“So where’s your sugar da… ahem your old man?” I ask.
Lolita’s head tips just slightly.
“What, you’ve never taken offense to any of the walking Amex cards,” I say, trying to disconnect the feelings I have for Evan at the moment. I need to observe the slightest bit of hesitation in my mother’s flawless façade. There has to be one single seed of doubt in her demeanor. Lolita and Tony can’t last. I am falling, dreadfully fast, for his son. In less than a month, we’ve gotten together for much of it. I can’t foolishly simplify our activities into a form of exercise, no.
“Tony’s out,” Is all my mother will say, as we step onto the patio. Truly no portion of this home was left unadorned. There are sprawling lawns and an infinity pool gleams as the afternoon sun sets it ablaze with turquoise sparkles.
The conversation veers toward agreeable grounds as the three of us set the table. I feel the echo of the vaulted ceilings as we return to the state-of-the-art kitchen.
My eyes close, chest rising as I breath in Mediterranean flavors. It's what my mom does. She turns a house into a home. And that's just it. The added touches are all new, all her. The orchids in the crystal vase in the foyer. Throw rugs and touches of color. Like Evan’s home with his pristine white–and I found out added color due to him hording his mother’s antiques. Tony is just the same. This humongous place had become a beige exhibit, until my mom added pops of color here and there. None rings Tony Zaccaro the widower or even the old man who blabbers when nervous.
“You okay, Reese?” Jamie murmurs, quickly as my mother takes a pitcher of cucumber and lemon water from the fridge. We’d previously set a game plan to bring up the touchy subject after eating.
I nod.
“I’ll toss the salad,” Jamie says, never one to steer away from being crude. My mom laughs at that and I do too. He steps toward the island and picks up the wood spoon.
“I made an olive oil based salad dressing in the fridge,” Lolita says, she adds, “thanks.”
“Need any more help?” I ask as mom ties a shimmery pale-pink apron around her. I almost smile, she’s Betty Crocker meets haute couture model. “C’mere, beautiful…” A vivid image of Milo smooching the back of her neck and hugging her tightly as she stands near a stove in a polka dot apron flashes before my mind. I’m seven and watching him give her ass a fleshy smack. In my innocence, I look away, as warmth creeps up my cheek.
“Reese…” Jamie begins.
“Reese’s Pieces, what are you thinking about?” Lolita inquires, as the past evaporates before my eyes. She’s holding a non-stick pan, with flaky, buttery herb fish on top of it, and Jamie has placed down the large spoons to give me all of his attention too.
“My bakery…” I mumble. Though I seldom bring up my business since my mother only shows interest in the financial aspect when she is in need of capital, I mention how behind I am. Jamie is the only one who knows everything, I suppose that’s the sucky part about being a true friend. You have to hold onto another person’s woes as if they’re your own.
“Oh, you’ll figure it out, Reese, you always do,” Lolita says with a confident smile, while she skillfully places the fish on a crystal serving tray. Jamie rolls his eyes, tossing the salad so harshly that bits of kale and lettuce go flying. Oblivious to it all, my mom adds char-grilled zucchini to the tray.
“Yeah, I suppose I always do,” I shrug, deciding not to bring up the fact that I’ve never been this far in the red. Besides, if she keeps it up with the nonchalance about Flour Shoppe, I might scream.
“Yes, you’ll figure out how to deal with Nook,” Jamie says sardonically. He wants to make this a pivotal point of the conversation.
“Nook…?” Lolita’s eyebrows scrunch together, and then those bright eyes, flawless clarity illuminate even more as she recalls my store, Nook. “How is the new business coming along?”
The Flour Shoppe was doing so well this time last year, I decided to open an additional coffee and pastry shop, I had named “Nook” after breakfast nook, in downtown Los Angeles. Flour had always been mine from top to bottom, custom designed everything. Money got shifted around for the new place, but being investment savvy, I didn’t place all my eggs into the new basket, no. Though it wasn’t my entire pot of gold, I'd put so much money into design and construction, it was still money that I can't get back. Then my mother got added to the equation,needless to say, I lost Nook while it was in its developing stages and ended up having to take a loan out on Flour Shoppe. Hence, starting from the ground up. “Reese, you worry too much. I had no doubt that you'd pull through. Yes, I recall the lovely breakfast nook concept, you once chatted about.”
Letting my teeth scour over my bottom lip, I sigh before answering her, “Nook’s not gonna happen, Mom. The food is piping hot let’s go outside to eat.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lolita gestures toward the maid, who for so long had stood silently near the arched entryway. “Please fetch the vintage Pinot Grigio.”
As we step outside, Jamie whispers, “Although we have a key reason for intervention, Reese, next time tell her ass exactly why Nook didn’t make it.”
“I will.”
The breeze is crisp in comparison to downtown. And for a while, our trio makes for good company. The food is a flavorful firework bursting in my mouth. Yet the part of me which
