but thinking about Zac was one way to bring those insecurities to the forefront of my mind. I had been too much for him. I wondered what he thought of me now. Guess I’d finally get to find out.
Winnie, still thinking my date was a lavender scented, pillowy-handed florist, had no input on my outfit. She finished off my box of Cheerios while cracking jokes about the romantic night ahead of me.
“Well, you look gorgeous, doll,” she said when I declared myself ready. She dug my key out of her pocket. “I’ll go put this back, and then maybe I’ll go see what my cat is up to.”
“You know, Maria has lots of men on that list.”
“I’m sure. And yet none of them would appreciate all ofthis.” She struck a pose in her Bob-Ross-Is-My-Spirit-Animal T-shirt, neon green soccer shorts, and combat boots. “Which is why Maria lets me tell her no. Also, none of the men in her little notebook would fit my requirements.”
“Which are?”
