Page 15 of Take A Number
My father cuts my mother off as he steps forward and claps Dean on the back. “Son, I sincerely hope you like hard liquor. I find it helps in situations like this.” He ushers Dean away despite my wide, pleading eyes.
“Seriously, Norah. What is going on here?” my mother seethes, losing all that fake kindness her voice had earlier as she grabs my arm in a death grip. “I haven’t seen you with a date since…well…ever.”
“You wanted me to bring a date, Mom,” I reply and gently extract myself from her vise grip. “You explicitly told me so multiple times.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want you to bring just any man. I wanted you to bring Nathaniel. He’s perfect for you.” She fingers her silver, gelled hair delicately while shooting a fake smile out to her party guests milling about.
“Well, beggars can’t be choosers.” I reach out to swipe a flute of champagne off a passing server’s tray, and the young man reaches out and grabs my hand.
“That’s a used champagne, ma’am,” he stammers nervously while extracting the glass from me.
“Used?” I glance down and see red lip prints on the edge of the glass. “Oh my God, gross. Why would you pass out used champagne?”
“I’m just taking the glass away to be washed.” He eyes me up and down like I’m in the middle of a psychotic break and then points to the area beside me. “The fresh glasses are behind you.”
“Get a grip, Norah!” my mother hisses and swipes a flute from the ridiculous champagne tower backlit with white twinkle lights.
She hands it over to me, and I murmur an apology to the man before taking a fortifying sip. “Sorry, Mom, but you’re stressing me out.”
My mother demurely sips from her flute. “I just wish you had told me you were bringing someone because…”
“Because what?”
I turn to my mother as she speaks to me out of the side of her mouth. “I invited Nathaniel, and he said he was really looking forward to seeing you.” She squeals the last bit like she’s some sort of high school gal pal who just passed me a note from the boy I’ve had a crush on.
“Mother!” I’m shocked. “Why would you invite him?”
Her smile falters as she turns to face me with wide, warning eyes. “Because Jim and Carol are our dearest friends and their son just moved back to town, and it won’t kill you to talk to him. Who is this Dean person anyway? You never hinted you were seeing anyone.”
My brow furrows, and I open my mouth to reply but then remember the rule about not bringing up work. “I’m…um…I met him at the bakery.”
Her face softens a bit. “How long have you been dating?”
“Not long,” I reply instantly, and her expression deflates, so I quickly add, “which is why I wasn’t sure I should bring him tonight. It’s early in our relationship, but he practically insisted. He really wanted to meet you guys.”
My mother’s eyes twinkle with hope that kills me a little inside because this is all a big, fat lie. “Well, he’s very polished. What does he do for a living?”
I force a proud smile. “Financing and investing. He’s a broker for a handful of wealthy people here in Boulder. And he’s a primary investor in my Denver location.” That’s not technically breaking the rules because it’s still referring to Dean’s work, not mine.
My mother’s chest puffs out. “A businessman, how impressive.”
I want to roll my eyes because if a man runs a business, it’s impressive. If I do, it distracts me from getting married and having babies. I square my shoulders and add, “Dean is very impressive, Mother. I’d love for you to get to know him. We should go find him and Dad.”
My mother grasps my arm in her cool hand and leads me slowly into the party toward the bar where Dad and Dean are currently talking. “But this is a sticky situation, pumpkin, because I gave Nathaniel the impression that you needed an escort tonight.”
“An escort?” My voice rises sharply. “What am I? A prized heifer at the county fair?”
“Would you stop? It won’t kill you to be nice to him. He won’t arrive until later because of some West Coast conference call.”
I blink my eyes rapidly. “Mom, I can’t have two dates tonight. You have to fix this.”
“Relax, Norah, it’ll work itself out.”
“Jeffrey,” my mom coos, turning her attention to my dad. “I think you owe me a dance. It is our anniversary, after all.”
“It would be my pleasure, wife.” My dad takes a sip of his whiskey and lifts his brows knowingly to Dean before whisking my mother off to the checkered dance floor in front of the band.
“This is a disaster,” I groan and turn to prop my elbows on the bar. “Can I get another champagne, please?”
