Page 39 of Petals and Plot Twists
“Okay,so I’m dropping you off, then going to the nursery to pick up your plant order, then coming back to your Mom’s to rescue you?” Peter says from the driver’s seat of his SUV.
I buckle my seatbelt. “Is that okay? I might not need an escape route, but I’d like to have one just in case. I have no idea how Mom is going to handle hearing about this thing with Dad. If she just wants to rant all afternoon, I’d rather not stick around for it.”
“I’m here for you however you need me,” Peter says. “And the plant order will be ready to go?”
“Yes! I already talked to Miranda. She’s expecting you.”
Peter lifts an eyebrow. “Miranda, huh?”
“What?” I say, as innocently as possible. “She works there.”
“Right,” Peter says as he backs out of his parking space. “Doesn’t the nursery usually deliver your orders?”
I clear my throat. “But it’s so close to my mom’s house. Seems silly to make a box truck drive all the way to The Serendipity when we’ll be less than a mile away and you have all this perfectly good space in the back of your SUV.”
I’m pretty sure Peter sees right through me, but I’m desperate. After what happened at his parents’ house, I need him to start dating someone, and Miranda is perfect. She’s funny and pretty and likable and we’re just going to ignore the fact that every time I think about her with Peter, I want to punch someone.
It’s fine. A phase. Whatever this weird feeling is, it’ll pass, and then everything will go back to normal.
“Does your mom know you’re coming?” Peter asks.
“Yeah, I texted her. But she doesn’t know why. She thinks I’m just dropping in to catch up after the cruise.”
Dropping in on my mom is not my usual style. It’s not that we have a bad relationship. I just tend to need a little bit of preparation before we hang out…andthen also a little time to recover after. I love my mom. But I don’t always understand her, and that leaves me feeling unsettled, unmoored somehow whenever we’ve been together. It’s gotten easier as I’ve gotten older, but mostly because I’ve gotten better at protecting myself. I retreat when I need to retreat. And I lean on Peter when I need someone to ground me again.
Peter pulls into my mother’s driveway but leaves the engine running. “All right,” he says. “I’ll come straight back here, so I won’t be long.”
I nod. “Okay, but don’t hurry. If you happen to start up any interesting conversations you don’t want to end, I won’t mind.”
“Not subtle, Soph,” Peter says dryly.
I smirk. “Who says I was trying to be subtle?”
Fake it till you make it,I think as I climb out of Peter’s SUV. I wave as he pulls away, then make my way onto Mom’s front porch.
She opens her front door wearing a gauzy white dress that looks more like a swimsuit coverup, sunglasses, and bedazzled flip-flops. As is typical, her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and her makeup is perfect.
She looks exactly like how someone who has been cruising around the globe for the past three months should look: sunkissed and relaxed and perfectly happy.
I look down at my own cutoffs and oversized v-neck t-shirt. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I’m pretty comfortable with my crazy curly hair and freckled skin, with my mostly casual wardrobe and understated vibe. But sometimes I look at my mom and wonder how I ever camefrom her.
No one has ever made being beautiful look so effortless.
“Oh, my gosh! It’s so good to see you!” Mom says, pulling me into a hug. She smells like coconuts and sunscreen and Chanel N°5. She leans back, giving my shoulders a quick squeeze. “I’m so glad you came. Come sit by the pool. I made mimosas, and I can’t wait to tell you all about my trip.”
“Did you just saypool?” I ask. Because last I checked, my mom did not have a pool in her backyard.
“Yes! Did I forget to mention it? It was installed while I was on the cruise.” She sashays through her kitchen, stopping at the double French doors that used to lead to a fairly boring backyard. Grass. A few trees. A concrete patio. I did more than one design for her while I was in school, but mom never seemed all that concerned about improving the space. Maybe I should have included a pool.
“Aren’t pools expensive?” I ask. By nature, my mother has always been a little more “live in the moment” than “save for a rainy day,” but after Charles cleaned her out, she’s been much more frugal, so splurging on a pool feels way out of character, even for her.
“A hundred and twenty grand for this one,” she says, “because of the water feature and the fire bowls.”
I step up beside her and look through the glass patio door. The backyard is completely different. And it’sstunning.Concrete decking, a gorgeous pool with a fountain situated at the far end, flanked by stone pillars holding bronze fire bowls. The landscaping lining the edge of the pool space is intentional and tasteful, as pretty as anything I would have designed myself.
“Mom, it’s incredible,” I say. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this was happening.”
“It was all rather sudden,” she says. “Pierre got a whim and thought it would be fun if the entire project happened while we were on our cruise.” She slides open the door, flashing me a dazzling smile. “Come see. It’s so much more gorgeous than I thought it would be.”
