Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I answer the doorbell Saturday morning, I’m shocked to be staring at a man driving a handcart with a large paper-wrapped item on it.
He looks at the paperwork taped to the top of the item, which is as tall as him. “Delivery for Arabelle Quill.” He stutters over my first name like it has four “ls”.
“Oh.” I indicate for him to come in.
“Says here to put it on the patio.” The guy points to the paper as if that proves the truth of his statement.
“Okay then.” I lead the way across the living room and roll the door all the way open for him. Queen Brie, who’s outside, laying in the sun, beelines inside and disappears down the hall to the bedrooms.
“Did I hear the doorbell?” Mom asks, coming out from the same hall, combing her wet hair. “Oh.”
“It’s for me.” I cross my arms. “Three guesses who it’s from.”
“Everybody’s favorite gift delivery system.”
I cock my head. “Santa?”
“.”
We laugh, but the delivery guy takes us seriously. “No ma’am. This here is from the premier garden center in Southern California. Roger’s Gardens. Someone paid extra to get me to deliver it way up here.”
I arch a brow at Mom, and she rolls her eyes dramatically. “Of course he did,” she says. “Only Crispin Moore knows how to go above and beyond to give a gift.”
Naturally, I filled her in on our epic night out, and we found the tabloid photos to prove it. “Ain’t that the truth?”
The guy hands me paper and a pen. “Sign here, please.”
I scratch my name at the bottom of the paper and hand it back to him before realizing I might have seen what the heck the item is if I’d read the delivery slip.
“Have a nice day, ladies.”
I see the delivery guy out and then return to the balcony to stand next to Mom.
Whatever it is, it’s taller than the both of us.
I’m thankful for the specific instructions to deliver it to the patio, since we might not be able to move it now that it’s here.
Mom snatches the paperwork still taped to the thing and hands it to me.
“It’s a plant,” I say.
“I guessed that when the guy told us it was from a garden center,” Mom says.
“Oh, sure. I, on the other hand, did not put the clues together.”
Mom laughs and gestures. “Open it already!”
“Fine.” I step forward and grip the paper where one section is wrapped over another, and I tear.
And tear and tear until finally the paper falls to the floor around it.
A huge ceramic planter in navy, white, and yellow is filled with a tall trellis, thickly covered in a vining plant with dark green, waxy leaves, and little star-shaped white flowers.
The scent that fills the air confirms it for me.
“Oh, my goodness, he bought me a star jasmine.”
Mom cocks her head. “Is this some reference to you becoming a star?”
I frown, until the name of the plant re-registers. “Oh, no. They were growing in the grotto we stopped in, and I fell in love with the scent.” I shake my head and hold a hand out to the impossibly large plant. “So, he bought me one.”
“He is a generous man, that’s for certain.”
“It’s a bit much, actually.”
Mom arches a brow at me, hands on her hips.
I laugh. “Okay, I love it beyond reason, but I do feel bad that I’m just not that person. I’ll probably get him a tie for his birthday.”
“If you two are still dating when his birthday comes around, I’ll help you spoil him.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Inside, my stomach does a little jig at the thought of us still dating any length of time from now. Then I look at Mom, my eyes big with wonder. “Mom, I’m dating Crispin Moore!”
“And I think he’s crazy about you. Now, hurry and finish getting ready for the party. Belinda will be here soon.”
“I’m not the one with wet hair.” I wrinkle my nose at her as we split to go into our rooms to finish getting ready.
I think we’re both a little nervous about Mom attending this party.
She’s gone on a couple of grocery store runs with me, but hasn’t been around a lot of people other than that.
She’s still a bit skittish. And though her stamina has significantly improved, I can’t imagine her staying up late into the night.
Hence, Crispin’s offer for Belinda to drive us.
Even though I could have driven, he insisted that it was best for Mom if Belinda was at our beck and call the entire time.
His logic escaped me, but who am I to argue the offer of a chauffeur?
I’m sure I’m going to be tired by the time I decide to go home too, even if Belinda has dropped Mom at home hours earlier.
