Page 70 of The Charming Checklist
“Can you have this shipped for me? I’m leaving tomorrow morning, but I couldn’t leave this one behind.”
“I think you’ve personally kept Marjorie in business this month,” Ava said, helping prop the large print in a corner.
“I’d been on the fence about this one, because your father willhateit.” She went hands on hips. “But after his attitude, I think he deserves this.”
“Which print is it?” Ava asked, knowing that Marjorie kept some rather...um, interesting art pieces in her gallery. “Who’s the artist?”
Mom peeled the paper back enough for Ava to see. It was a rendering of a woman’s anatomy, opening up like a blooming flower. By none other than their local artist, the irrepressible Phoebe Cahill.
“Um, wow, it’s um...colorful.”
She had to smile as she pictured her father’s face when he saw this incredible homage to the vagina.
“Breathtaking. I’m putting it over the fireplace in a place of honor and I don’t care what your father says on the subject.”
They stood there for a moment admiring. Ava swallowed hard. Now or never. Ever since Mr. Keith’s less-than-kind remarks, the matter of Princeton had been on her mind.
“I’m sorry you spent so much money on my education.”
“What? Where’s this coming from?”
“It was recently brought to my attention that I might have received the same kind of education someplace a bit more economical. But you and Dad probably sent me there because you thought I’d be a doctor like you.”
“That’s true, but you tried to tell us. We didn’t listen.”
“All that money. I didn’t really think about it.”
“I’ve always felt that education was its own reward. Whether you realize it or not, you learned something there that you couldn’t have learned anywhere else. I’m sure of it. And you’ll use that knowledge. In ways you can’t begin to imagine.” Mom pulled her into a sideways hug. “In case I haven’t said this lately, I’m so glad to have had a daughter. And I’m especially happy that it’s you.”
The words were a gift. She’d spent years disappointing her mother while loving her in the only way she could. “I love you, Mom.”
“Love you.”
They spent the rest of the evening eating one of her mother’s early attempts at Tex-Mex cooking, a nachos dish with black beans, yellow cheese and canned vegetables that wasn’t half bad. Later, they watched a scary movie and made fun of the people walking into dark and dank basements with nothing but a spatula for protection. They made plans to visit Nanny Lucia in Colombia after her mother’s retirement next year. Together this time.
Poor Mom. She would go back to her career and tick off the days until she could be free. That’s not what Ava had ever wanted for herself. After Mom had gone to bed, Ava lay a while longer on the couch, thinking of Max. His wonderful mouth. Gorgeous deep brown eyes and wavy dark hair.
The silly man had come up with a list to find his perfect wife. There were some similarities between him and her father, she realized. Both were high achievers who were a little dumb when it came to love. But Max had learned. He’d grown. She pulled out her phone to text him good-night, but instead went to The List. Something had been niggling away in the back of her mind. Some little wisp of an idea she couldn’t quite grasp. Max had asked her to delete the list, but she hadn’t. In the back of her mind, she wanted to remember. She wanted to be able to tease him years from now when he realized how wrong he’d been.
Between the ages of 30-36
Intelligent
Kind and compassionate
Well educated—at least a bachelor’s but more is better here
Even-tempered, not easily excitable
Quiet and introverted
Highly successful in her career and/or business
Brunette
Ready for marriage and children
Now, as she read all of his stringent requirements for the perfect wife all over again, she laughed. She hadn’t met his requirements, but thanks in part to him, she’d at least soon be able to add “successful in business.” He’d almost made that happen for her. Out of the goodness of his heart, because he loved her, or because he had some preconceived notion of who his woman should be? No, she didn’t believe that.
