Chapter 14 Tallulah
Tallulah
It didn't work.
I frowned as I read the message from Donna, a new customer who had come in a few days ago. The store was closed, and I was responding to emails before I went home. According to Donna, the collagen peptides I had recommended for her joint pain hadn't worked.
I tapped out an answer, explaining they weren't a one-time fix and she had to take them regularly. I encouraged her to continue adding the powder to her smoothies and other beverages, and she should notice a gradual improvement.
When I finished, I jotted a few notes for the winter reset class I taught each year.
One night a week for four weeks, I educated first-timers and regulars on how to support their immune system during the winter months, manage stiffness as the weather changed, and improve their energy and mood as the days became shorter.
After closing the store, I waved to Mrs. Chen and her husband as I left. As usual, being alone with my thoughts thrust me back in time to the incident at the bakery. Since then, Shelley had stopped in twice at my center to apologize and offered to bake the wedding cake for free.
The first time, I gave her a firm No. The second time she came in, it was clear she wouldn't be satisfied until she had somehow rectified the situation.
But we were friends, and while what happened had been a horrible mistake, it was a mistake nonetheless.
I didn't want to take advantage of her guilt and offered to pay half price for the cake, which she accepted.
We were both happy. I received a discount on the cake, and she got the peace of mind she had been craving—which I hadn't been able to achieve myself.
My mind inevitably drifted to what happened between me and Jamison last Friday evening.
Well, nothing had actually happened, but I was definitely more aware of him.
My face burned with embarrassment at the thought of us almost locking lips, and we would have if our kids hadn't arrived when they did.
Manuel had told Blossom that his father had suffered the ill effects of the edibles as well.
Though he had slept through the night, when Manuel checked on him the following morning, he had been nauseous and only able to eat crackers until his appetite came back around the middle of the day.
If I had to guess, he suffered from a low tolerance to cannabis. Something we had in common.
Eventually, I put Jamison out of my mind and spent the rest of the ride home contemplating the upcoming wedding. By the time I parked in the driveway, I had a few ideas to run by Blossom.
Walking through the door, the appealing scent of simmering spaghetti sauce filled with basil and garlic greeted me.
"Mom, is that you?" Blossom called out.
"No, I'm a serial killer," I called back, heading toward the kitchen.
She was standing at the stove, a small spoon near her lips. "Not funny," she said, before tasting the sauce.
I placed my satchel on the table, which was once again strewn with magazines and sheets of paper as she planned her big day.
I sat down. "How is it?" I already knew the sauce was delicious. My daughter was a great cook. She took after me.
"Yummy." She did the happy booty dance she had been doing since she was a teen and then tossed the spoon in the sink. "Dinner is almost ready. I'll let the sauce simmer for a few more minutes."
"Thanks for cooking," I said.
She shrugged. "It's the least I could do since I'm mooching off you."
"You're my daughter. You're not mooching."
"I don't have a job. I'm not paying rent. I'm not paying any bills." She counted each item on her fingers. "Mooching."
"One more time, you are my daughter. You are always welcome here, whether or not you're working."
Leaning against the counter, she rested her hands on her hips and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks, Mom."
"That includes in the future, if your marital situation changes."
She rolled her eyes. "You couldn't help yourself, could you? When are you going to accept that just because Manuel and I are getting married quickly, it doesn't mean we don't love each other?"
"I'm aware. I'm your mother, probably the most open-minded person you know.
But I'm simply pointing out your situation could change in the future.
Your father and I were in love too. Your cousin Jay-Jay and his wife were in love.
Things change, people change, situations change, and one day you might want to walk away.
I want you to know my door is always open for you. This is a soft place for you to land."
"Thanks, but I'm confident it won't be necessary."
I didn't want to belabor the point and dampen her happiness. "I guess not, since Manuel bought you a ginormous ring," I teased.
She and Manuel had finally found a set of rings they both loved.
"It's nice, isn't it?"
Blossom shoved her hand in my face, her finger weighted down by a rock the size of Gibraltar. A gorgeous diamond was set in a platinum band, clear and princess-cut. He had more than made up for not buying her a ring in the first place.
I squinted, pretending to shield my eyes from the glare. "Where are my sunglasses?"
Blossom laughed, happier than I had ever seen her. Slowly, the smile faded from her face. "I need to talk to you about something," she said.
"Uh-oh. Sounds serious."
"It's not a big deal, but you're probably not going to like what I have to say."
"Okay," I said, definitely worried now.