Mom puts my hair in hot rollers, and I snap a selfie and send it to Sally.
Me: I look more like you every day.
Sally: Ha ha. It really is uncanny how much we look alike.
Me: Only with Remi’s magic makeup.
Sally: Regardless of how much we do/don’t look alike, I’d be proud to call you sister.
Me: Same. Thanks for taking care of me like one.
Sally: [three heart emojis, sisters in bunny ears emoji, three heart emojis]
I want to copy this entire conversation and forward it to Glory, but she’s been slow to respond today when I tried to fill her in on the juicy details of last night.
She must be doing something really important because there is no way she’d miss this important gossip if she had any say in the matter.
Instead, I text Crispin.
Me: I hope you won’t be offended when the poor plant dies an ugly, drawn-out death.
Crispin: Oh, good, you got it.
Me: It’s beautiful. Thank you. And you’re crazy.
Crispin: Crazy for you.
I hold my phone to my chest and sigh.
Crispin: Now hurry up and get here, already!
Me: We’re coming. Well, soon-ish, anyway.
Crispin: Can’t wait to see you.
Me: Can’t wait to kiss you. Wait, is it okay to admit that?
Crispin: It’s good to know my lips have power over you.
Me: Don’t let it go to your head.
Crispin: Too late.
Crispin: They’re my lips.
Crispin: They’re already on my head.
Me: Now who’s the comedian?
Me: See you soon. Thanks again for the lovely plant.
I walk out onto the porch and laugh. I snap a picture of Queen Brie, curled up, asleep in the pot.
Me: Queenie says thanks, too.
Crispin: [Heart-eyed cat emoji] The way to a woman’s heart is through her cat, right?
Me: [Cat emoji, arrow emoji, heart emoji]
After Mom brushes out my hair, which looks nothing like Sally’s thick waves, but is still fun and wavy, I put on a pair of capris with lace edging and a flowy tank top, both in baby blue. I slip on white sandals and brush on lip gloss.
Mom comes into the living room, futzing with the long crocheted white vest she’s wearing over teal capri leggings and t-shirt. “I don’t know, do I look like I’m trying too hard? The leggings are too youthful, huh? I should change. Maybe just jeans.”
My mouth drops open. Mom has gone through a lot of transformations since we lost Dad. She lost so much weight that she looked like a walking skeleton. But now, after gaining some back, she looks fantastic. “Mom, do not change anything. You look amazing.”
She freezes and looks at me, disbelieving. “Really?”
I nod, scanning her from head to toe. Seriously, no one would ever know what she’s been through. She’s really made a great physical recovery, at least. Relief floods through me, bringing on a genuine, happy smile. “Truly. You really look great, Mom. Please don’t change.”
“Okay, then. If you say so. You’re the one who has to be seen with me.”
“Besides, we look good together.” I grab her arm and drag her to the full-length mirror in the hall.
Our blues are complementary. Her hair is still a bit duller than it used to be, but her natural blond highlights in her dark blonde hair would make Remi salivate with the need to replicate it.
She’s a couple inches taller than me, but we both currently have slim figures, mine a little less curvy than hers.
We bend our heads until they rest against one another. “We look great together,” Mom whispers.
I envision Dad behind us, a hand on each of our shoulders, his unruly blond hair a bit lighter than my current dye job.
Eyes so blue they seemed neon. Ruddy cheeks always puffed with a smile.
He’d probably be wearing colors and designs that clashed with his and our outfits because he had zero taste in clothing but loved to dress loud.
He’d be buzzing with excitement because he was going to a party at an actual celebrity’s house, and he’d tell us how beautiful we are. And I always believed him.
I shift my gaze to Mom, and her gaze seems to be trained on the empty spot behind us as well.
“He’ll always be with us,” I whisper.
She smiles a sad smile and nods. “Such a large personality, it continues without him.”
I choke out a laugh. “Absolutely true.”
There is a gentle knock on the door.
I meet Mom’s gaze in the mirror. “Let’s go to a party.”
She stares at me, something I can’t identify sparking in her eyes. “Let’s.”