Page 43 of The Sweet Spot

“I know.” I tug her close for an affectionate side-squeeze. “But tonight’s gonna be great.”

“Better be. I spent all day cleaning, and you know how much I hate cleaning.”

My phone lights up with a text.

“Arlo wants to know if he can bring anything.”

“Just himself,” says Mom, sipping her wine.

I pass on the message. “He says he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

* **

Mom’s just put on her favorite Ella Fitzgerald album when the doorbell rings. I hurry over to the door, peering through the peephole as I open it.

I can barely see Arlo because of the enormous white bakery box in his arms.

“Hi, Arlo! Is that from Elodie’s?” I ask, squinting at the lavender scrawl across the top of the box.

“Sure is.” He leans around the box and kisses each of my cheeks; Arlo is very French in that way. “I know you said you were all set, but I couldn’t resist getting a little something.”

“More like a big something.” I shut the door and glance around, wondering at my mother’s disappearing act. I thought she was right behind me, but I guess not. “Here, let me take that.”

Arlo hands off the box, jerking his chin at the row of shoes near the door. “Should I take off my shoes?”

“If you want. We usually do.”

“Good thing I wore clean socks,” he says, winking as he bends to untie his boots.

Mom’s in the kitchen, tossing a nervous smile our way as she fusses with the fruit and cheese board. “Oh, hi!”

I set the bakery box on the counter. “Mom, this is Arlo. Arlo, my mother, Lily.”

“Welcome, Arlo.” She puts down the cluster of grapes she’d been using as a prop and wipes her hands on her skirt. “I’m glad you could come.”

“Hi, Lily,” Arlo says, giving Mom’s hand a gentle shake. “Thanks so much for having me. It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Oh! Well.” Mom swallows visibly as their hands connect. “Sure. You, too.”

“I mean it. You’ve raised a remarkable young woman.”

Her eyes widen, and she nods. “Thank you.”

And there it is: my parents, in the same room, in the same frame, shaking hands. It’s awkward and there’s a lot of thanking going on, but it’s happening.

Eventually my mother extricates herself from the situation and folds her arms, looking at the box on the counter. “So, ah, what’ve you got, there?”

Arlo grins and flips open the box, revealing a rainbow-colored assortment of macarons. “I know you said you didn’t need anything, but I couldn’t come empty handed.”

“No way.” I dart forward to look closer. Macarons aren’t cheap, and there have to be about thirty or forty here. Not to mention, they’re Mom’s favorite. I can’t believe he remembered what I said.

Mom gasps softly, her cheeks patched with pink. “You must’ve cleaned Elodie’s out.”

“Almost.” Arlo shrugs, a faint smile etched across his face as he watches her. “I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, so…”

Mom tucks her hair behind her ear, laughing softly. “So, you got them all.”

Swallowing a smile, I turn to the cabinet and procure another wine glass. “Arlo, would you like a glass of wine?”

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