Later, though, when everyone's hanging out in the living room, I find myself in the kitchen with my mom. She's putting on a kettle for a cup of tea. "You want one?" she asks.
I nod. "Sounds good." I open the pantry door and pull out a few tea bags and add them to mugs.
"So, Reuben," Mom says, "what was that about, what Plum was saying in there? That you need a princess."
"I don't know, Mom. She's a five-year-old girl. Her whole world is Disney movies and princesses and fairy tales."
"Do you want that?" Mom asks. She pours the hot water into the mugs and hands one to me.
"Mom, it's been four years."
"Yeah, exactly," Mom says, "four years. That's a long time, Reuben. You haven't gone on a single date."
"I've gone on a date," I say, cutting her off.
Mom laughs. "Going to a preschool auction with a neighbor you used to be friends with in childhood is not a date."
I chuckle. "And she was married. Her husband was just on deployment with the military."
"Exactly," Mom says, "that's not a date."
"Do I need a date?" I ask. "I'm happy with Plum. I have the best family in the world."
"I know," Mom says, "but your older brothers and sister, everybody's getting married. I don't want you to feel..."
"Mom," I say gently. “I feel content. I feel at peace. I feel..." My voice cracks, betraying the truth. "I don't know," I say. "I know everybody in this town. I'm not exactly going to uproot Plum. How would I meet someone anyways? I'm 23 years old and a widower. I've got a daughter; that's a lot."
"I know, baby," she says, "but maybe the right person will drive into town one day and sweep you off your feet."
Strangely my mind goes to that Rapunzel, her head out of the RV, her blonde hair waving in the air. "Maybe," I tell her. "In the meantime, I got a lot of good girls already: you, Lemon, Fig, my new sisters-in-law, and Plum."
Mom pats me on the back. "Okay. Okay. Enough of the talk from your mom. I'm not trying to lecture you."
"I know," I tell her. "It’s just your job to love me."