Page 20 of Take Me to the Wedding

I wasn’t expecting that, but I said sure. As I sat down and took a couple more bites of the cinnamon roll (why waste a good thing?), a flustered barista ran over to our table with Lilly’s drink. “Here you go,” she said. “Sorry for the error. We’re training someone new today and she’s a little nervous.”

“Thanks,” Lilly said with a wide smile, standing up as she spoke, “but it’s a little late. Sorry you’re too busy to properly supervise your trainees.”

The barista looked a little surprised. Frankly, so was I.

Lilly’s words certainly didn’t come out right. I was sure she didn’t mean them in a stinging fashion. Did she?

“It’s all hands on deck when the new interns come every July too,” I said with a sympathetic glance at our harried barista.

Lilly gave me an unreadable look, then pulled a bill out of her purse and traded the drink for the bill. “I’m sorry if that came out harsh. Thanks for fixing it.”

“No problem,” the woman said with a smile.

I wanted to add about nine more dollars to the buck tip. But to be fair, she’d apologized.

As the employee walked away, Lilly said, “Caleb, you’ve always been such a softie. Always trying to smooth out conflict.”

I shrugged. “Comes with the middle-child territory.”

“I just think people need feedback when new employees aren’t being carefully supervised. As a business manager myself, customer service is really important. It impacts people’s perception of the business.”

“I get it,” I said, but all I wanted was to let this go. Also, was she mansplaining to me? I wanted to tell her to chill out a little. I mean, give people the benefit of the doubt when they’re new, you know?

We started the two-block walk. I hadn’t been back to town since Christmas, and believe me, the holidays here are beautiful, but there is nothing like a stroll on a beautiful June day with pots of colorful flowers bursting everywhere in front of all the storefronts. And the smell of homemade fudge from the ice-cream shop carrying on the breeze. And everyone saying hey instead of huddling inside their winter coats. I must’ve seen about six people I knew from growing up.

It felt great to be home. It reaffirmed my desire to come back and settle down here. Of course, I hadn’t told my family yet—I knew they loved me so much they’d be all over that news, and I wanted to make sure I had the job first. And I’m kidding. They do love me, but what my folks really wanted from me now were grandchildren, preferably as near as next door.

It felt good also walking beside Lilly just as we had so many times before. But I didn’t try to hold her hand. I just let it sink in that I was with her and that I wanted to get to know the person she was now. Things were feeling pretty good so far.

The shop bell of Reclaimchimed as we walked in. Chipped chandeliers—my sister would call that shabby chic—hung from the ceiling, and the place was surrounded by racks of—well, any kind of clothing imaginable. The owners had bought the space next door, and that part contained household items of all types—china, books, glassware, furniture, the walls covered with framed paintings of all sizes and types. I’d only been here once before—years ago when Mia was looking for a prom dress—but I didn’t think that any of the decor had changed.

At first I thought that no one was around except for a few senior volunteers sifting through several long tables piled high with clothing. But then I heard laughter. Which I would describe as completely raucous. As I turned toward the voices, I saw, in the center of the room, in front of a massive mirror, two women… dancing. To be fair, Earth Wind and Fire’s “September” was playing over a speaker, and who could resist dancing to that? But still.

“My God, Caleb,” Lilly said, tugging on my shirtsleeve, “is that yourmother? And who is that with her?”

I didn’t know what disconcerted me more—the sight of my mother shimmying around, shaking it with her arms above her head in that fancy purple dress, or Sam, in a bright shimmery orange dress, letting loose right next to her.

Probably the latter. My mom used to act spontaneous like this when we were kids. “Come on, we’re pirates,” she’d say, grabbing a paper towel roll. “Now get your swords ready and prepare for battle!” Or waltzing into the kitchen after school with a giant Snickers bar on a cutting board and cutting it into slices we all shared, each piece a tiny prize. She was a fun mom, full of imagination. But I didn’t think she’d done a lot of anything like that since the cancer.

Sam was laughing with my mother, her hair spilling out of her ponytail, her laughter boisterous and even a little loud.Who knew she had that in her?And she looked amazing in that dress, free and unrestrained, letting loose. I felt confused. A little stunned. But also weirdly happy. Like, a big part of me wanted to join right in with them.

Oh, and it appeared champagne was involved, judging by the two plastic half-empty glasses nearby.

What kind of thrift store was this?

Lilly leaned over me to see. “Oh my gosh, your mom’s got some moves.”

Yeah. And you know who else had them? My nemesis. Sam was dancing with abandon, jumping up and down with enthusiasm, hip-bumping my mom.

It was quite the spectacle.

Confused and half embarrassed, I turned to leave.

Lilly had other ideas. “Hi, Mrs. D’Angelo,” she called over the music, already heading over there.

Both women halted. My mom turned around. She blew back some hair that had fallen over her face.

My mother was absolutely not the type to appear disheveled. Or to be wearing a colorful purple dress with some kind of sparkly overskirt.

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