“I hear you just got back from Atlanta,” Mr. Ellison remarked from her right side.
She noted he toyed with his meager dinner, same as her. Probably couldn’t wait to tear into that duck the minute she got into her car downstairs.
“Yup. Landed at JFK this afternoon, as a matter of fact. The local foundation down there ran into a snafu with the school supplies drive earlier this week. Val and I took care of it.”
Her mother, seated across from her, studied her with razor-sharp scrutiny. “That explains why you look more drawn than usual.”
She had to anchor her eyes to keep them from rolling to the back of her skull. “Wow,” she said with no inflection. “Thanks.”
Mom, of course, looked stunning. Her platinum blond hair was styled into a sleek bob, and she’d wrapped her slender figure in a salmon-colored, bonded crepe sheath with a split funnel neckline and cap sleeves. Around her throat, she displayed one of her own designs: a simple collar necklace of polished rose gold. The piece was deceptively understated. In retail stores, that pink metal bangle ran about three grand.
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Mom retorted with one of those royal hand waves she used to dismiss anything Cam felt strongly about. “You should let Val handle the piddly details of the foundation. She’s been with you...what? Three years now?”
“Almost five.” Cam speared a stalk of broccoli and popped it into her mouth, mainly to keep from telling her mother to butt out of her business. The vegetable might as well be made of Play-Doh for all her taste buds could discern.
“There you go.” Mom’s head jerked in some kind of curt nod of approval. “I think it’s time you started delegating more of the day-to-day running to Val. You could use the extra time you’d gain to seize your life and make something of it.”
“My life is fine the way it is.”
Mom blew air out her pursed lips. “Fine. Hair is fine. Sand is fine.” She swept her fork back and forth in the air as if conducting the New York Philharmonic. “Life is supposed to be grand, adventurous, full of passion and romance!”
“No, thanks, Mom. You’ve lived enough of that kind of life for both of us.” For a nation, in Cam’s opinion, but she bit back the rest of her thought behind clamped lips.
“Maybe if you had more time on your hands, you could so something about those dark rings under your eyes.” Mom’s tone grew softer, edged with that false concern that always got Cam’s back up. ‘Find a new style for that mop on your head. You could join a gym. You’ve got such a beautiful face, sweetheart. If you’d just drop a few pounds, I’m sure you could find a man in no time.”
Here we go, right to the heart of the matter. “I’m not looking for a man, Mother.”
“Oh, come off it, Cameron. You don’t want to spend your life alone.” She made goo-goo eyes at Mr. Ellison. “Why, I’m grateful every day I ran into Andrew at that gallery opening two years ago. He’s made my life infinitely richer.”
Mr. Ellison picked up her mother’s hand and kissed her fingertips. “I was the lucky one that day, darling.”
Good thing the food was bland after all; that way, it wouldn’t burn coming back up.
“I’m happy for you both. Honestly. But there’s a big difference between living alone and being lonely. I choose to live alone, without a man I have to answer to if I work late or need to fly to Atlanta at a moment’s notice, or if I decide I want to order a pizza for dinner because I don’t feel like cooking.”
Mom pointed with her fork. “That’s your problem right there.”
“What problem?” Oh, she knew what problem. After all these years, she’d have to be dense as a cinderblock to not understand Mom thought she had a problem with food. Every six-year-old who began an annual jaunt to fat camp each summer for over a decade understood exactly where Mom and/or Dad found them lacking. “I’m comfortable with my life the way it is. I have a lot of friends, a career I love—”
“And you show up to every social function without an escort,” Mom interjected. “Or worse, with Bertie.” She didn’t even try to hide the disgust from her expression, and Cam’s fury bubbled up inside her.
Cam picked up her knife and held it blade up, like a dagger she’d flash before slicing an enemy’s throat, and threatened through gritted teeth, “Don’t say one nasty thing about Bertie or so help me, I’ll—”
“Darling, please.” This time, Mr. Ellison cut into the danger zone. “Let’s not talk about this right now. Besides, I think Cameron’s independence is admirable and courageous. It may seem strange to you, but it’s a generational thing. Young men and women of today tend to find our social strictures archaic and... dare I say?” He shot an amused glance toward Cam. “...sexist.”
Loosening her grip on the knife handle, Cam nodded in approval. Maybe this latest heartthrob still had a working brain cell or two not rendered stupid by Mom’s stunning beauty and constant demands for inane fawning.
As if he knew her thoughts, he gave Cam a saucy wink. “Let your daughter be, darling. She seems to be doing fi—” He must have recalled her mother’s reaction to the first use of the word, fine, because he quickly changed to, “well on her own.”
Mom reached out a
