inging out a couple of jelly jar glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea. She presses the cool glass into my palm, her eyes bright with moisture that she blinks away, shrugging apologetically.
“I’m just so happy to see you,” she half whispers in a hurry.
“Aw, Ma, I’m happy to see you too,” I confess.
I feel guilt lapping at the edges of me like floodwaters that want to get in. But I don’t have time for guilt right now. It’ll come later, I know it, but right now I have a mission.
“So what’s the story, morning glory?”
I take a sip of the tea, trying to organize my thoughts. The taste is welcome and refreshing, just like I remember it.
“Well, this is all kind of all screwed up, to be honest. I think I really need your help.”
Her eyebrows go up and she pushes her wild red hair, now shot through with streaks of equally wild silver, behind her ears. Her people are Scottish, stocky and sturdy, pretty and optimistic with flaming red hair. I’m glad those are the things that I picked up from her.
“Anything you need,” she explains to me as she wedges her wide bottom on the other kitchen stool.
“Well… This was all supposed to be Didi’s job. Our boss, Martha, wants to open a gallery in the old hat shop.”
“The old hat shop... Wait, Phyllis’s place? Why, nothing has been in there for years! Gee, it has to be like ten years at least, far as I remember.”
“Yeah, and it smells like it,” I remark sourly.
“Well, you can handle that!” she shrugs, grinning proudly. “They definitely sent the right lady to do the job.”
I place the glass carefully on the counter. “In… nine days?”
She swallows and flares her nostrils. “Nine days for what?” she asks cautiously.
“Well, Didi… she sort of… dropped the ball,” I explain in a rush. “I need the place turned over in nine days, so I can have a big grand opening on the tenth day.”
Mom opens her mouth, then closes it, then raises her eyes to the ceiling and takes a deep breath to suppress what I’m sure is explosive laughter.
“So you’re telling me Didi has not changed?”
I find myself almost laughing too. It’s nice to know that somebody in this world understands what I’m going through.
“Not one little bit!”
“It’s nice to know some things are so reliable! How many times did you have to do her homework for her?”
“Oh jeez,” I sigh. “More than I could count. How did you even know that? I don’t think Didi’s mom ever figured it out.”
Mom purses her lips. “Hmm, I guess she had a lot else on her mind,” she mutters guiltily. “You heard she’s at Harbor Oaks now?”
My eyes go wide. “What?” I gasp. “Holy shit!”
“Joanna!” she barks, aghast.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble, blushing. “I forgot we don’t say those words down here.”
“You’ll just have to leave your Manhattan manners behind, okay?” she scolds me.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “So… what happened?”
“She just went to rehab and I guess she liked it so much she decided to retire there.”
“Wait… are you joking? I don’t know if that’s funny.”