Page 67 of Flirting with Forever

“I wanted you to see these, Mary. Do you have any idea how old I am in these photos?”

Mary’s stomach dropped out, through her feet, through to the second floor of the house, and kept on going down to the kitchen and straight into the basement.

“I see you’ve upped the ante and decided to start harassing me with visual aids.” Mary was proud of herself for keeping any of her anger and outrage and pain out of her voice.

“I’m not harassing you, Mary. I’m trying to show you something. I wasn’t that much older than you in these pictures.”

These pictures, where, in Mary’s eyes, her mother looked utterly lovely. Yes, she looked forty years old. But shewasforty years old. Where the hell was the crime in that?

Her mother stood suddenly, grabbing Mary’s hand and practically dragging her down the attic stairs. They wound up in the hallway with the pageant photos. Naomi pointed with a manicured, shaking finger at the beautiful twenty-year-old girl there. “You know the story, Mary. You know how your father and I met.”

“Dad was a dorky broadcasting guy up in the booth that day,” Mary said in a voice shaky from her adrenaline, from her disbelief at what was happening. “He fell in love with you during the competition and found you in the dressing room after you won. Brought you a bouquet of crappy daisies and asked you on a date.”

“Your father wasnotdorky,” Naomi claimed. “He was just...less fashionable than some other men. But he was kind to me. And sweet and smart.”

“Mom!” Mary took her mother by the shoulders. “How come you can’t defend yourself the way you just did Dad? He wastotallya dork. A computer nerd. You are beautiful in these pictures.” Mary held up the plastic box. “Why can’t you see reality?”

“You have no idea, Mary,” Naomi hissed. “You have no idea how long it took for us to get pregnant. You have no idea what it’s like to really watch your body change with age. You have no idea—”

“You were twenty-five when you got pregnant! What do you mean it took you a long time?”

“All our friends were pregnant already. Your father and I took years, Mary. Do you know how humiliating that was? How happy I was when you were finally here?”

“No, Mom. I didn’t know any of that. Because you’ve been hiding the evidence in the attic like a crazy person.” Mary shook the box of photos. “I really can’t believe this is happening. You think that showing me these photos of you at age forty is going to scare me into running out and getting married and knocked up? You think I don’t know what it’s like to watch my body change as I age? You think I’m the exact same as I was in my twenties? You think I haven’t changed my style and my beauty care regimen and my exercise routine? I’m aware of my age, Mom. It just doesn’t affect my happiness.”

Naomi pinched the bridge of her nose. When she spoke, it was with a shaky, synthetic patience. “Your father fell in love with me because of my looks, Mary. At first, at least. When we’d been married and been through life together, he loved me for different reasons. He’s loyal and faithful and sweet. But it was this that got him. This.” She pointed again at the beautiful girl in the pageant photos. “And I’m begging you to keep an open mind.”

“An open mind?” Mary asked in confusion. “Anopen mind? You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re telling me to have an open mind? You’re the most closed-minded person in my life!”

Naomi reeled back. “I’m not closed-minded. I’m realistic. And it wouldn’t kill you to get your head out of the clouds.”

“Mom, I don’t have my head in the clouds. I started a business over from scratch. A successful business. I’ve almost doubled my savings in the last three years. I’ve picked up and rebuilt in just a few weeks since the break-in. I have valuable relationships.”

The doorbell rang and both Naomi and Mary jumped. The two women froze, eyeing one another.

A flash of guilt crossed Naomi’s face.

“Who’s at the door?” Mary asked suspiciously.

“I asked you to keep an open mind. Please, Mary.”

“Mom. Who. Is. At. The. Door.”

“I’ll get it!” her father yelled as he came up the basement steps, oblivious to the civil war that was breaking out in his own home.

“Mom—”

“Carver!” her father said in surprise at the front door, two rooms over. “What a surprise! Come in!”

“Sorry,” said a familiar voice that made Mary’s stomach plummet. “I didn’t mean for this to be a surprise. Naomi invited me for lunch.”

Mary took her mother by the elbow and dragged her up the second-floor stairs to the room where Mary was staying.

“Carver Reinhardt?Carver Reinhardt?Is this a joke? You invited my high school boyfriend here as a setup?”

“Open mind,” Naomi replied in a voice that was significantly less sure of herself than it had been for the last few minutes.

Maybe that was because Mary was actually letting her fury and outrage show on her face. She was done holding it back. She turned to her overnight bag and began stuffing her belongings back into it.

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