Page 36 of Fire and Icing

I don’t know what comes over me.

I hit the speaker button.

“Mom, Stevens, Mitzi, this is Emberleigh. She’s the local baker, and … my friend.”

Emberleigh nods her approval of the label I give our relationship. Obviously, we’re not fake dating when it comes to our families, but we’re not exactly telling them we’re about to enter into a farce on television either.

“Hi, Emberleigh,” Mom shouts. “It’s so nice to meet you!”

“Mom, she’s not hard of hearing,” Mitzi chides. Then she says, “Hi, Emberleigh. Are you the one with the donuts my brother hasn’t stopped talking about?”

Emberleigh looks up at me, her eyebrows raised. I shrug. What can I say? They’re the best donuts I’ve ever had. I might have raved about them during some family texts and calls.

“Nice to meet you,” Emberleigh says. “Yes. I bake donuts. Your brother seems to like the blueberry-lemon quite a bit.”

She’s not looking at me. Her eyes are fixed on the phone sitting between us on the table.

“I do,” I admit. “A lot.”

“Hi, Emberleigh,” my brother says, “I’m Stevens, Dustin’s older brother. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” Emberleigh smiles softly.

I like her meeting my family. It feels like tying two loose ends together. Not that she’s anything to me. She’s taken up far too many hours of mental deliberation since I moved to Waterford—all because she was my first rescue and the cause of so much teasing at the station. She’s become a mission of sorts—winning her over. And now, I suppose, we’re friends. Having her meet three of the most important people in my life means something to me, even if I can’t quite figure out why.

“Well, we’ve got to go,” I say, trying to prevent my mom from saying anything too irrevocable and humiliating.

“So soon?” Mom asks. “We’ve barely said hello.”

“Dustin tells me you own your own taco shop, Mitzi,” Emberleigh says.

My eyes snap to hers. She’s actually continuing the conversation? She obviously has no clue the ramifications of engaging with my mom. Don’t get me wrong. My mom’s amazing. Delightful. One of my favorite people on earth. But she’s like a shark. When she smells blood in the water, everything else becomes instantly irrelevant. She’s a determined, fanatical underwater missile aiming straight for the source.

“My place is called Mitzi’s Tacos,” Mitzi answers. “Having my own business is a dream come true. Most days.”

“Tell me about it,” Emberleigh says. “I always wanted my own bakery. I didn’t realize the full scope of what I was asking for. Employees, overhead, inventory, the long hours …”

“Exactly!” my sister exclaims. “Girl. I’m going to have to get your number from Dustin. I can always use another female entrepreneur to vent to.”

“Uh …” I stammer.

“Sure,” Emberleigh says. “I’d love that. I do have a partner, Sydney. She’s been my best friend since childhood. We run the shop together, even though I own the majority share in the business.”

She does? Interesting.

“Well, Emberleigh, you sound positively delightful,” Mom says. “Are you single?”

“Mom!” I say in unison with my siblings.

“What?” she answers with a faux innocence dripping from the word.

“Stop please, Mom,” Stevens says in that solid, self-controlled tone he always uses.

We’re such opposites. My older brother is steady and predictable. Never seeks the limelight. I’m the jokester, the classclown, the one who always kept Mom on her toes. I don’t exactly crave the limelight, but I’m rarely found in the shadows.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stop whatever it is that you kids think I’m doing. I’m just trying to get to know the young woman who’s on a date with my son. So sue me.”

“We’re not on a date,” Emberleigh and I say in unison. Our eyes catch and we share a private smile.

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