Chapter 9
EVERLEE – SURPRISE DATES
We’re in the car, three minutes after ten—a fact my mother keeps harping on because she is a stickler for time.
Though she seems to have missed the fact that had she not insisted on fixing my hair, tucking strands here and there so it looks perfect for the lawyer, we would have been out of the door ten minutes ago.
After the fifteenth time of telling her it’s fine and I don’t need to be set up, I decided to save my breath.
And now we’re three minutes late.
I’ll go to this event, meet the lawyer, put on a good who and then break it to her softly when it doesn’t work out. Again.
“So tell me again what we’re doing.” I peek out of the front windshield as we drive down the road. I don’t mind riding in the backseat, but I like to see where we’re going. Unless Callum’s mouth is between my legs. Then I definitely don’t care.
“Miss Mary Mae at our church is turning eighty-six, so we’re holding a little party for her.”
“A party?”
“Yes. Years ago, when she lived several towns over, she used to run a foster home. She eventually became too old to manage it, and the home was shut down. She was devastated because she loved that job with all her heart. The children were her priority, and without her, who knows what would have happened to them. We came together as a community and raised some funds so that we could open a community center in her honor. She’s given so much to this area, so we wanted to give back.
We’re going to present her with a framed picture of the new center at lunch and then dance and celebrate the afternoon away.
And then tomorrow, the church is hosting an Easter egg hunt for some children.
It’s going to be such a fantastic weekend!
” she says, clasping her hands together.
“We’ve got all these fun plans and I’ve got my babies under one roof. ”
“We’re not babies,” I tease her, then cut my eyes at Beckett. “Though some of us act like it.”
“What book were you reading last night?” Beckett asks, tilting his head to the side, face full of sass. “Must have been a good one.”
I pinch under his arm and twist, eyes hard as stone daring him to scream out.
“What book were you reading, darling? I can’t imagine there are any books that interesting in your room.
I should probably go through and donate them.
Your father has been hounding me to get rid of stuff, but it’s so hard, you know?
” She laughs. “Though when you have kids one day, maybe you will be grateful for everything I can give you.”
“Winston. What a dreamboat.” Beckett chimes with a glare. “Little lawyer babies running around.”
When I move to pinch him again, this time harder, he flinches and jerks his arm away, pressing himself against the window.
“What are you two doing back there?” She turns around, smiling. “I think you’re going to like Winston.”
I pinch my lips together, trying to smile. “He’s going to be there today?”
Winston. I cringe at the name. Nothing wrong with the name Winston per se, it just seems like the kind of name for a real strait-laced guy that uses an abacus, has a pocket protector, and still has the original Nokia brick phone.
“Yes, of course. He’s the one who oversaw the whole thing and gathered all the funds, and really made this happen. Without him, I don’t know if this would have been possible.”
I sigh and cut my eyes at Beckett, who is stifling a laugh.
With him being gay, mom never tries to set him up on dates.
Perhaps she will once I’m married off, but who knows?
Although I vaguely remember Beckett telling me of one time she tried to set him up, but it was a complete disaster and they had some enormous blow-up fight.
We pull onto the gravel driveway and follow it around the church, down a hill to a large open green space that ends at a lake. I don’t remember it being this large last time I was here.
“This looks a lot bigger with all the trees gone.” I will talk about anything to get us off Winston, even if it’s the pollination cycles of trees.
“Yes. Lots of space for parties and events. Like weddings.”
I slowly turn my head to look at Beckett, who is having silent convulsions in the seat, trying to hold his laughter in.
Mom points out of the car. “See, they have a nice large tent set up over there for lunch and dancing after the ceremony, and kayaks and canoes to go on the water. This is quite the summer hangout. Well, when there aren’t weddings, which really is all the time since it’s such a nice large space.”
“Hint received, mother,” I drone.
“What hint?” she asks, surely playing coy before she climbs out of the car and stomps over to her girlfriend with her arms open wide.
