Page 2 of His Candy Cane (Sweet Treats 1)

She frowns for a moment.

“You know, Maisie, you could be a little more grateful. Your dad and I thought long and hard about what would make for a meaningful birthday gift, and I think you’ll really enjoy this one.”

“You mean, like the time you signed me up for Astronaut Camp one summer, and how much I appreciated that?”

Lorraine frowns at the memory because when I was twelve, my parents thought enrolling me in NASA’s Space Camp would be beneficial. Hopefully it would “expand my horizons” and I’d become a junior astronaut in training. Unfortunately, not only were the math and science classes way over my head, but the so-called pilot simulations made me sick. For a week straight, I came home with vomit on my clothes. The experience was ugly, smelly, and completely revolting in every way.

So I fix my mom with an exasperated look.

“Okay, let’s have it,” I say. “What is it?”

My mom’s expression brightens and her blonde bob bounces up and down as she pulls her hands out from behind her back.

“Ta-da!” she sings. “Here you go!”

I stare at the laminated plastic card in her palm, squinting.

“Mr. P’s CrossFit? What is that?”

She laughs joyously, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm.

“Haven’t you heard of CrossFit sweetheart? It’s the newest exercise routine. Evidently, there’s a real focus on strength training and muscle building, and Daddy and I think you’ll really like it.”

I stare at my mom.

“But I hate working out.”

Lorraine rolls her eyes and blows air from her nose in exasperation.

“Yes, I know, sweetheart, which is exactly why we got you this gift for your birthday. This will inspire you to exercise more because we signed you up for one on one training session with Mr. P himself. You’re going to work with a personal trainer once a week for the next couple months so that you come out a lean, mean, sexy machine.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Is this about my weight again? I swear, Mom, haven’t you and Dad given up on that by now? Especially after sending me to chubby camp?”

I’m referring to the summer when I was fifteen, and my parents shipped me off to a campground in Maine where I was supposed to lose thirty pounds in two months. I hated it. All we did was exercise for six hours a day, and I got so hungry that I ate like a crazed woman at every meal. Instead of losing thirty pounds, I put on fifteen, much to Lorraine and Henry’s dismay. I think they might even have asked for their money back. But in my opinion, it was just another ill-fated attempt by my parents to push my life in a direction in an inadvisable way.

When will they understand that I’m a twenty-five year-old woman who doesn’t need their guidance anymore? When will they give up trying to turn me into someone I’m not? After all, I’m fine financially, and I’m happy with my job, my social life, and my little Jetta. I suppose since I live at home, my parents think that they still get a say in my life, which I guess they do to some extent. But still, their nosiness and attempts to help are so annoying.

I stare at Lorraine.

“Mom, CrossFit is for insane people, haven’t you heard? The women come out of it looking like muscleheads. It’s okay for guys to get really pumped and huge, but do you want me looking like a female bodybuilder by the end?”

Lorraine giggles, her blonde bob bouncing.

“Of course not, honey. It’s just that your father and I want you to stand on your own two feet, and we thought CrossFit would help you get there.”

“But how?” I ask with puzzlement. “CrossFit will help me get in shape, but it’s not going to help me become more of an adult, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

My mom sighs, easing herself into the chair across from me. Lorraine has always been slim, and she’s probably at least forty pounds less than me. To her credit, she doesn’t compare our body types because I take after my dad, with his round, stocky frame.

“Well, Maisie, your father and I want what’s best for you, and you’re still living at home. You’re twenty-five now, and it’s clear that your job as a vet tech is never going to pay enough so that you can afford to move out on your own. As a result, we want you to slim down a bit so that you can find the right man. Maybe you’ll hit it off, and you’ll be able to move in with him, get married, and have a family.”

I hold up a hand, palm out.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mom. You’re going at lightspeed here. Who said anything about having a family?”

My mom merely sighs.

“It’s not about grandbabies per se. It’s just … well, have you seen that movie Failure to Launch, honey?”

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