Page 16 of Afternoon Delight
Mom worked especially hard to prove their mutual love to Dad’s family, even though his mother and sister were relentlessly awful to her. Gram-gram was gone, but Aunt Linda, who’d always been tight with Dad’s first wife, barely spoke to Mom at his funeral. Some people are jerks—even when they give your daughter Gram-gram’s earrings and money for your grandkids’ college funds.
I accepted both and wrote Aunt Linda a thank-you card.
That was Mom’s influence. She always took the high road. When everyone came to town for Dad’s funeral, Mom insisted on having Aunt Linda and her family over for dinner, even though I offered to take them to a restaurant. She wanted them in our home—to prove it was a home.
The relentless judgment of Mom as a homewrecker was the reason she had always been relentless about keeping me in line. She was hell-bent on making sure I wouldn’t be criticized—or become a source of criticism on her mothering skills.
To forestall that possibility, she criticized me mercilessly, which is why I was equally critical of her. It was the circle of life.
That’s also why I’d always seen her as uptight and sexless. After her oopsy-pregzee with her married boss, Mom’s only path to redemption had been to never do anything remotely immoral or fun again. Being the mother of a pregnant, unmarried teenager had been inconceivable—haha. So she had talked me into marrying Joel and here I was.
But the truth is, Mom had seen things. She worked in a doctor’s office. She knew how bodies worked. She knew sex was human.
She also had a sense of humor—when she let it out to play.
Along with the table runner, she’d brought a pair of pillows with heart-print cases, a heart-shaped chocolate box, and a teddy bear with XO stitched on its belly. She arranged them around every heart-themed sex toy she could find in the store—the butt plug with a heart-shaped jewel at its base, the mask with heart-shaped eye covers, the glass dildo with suspended hearts, the flavored lube with the hearts on their packaging, and the panties with a heart-shaped crotch cutout.
She even brought a miniature chalkboard and easel, on which she’d written:
Get your heart on for
Valentine’s Day.
“Mom.” I pretended to be shocked, but I was genuinely impressed.
“Oh, please. It was low-hanging fruit.”
“Perfect slogan for the testicle toys.” I pointed at her.
“Tsk.” She brushed chalk dust from her hands and glanced around. “Shall I do something with that table?”
“Sure. But I also need a theme for the re-launch. Do you have any streamers at home?”
“You want something classier than paper streamers, Meg. I’ll see if I can find my fairy lights. I had a box of electric tealights at some point, too.” She tapped her chin and scanned the shop. “When is Mardi Gras? Maybe we could use the beads and masks?”
“That would be fun in the swag bags. All I’ve got so far is a condom and a coupon.”
“When are you planning the re-launch?”
“The sooner the better, but I want to check next door to make sure they’re okay with it.”
“Why wouldn’t they want you to bring foot traffic to their door?”
I thought of Dale. “They’re my landlords. It’s polite to ask.”
I’d briefly seen Zak again yesterday when I bundled up and went out to wash the window. He poked his head out of the antique store and said, “I’ll do it with the squeegee.”
Ten minutes later, I got a far-too-brief demo of his economical movements. We hadn’t spoken since.
Mom grabbed her purse from behind the cash desk and was heading to the door when it opened.
“Oh, excuse me.” She politely stepped aside.
I looked up, heart skipping. But it wasn’t Zak.
A lean Black man walked in. He had wide shoulders and a muscular build beneath a red tracksuit with stripes down the sleeves and legs.
“Good morn—afternoon,” I corrected myself. “Browsing, or looking for something in particular?”