Dad turns around and looks at me, his eyes soft. “She means well,” he says, trying to defend her.
“I know. But it’s exhausting having her try to set me up all the time. We like different types of men.” She likes strait-laced lawyers and I love four tattooed sex gods who own a nightclub.
Oh God. Did I just think of love? No. No. No love. Like. I like four sex gods who own a nightclub.
Fuck!
“Well, at least meet the guy. He’s nice and really excited to see you. Your mother has been talking you up and showing him pictures for months now.”
“Are you serious?”
He pats my knee, then climbs out of the car without speaking another word.
I hurriedly turn to Beckett. “Don’t you dare leave my side today!”
“Ev. What fun would that be? I’d rather watch you squirm from afar.”
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“I like ass? What did you say?”
“You heard me! You better not. I can’t do this, Becks.” I’m almost pleading, willing to get on my hands and knees to convince him.
“Fine. I’ll be stuck to you like glue.”
My eyes narrow at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but he doesn’t say another word before he climbs out of the car. I feel like there’s a big but or something in his words, which I’ll probably regret finding out later, but for now I’ll take it at face value.
“You can do this, Everlee. One weekend. Two days,” I mumble to myself.
When I finally decide to step out of the car, I find Mom dragging a man over who’s wearing a light brown jacket with matching pants. He’s smiling that sort of awkward smile when a crazy woman is dragging you across the lawn to meet her all to uninterested daughter.
I glance at Beckett, who looks up and sees the scene unfolding, and smiles.
“Beckett,” I whisper quickly, trying to draw him over to me.
His brow furrows, like he can’t hear me and is trying to make out my words.
“Beckett,” I whisper again when I notice he’s not moving. I try not to stamp my foot like a petulant child.
He waves his hand. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be right back. I need to go check on the fire truck.”
“You—” I whisper-shout just as Mom is coming to a stop in front of me.
“Everything okay, Everlee? You look flustered.”
“Everything’s great, Mom. Beckett went to check on the fire truck.”
“Okay, then.” She nods, not listening to a single word I say. Her eyes are as huge as her smile. “This is Winston. Winston, this is my daughter, Everlee.”
“Hi,” I say awkwardly, waving my hand.
Winston isn’t ugly, but he doesn’t compare to my guys. He has boyish good looks with a head of brown hair trimmed short with brown eyes, and a few freckles on his face. The crisp line near his sideburns tells me he just got a haircut, which makes me feel guilty.
“Well, I’m going to let you two chat and get to know one another.” She wiggles her fingers in the air like she’s playing an air piano.
“I doubt there’s anything I could tell him you haven’t already,” I retort sarcastically.
“Thanks, Mrs. McKinley.”
“Oh, you stop that. You can call me Donna, or Mom,” she jokes, walking away. “Ta-ta.” She flips her hand in the air over her shoulder without a care in the world.
“Jesus. I’m sorry about her.”
He chuckles. “It’s fine. It’s sweet. She talks about you all the time.”
“I wish she would talk less,” I mumble.
“Look. It’s awkward being forced to meet me, and if you don’t want to hang out, it’s totally fine.”
“No. It’s fine. We can. I was just a little blindsided, that’s all. According to my dad, you’ve had months to prepare for this meeting. I’ve had less than twenty-four hours.”
“Eesh. My mom used to set me up on dates, too. So I get it.”
“How did you get her to stop?” I laugh.
“Oh. She passed away almost two years ago.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry.” Insert foot in mouth.
He chuckles awkwardly. “No. It’s my fault. I kind of left it open.”
“Well, I’m sorry about your mother.”
“We knew it was coming. She had cancer for years, so it was only a matter of time. It was incurable, so in some ways I’m glad she’s moved on to a better place because she was in so much pain.
But I miss her. Fortunately,” he pulls his face, “Or maybe not so fortunate, I see a lot of her in the women at church. They have sort of taken to mothering me.” He tilts his head to the side.
