“Was I always so scattered in life? I hoped that your dad’s sensible, more organized side balanced your upbringing.” Guilt pinched her like a crab, quick and unexpected.
Bri removed a bunch of veggies from the hanging basket in the kitchen and tossed them on top of the cutting board Joe made that Julie had etched a recipe into. They’d worked well together all those years. Best friends for life, they’d always said. Not big on romance, but the partnership was there.
“Mom, I was lucky to have you both. When I went away to college and I was chatting with all those northern folks in Georgia, I realized how unique a life I’ve had. It made me appreciate this place even more. And as for you? Ha, perfect. You made life fun and exciting and unpredictable, while Dad made it safe and, to be honest, a little boring.” Bri retrieved some more vegetables from the crisper in the old white fridge. “Not that I’m complaining about Dad. Boring is good sometimes. I grew up calm, well-adjusted, and loved. I only wish I had your talent.”
Warmth like a summer breeze flittered over Julie’s skin through the open window above the kitchen sink. “You do, darling, and more.” She tucked Brianna’s ringlet brown curls behind her ear, admiring the thickness and wildness of her hair. “Is everything okay? I’m here for you if you need anything.”
“I know, Mom. You’re always there for everyone else. I heard from the Small-Town Salty Breeze line that you painted Nancy Watermore’s fence, made and delivered food to Cranky Mannie, and cut Old Lady Francie’s yard. All last week.”
“Please. The STSB line has been dead for years.”
“No, it’s alive and well, and I’m still connected, even from over five hundred miles away.” Bri peeled the onion and minced it with precision. Then diced some green peppers and mushrooms.
“Is that why you quit your job and came home?” Apparently, Julie couldn’t hold in her mothering too long.
“Hand me that onion.” Bri pointed, ignoring her mother’s question.
Julie leaned against the counter and watched her daughter create an amazing meal without a recipe. “Hon, you can tell me anything.”
“I know, Mom, and I will when I’m ready.” Brianna poured some coconut oil into the pan along with the fresh veggies. Julie recognized her daughter’s move as her avoiding-the-truth evasive action. “Let’s concentrate on your birthday for now.”
“I’m looking forward to a quiet, dignified fiftieth at home with my daughter and her amazing cooking.”
“How about a not-so-alone fiftieth?”
Julie picked up the dish towel and snapped it at Bri. “Spill it. I know that look. You’re my daughter. You’re up to something no good.”
“What? Me? I’m innocent.” Bri grabbed a spatula and moved the colorful chopped and minced food around in the pan.
“As innocent as when you glued Cranky Mannie’s gate shut? Or how about when you poured half a jar of salt into your dad’s beer, or when you put the bucket of seawater over the storage room door at the shop? I think I should’ve never mentioned my youthful antics to you. I think it inspired you too much.” Julie snapped the towel again.
“Ouch. Hey, dangerous. Hot pan here.” Bri changed the subject and focused on tossing some chicken into a pot of boiling water. Julie had no idea what they’d be eating, but knowing Bri, it would be delicious.
“Confess, then.” Julie tossed the towel onto the old tiled countertop and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you avoiding a problem of your own? Work? Boyfriend? Or are you up to something here?”
“I’m not up to anything.” Bri had a third pan on the stovetop and was working on some sort of sauce that was a pretty peach color. “As for my job, I resigned because it was just that, a job. It isn’t my passion.” Bri paused her hand mid-stir. “I just think it’s time for you to move on, and I hope a little special birthday celebration will kick start you into a new life.”
“A new life? I’m turning fifty, not twenty-one. And I like my old life. All the wrinkly, hot power surging, sun-spotted years of it.”
“Puh-leeease. You look amazing. I only wish I had your hourglass shape and those lips. I’d have to use five syringes of lip volumizing injections to make mine look like that. Besides, you look better in a bikini than any woman I know.”
“Bikini? Ha. I haven’t worn one of those in a decade or two.” Julie held up both her hands. “If you’re here for some misguided notion that I need a life intervention, you can forget it. Don’t need it. I’m happy. You should go back to your life and stop butting into mine.”
Bri turned down the burner to a simmer and wiped her hands. “Are you, Mother? Truly happy? Not the I-will-bury-my-sorrow-by-helping-others happiness?”
“Since when is it a crime to help your neighbors?”
“It’s not, unless you don’t have a life beyond that.” Bri strained the chicken from the water and added it to the frying pan. Sizzles erupted. Five-star restaurant kitchen aromas filled the small space, making Julie’s stomach growl.
“See, you need me.” Bri pointed the spatula at Julie’s belly.
“I always want you, baby girl, but I don’t need you to abandon your life to come spend my birthday with me. Is that why you left your job? Did you get fired for taking too much time off?”
“Mom, I wasn’t fired. I left. My choice, not yours, so let me figure this out. As for you, I know you want your old life, and Dad, but you can’t have that.” Bri plated the food, pouring sauce over it in a beautiful corkscrew pattern. She placed the pan on the stovetop and turned to Julie. “Mom, I love you, and that’s why I’m here. Dad wouldn’t want you to be alone anymore. I think you should sell the shop, start creating again, and date.”
Julie let out a sound like