"Manuel and I have a few dances planned for our day. The wedding party has agreed to do a short dance number going into the reception, so they're working with a choreographer for the routine."
I wrinkled my nose.
"Mom, I don't care if you like the idea or not. It's my wedding."
I shrugged. I had no desire to talk her out of her plans since dancing into the reception was common practice nowadays.
"Then, of course, Manuel and I have our first dance, which will be to a salsa tune. He wants to pay homage to his Hispanic side, and we'll work with a private instructor to make sure we get the moves right."
"I'm not hearing the part where I should be worried," I said.
She clasped her hands together and looked me directly in the eyes. "We want you and Mr. Harris to take a class too."
I burst out laughing. "There is no way I'm dancing into the reception, my love. There are a lot of things I would do for you, but that is not one of them."
"Believe me, I know you won't and that you hate the whole idea of a choreographed dance at a reception. But this is more about... skills."
I frowned. "I don't understand."
"Manuel is going to dance with his mother and then you. I'm going to dance with Dad and then Mr. Harris. Mr. Harris is not the best dancer, so we wanted him to take a class."
"What does that have to do with me?" I asked, completely confused.
"You can't dance, Mom."
My mouth fell open. "What are you talking about? I'm a great dancer."
She bit her bottom lip. "No, you're not. So we want you to take lessons too."
"Tell me you're kidding."
"It's only four nights, and—"
"I know how to dance!" I exclaimed.
Blossom inhaled deeply and let out her breath slowly, as if trying to contain her temper. "No, you don't. Everyone in the family calls you Rhythmless Nation."
"Excuse me? Who calls me Rhythmless Nation?"
"Everybody."
"Who is everybody, Blossom?" I demanded, my voice raised.
"Now you're mad."
"I am not mad!" I yelled. I was mad. "I simply want to know who the hell in the family has been calling me Rhythmless Nation behind my back?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Isn't that what I said?" I snapped.
"Okay, it's Jay-Jay, Uncle Desmond, Uncle Marcus, Auntie Agnes, Grandpa—"
My hand shot up. "Stop."
How humiliating. Maybe I wasn't the best dancer and didn't know the steps to every single line dance that came out every single year—there were so many of them!—but Rhythmless Nation? That was plain cruel.
Blossom sat on my lap.
I ignored her.
She looped her hands together behind my neck. "I love you, Mommy."
"Not gonna work," I said, looking past her.
"Mom."
I sighed and finally met her gaze.
"Don't be upset. Look at this as an opportunity to prove everyone wrong. The lessons start the week after next, and all you have to do is take the four classes with Mr. Harris—two the first week and two the week after. You'll be learning the waltz."
"You've already signed us up?"
Embarrassed, color filled her cheeks. "The lessons were Manuel's idea. He was paying for the classes for his dad, and then I mentioned you might kinda need classes too, so we added your name. Couples receive a discount."
"We're not a couple," I said, warmth flooding my torso at being referred to as a couple with Jamison. At having to dance with him.
"You only have to go for four nights. We don't want you guys to be embarrassed when you have to bust a move at the wedding."
"What you mean is, you don't want us to embarrass you."
"Maybe," she said in a low voice, looking sheepish. "Please, Mom. Do this for me." She batted her lashes and gave me the puppy dog eyes that used to melt me and her father when she was a kid. Unbelievably, the trick still worked.
"Fine," I muttered.
"Yay! Thank you!"
She hugged my neck and pressed her cheek against mine, and I hugged her back. The things we do for our kids.
"Now get up off me. You're heavy." I playfully shoved her, and she hopped off my lap. "I'm going to change out of these clothes."
"By the time you come back, dinner should be ready. I have garlic bread in the oven too. Oh, and I'll show you some of my ideas for the wedding. Manuel and I have been arguing about the menu."
"I have some ideas for you too." I picked up my satchel as I stood. "I thought you had already decided on the menu."
"We did, but I had a different idea that could save money. A food truck!" She made the announcement with excitement, her eyes bright.
"A food truck?"
She nodded vigorously. "It's common practice now."
"So I've heard. What's the problem? You want the truck but Manuel doesn't?"
"No, he wants a pizza truck, but I think tacos will be better."
"Quite the dilemma," I said with a laugh. "Give me a few minutes. I definitely want to hear more about this, and you need to come to a decision. You don't have a lot of time."
"I know," Blossom wailed.
"I'll be right back."
As I walked to my bedroom, I sighed, lifting my eyes heavenward.
Dance classes. With Jamison.
What could possibly happen next?