“With or without my knowing.” He laughs again.
“In fact, after Christmas they set me up on a date, but didn’t tell me.
Imagine my surprise when I walked into a party only to find there was no party and just this woman sitting at a table waiting for me.
” He slaps his forehead. “I had no idea it was a date, so I showed up late and the poor girl had been waiting there for over an hour.”
“Oh, damn,” I grimace.
“After that, I had a talk with the ladies and told them no more surprises. I should have been more specific,” he says, nodding at me.
“Well, at least we can talk about our mutual irritation at being set up. They will think we’re getting along splendidly, and then we can tell them distance and what not are a factor and it won’t work out.”
“Sounds good.” He looks at the lake. “So, tell me about yourself.”
Winston and I talk for close to an hour by the lake when a bell rings in the distance.
“I guess that’s our sign.” He chuckles. “I’ll come find you after. I have to introduce some special guests.”
If it were a different time and I lived here, I could see myself wanting to go out on at least one date with him. He’s good-looking and easy to talk to, but he just isn’t my guys.
Everyone filters under the tent to take their seats, with most stopping to pay their respects to an older woman in a wheelchair with a plaid blanket thrown across her lap.
She has bright white hair which has been curled up, and a dusting of light pink on her cheeks, wearing a bright green knitted top with a pearl necklace.
She is the epitome of class and sophistication, but looks like a woman you don’t want to cross.
After saying a quick hello to her, I take a seat at a round table in the middle of the room. Not too close, but not too far from the front. There are several extra tables in the back no one is sitting at, so it’d be pretty obvious and awkward if I chose one of those.
“You two seem to hit it off,” Beckett says, leaning over my shoulder from the table behind me.
“Shut your mouth, asshole. You left me,” I fire back, not turning to look at him.
His hands grip my shoulders. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you. You haven’t seemed miserable enough, so I didn’t intervene. Could it be true love?”
That gets me to turn and look at him so he can feel the lasers shooting out of my eyes. His hands are clasped together under his chin, and he’s batting his long lashes like a fairytale princess.
Without thinking, I whip my cloth napkin at him, causing a loud pop. He retreats, but not before I get a scornful glare from mommy dearest and several other curious sets of eyes. I smile meekly and turn to the front as they’re about to start.
“Mrs. Mary Mae,” Winston announces. “You’ve been such a pillar of this community for so many years and a backbone to this church. Tomorrow is your thirty-ninth birthday.” The crowd chuckles. “So we wanted to present you with a token of our appreciation for all the good you’ve done here.”
My dad carries a framed object covered in thin velvet fabric while my mom is at the front table snapping pictures with her and dad’s vintage camera like her life depends on it.
I’ve tried to get her on digital, but she likes to take her pictures to get developed.
I don’t get it because nine times out of ten, half of them don’t turn out and she doesn’t know until days later.
“Before we let you open your gift, we want to talk about what you have accomplished. Years ago, in a town just down the road, you had a home for children where you took care of and mentored over thirty young boys and girls during your time.” Winston pauses, allowing everyone to clap.
“Truly amazing work. God’s work.” A few people in the crowd shout, praise Jesus, and hold their hands in the air.
“Today, we are gifting you a plaque, which will be affixed to a brand new, fully funded community center for at-risk youth, which we have named the Mary Mae Center. Here, children will be able to get food at any time of the day. It will be a safe haven where they can get free tutoring or play sports.”
Her hands tremble, clasping over her mouth, as tears prickle her eyes.
“And we thought you would like to see a few of the lives you’ve changed over the years, and I believe a few of them have some words for you,” Winston says before walking off the makeshift stage to sit beside me.
With that, a line of men and women file out from behind the tent, each pausing to bend down and say a few words to Mary Mae.
“You did good.” I lean over and pat Winston’s hand, and then feel it.
The pull.
Something in the room changes, and when I look up, I freeze.