Chapter 25 #2
“Hello, sweetie,” Bianca Russell said, a smile on her red-lined lips.
She hadn’t taken off her long cashmere coat, and there were still snowflakes on the shoulders as if she had just come in.
It was a telltale sign that she wasn’t staying long, but Anne didn’t even care.
Regardless of how much time her mother would spend there, she came.
Anne blinked, and it took another moment before she replied. “Hi.”
“What’s wrong?” Bianca said, releasing her. “Is it the eyebrows? I just had them reshaped.”
“No. They look perfect,” Anne replied. “I just can’t believe you made it.”
Her mother frowned. “You invited me.”
“I know. You’re right.” Anne nodded. She didn’t want to mention that she’d invited her mom to a lot of things through the years—from high school science fairs to a simple coffee date—but it was always questionable as to whether she would be able to fit it into her schedule.
Instead, she motioned around the room. “So, what do you think?”
Bianca took it in with a careful eye. “It’s very nice.”
Not exactly the ringing endorsement Anne had been hoping for, but she’d take it.
“It is,” Anne agreed. “And as of two days ago, it’s fifty percent mine.”
Bianca turned back to face her, those newly shaped eyebrows bobbing up ever so slightly. “Really?”
Here we go, Anne thought.
“Yes, really. I quit Kellynch, last week. I’m now co-owner of Eufloria.”
“Is that so.” Bianca looked around the room again, her gaze more astute this time. “Well, if you—”
“I’m not looking for your opinion, Mom,” Anne continued. “But I wanted you to know.”
A moment passed before her mother nodded. “All right. Fine. I just didn’t realize this was something you were looking to do.”
“Neither did I,” Anne said. “But I’ve spent the past month helping Sophie open this place, and it’s been more fulfilling than anything else I’ve ever done.
I’ve loved it. And I know you want me to go back to finance, to get some high-paying job that will look good on a résumé, but that was never me, Mom. It never will be.”
A few people walked by, laughing and crowding the small space they had carved out in the center of the room, but neither Anne nor Bianca moved.
“I never wanted you to work in finance,” her mother said, looking slightly offended.
Anne’s eyebrows knitted together. “But the MBA—”
“You’re brilliant, Anne,” Bianca continued. “But you didn’t know what to do with it. And I didn’t know how to help. I wasn’t here where I should have been; I didn’t know how to be a mom like you needed.” She sighed. “And let’s face it, I’m terrible at math.”
Anne couldn’t help but smile.
“I gave you the advice I was capable of giving: Go to school and be selfish.” She paused. “Was it bad advice?”
“No,” Anne admitted, looking around the shop again. “I probably should have started following it earlier.”
Bianca smiled.
“There’s something else,” Anne said, pausing to let out a shaky breath. “My business partner is Freddie Wentworth’s sister.”
She tried to temper the flush in her cheeks, the nervous way she tapped her foot and darted her eyes around the room, waiting for her mother’s response.
Bianca watched her, gauging every movement, then her lips turned up in a smile. “You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?”
Anne sighed. “Mom—”
“Is he here?”
“Mom—”
“I just want to say hi.”
“He’s not here, Mom.” A sharp ache hit her chest with the words.
“Well, that’s too bad,” Bianca said, looking around the room again with a new glint in her eye. “Because this is definitely worth showing off.”
A bit of the tension that had been building in Anne’s shoulders released. “Thanks.”
Another moment passed, and then her mother’s astute eye found her again. “I’m proud of you, Anne.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course I am.” Then Bianca lowered her voice just enough so no one around them could hear. “Fifty-fifty?”
Anne smiled. “Yes.”
Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “With equity?”
“Of course.”
Her mother nodded sagely. “Of course.”
Anne could feel tears welling in her eyes and she tried to blink them away. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”
Bianca must have seen them, too, because she stepped forward and gave her daughter a hug, a brief motion before she righted her Chanel coat. “Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup.”
Anne nodded, finally letting herself laugh.
“All right, I have to leave. I’m going to that cocktail party down at the Beekman and promised I’d be there by nine.
I’ll see you Saturday at Le Bernardin, right?
” She leaned in and gave Anne a kiss on the cheek.
“Those earrings look wonderful with that dress, by the way. You should wear more green.”
Then she turned and started for the door.
As a woman on the verge of thirty, Anne may not have needed her mother’s approval, but it felt good to finally have it.
She only had a moment to truly appreciate it, though, before she was pulled back into the celebration, a continuous cycle of conversations and congratulations, so overwhelming that she almost forgot to look to the door for Freddie again.
Almost.