2. Sarah
SARAH
“Come to Grandma!” my mother said, opening her arms wide as she saw who it was on the other side of her door.
Folding Caleb and Lucy into a hug, she glanced up at me.
“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it. You’re always working.”
“I swapped shifts. I’m working tomorrow instead.
” Mondays and Wednesdays were my usual days off, but it was my grandmother’s birthday, and my parents were hosting a family party.
I loved Grammie to bits, so I was not about to miss her birthday party.
I knew my mother knew this. She knew that I knew she knew it.
It was simply a subtle jab at my having divorced Harold and getting a blue collar job to support us.
“You know, Phyllis Winkleman’s son got divorced last year,” Aunt Sadie said by way of a greeting as I took the children’s coats and hung them up.
“Did he?” I asked out of politeness.
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Go see Grampa now,” Mom said to shoo the children away. Turning to join the ambush, she asked, “Isn’t he the dentist with his own private practice?”
“No, he’s a cosmetic surgeon, but does reconstructive surgeries only.
None of that vanity stuff. And do you know what Phyllis said?
He wants a family. His wife hadn’t wanted kids, and he’d been fine with it.
But now that they’re divorced and he’s turning forty, he got to thinking that he’d like to be a dad.
So much so that he’s open to dating a woman with kids. ”
Both women turned their laser focused eyes to me.
“Well, how about that? You went to school with his little sister, Bethany. Remember?” Mom prodded.
I remembered Bethany alright. She’d made prom queen our senior year and had dated Harold before I did.
Right before I did, in fact, and now I was second guessing that teenage relationship.
Had he actually broken up with her before asking me out over spring break while the Winklemans went on a family cruise?
I had a sudden, horrible suspicion that he hadn’t, and I'd unwittingly been the other girl.
If so, neither she nor her friends had cared enough to bring it up. I really hoped I was wrong.
“Well, I know just the thing,” Mom continued on, not caring that I’d not given her an answer to her question. “You’re still off Wednesday, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
She grinned, a predatory, toothy smile. “That’s wonderful. We’ll invite them to dinner. Phyllis, Jacob, and Wade. Bring the children. We’ll go to The Olive Garden.”
No, no, no!
“What a lovely idea,” Aunt Sadie crooned, and I knew instantly that it was too late.
I’d walked into a trap that had already been laid before I even showed up tonight.
The invitation had already been sent and accepted, and the reservation made.
Even worse, I couldn’t get out of it without causing upset at Grammie’s party.
“What’s wrong with her?” Dad asked, spying the look on my face.
I’d thought I’d managed to hide my displeasure, but I supposed not.
“Oh, she’s put out because we’re taking her and the kids out to dinner on Wednesday and invited the Winklemans.”
“Well, we’re doing something nice for you and the kids. You’re getting a nice dinner for once, not something cheap you are allowed to buy on food stamps.” His tone held a veneer of derision.
“Now, Bill, they can buy regular people food on food stamps. Just not steak and lobster, I think.”
I winced. Had I been this oblivious to their snobbery and ill informed natures before the divorce?
“Well, if she had bothered to forgive him and understood that she needed to give him more of her time and attention, we wouldn’t have to be introducing her to new husband material, now would we?”
And there it was. The same old song. I should have understood. I should have forgiven him. I expected too much and drove him to it. I broke up the family. Never any blame on him, and they never said a peep about his missed payments and visits. It was all me.
Grammie wandered over. “Sarah! You came! Your mother said you probably would be working.”
I turned, a genuine smile lighting up my face. “I swapped shifts with someone,” I told her. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday for all the world!”
She hugged me. “Come sit with me,” she said in my ear before releasing me. I followed her to the couch and sat in the spot she patted next to her.
“Remember when you were little and had that Sesame Street play set? The one with Grover and the Furry Arms, I think it was called?”
I blinked. I did remember it. It was a fond but very misty sort of memory.
“I do. Grover was my favorite.”
“He sure was. You used to say you were going to own a hotel one day. And then when you were about eight, your grandpa and I took you to that small inn in Vermont for a week during summer vacation. Your mom and dad went to Greece for their anniversary, and we felt you also deserved a little trip.”
I smiled. I remembered that place. It had frilly curtains and ruffled bedspreads and had been in an old house that was a very short drive away from a beach. I’d wanted to live there forever.
“You told your grandpa that one day, when you owned a hotel, it would be just like that one.”
“That was a child’s dream, Grammie.”
“Maybe, but perhaps your finding a job at a hotel is the universe’s way of reminding you of that childhood dream.”
I laughed. “I clean rooms for Lucky 7, a discount motel chain. I’m not even a manager.”
“But what if your dream could come true?” She squeezed my hand. “Don’t answer me yet. Think about it. What if you were given the money to open a place? Maybe not a bed and breakfast, even, but a rooming house? Or something that’s a combo of both? Long and short term stays?”
“I’d ask what the catch was.”
“One little test in exchange for the funds and support and a clean start for you and the kids on a brand new world.”
My eyes widened. “Grammie! You’re talking about the mate test. I could get mate matched to an alien?”
“A sexy as sin alien who’s your destined mate, just like in a romance novel, only real.
Oh, pish, don’t look at me like that. I’ve got eyes and know a good piece of eye candy when I see one.
I’m seventy-one, not dead. Besides, the odds of getting matched is super low.
Even lower if you don’t opt for the Mylos test too for some college money. ”
“You two look like you’re plotting,” my cousin Mary said, sidling over with baby June on her hip. “Say happy birthday to Great Grammie, Junie.”
The baby hid her face in her shoulder.
“We were just talking about things I remembered from when she was little and stayed with Grandpa and I.”
“I see.” When she realized Grammie wasn’t going to elaborate, nor was she going to offer to take Junie, she wandered off.
“This is supposedly my party, but notice how everyone is mostly ignoring me?” She lowered her voice even lower.
“This is why I’m moving in with Leigh Ann and Ruby.
We’ve bought a mobile home in a retirement park down in Florida to Golden Girl it.
Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to find out until I call them from down there with the news.
I’m likely to live to be ninety, and I get around just fine.
And there’s a shuttle bus for us to go shopping and to the local medical center.
We fly out next Tuesday. Goodwill’s coming Monday to take my furniture and things I’m not taking.
Ruby’s son is driving a Uhaul of the stuff we all are bringing.
And we’re staying at the Ramada Inn by the airport Monday night. ”
I understood then. She was wanting me to get out from all of this drama just as she was and hoping to see me do so before she left.
“You sure sound like you’ve all thought of everything. I’ll miss you, Grammie.”
“Oh, pish! There’s phone service and internet down there. I know how to use email and a cell phone, and so do you.”
“Mother, come to the dining room. We’ve got a buffet set up there, and as the birthday girl, you get to go first.”
Grammie got up, but not before giving me a meaningful look.
I stood up, rounding up my kids from where they were playing outside with their cousins.
Could I really revisit that old dream? I was a good cook and baked decent cakes, and if I used ready made crusts, my homemade pies were pretty good too.
And I made a mean no bake cheesecake. Not that I got to do any of those things all that often.
I preferred to use the food money for plenty of fruit and vegetables and such for the kids.
Most nights we had salad or homemade soup before our main course and fresh or canned fruit in juice for dessert, in fact.
Food grown on a colony world would be extra fresh. And they’d have a lot more freedom to play outside. And I’d be working from home, so they’d see me more. But what if I did end up matched?