Page 9 of Just Friends
“There’s no shame in that,” Momma insisted. “You’ve become such an amazing young woman, Piper. You’re beautiful and funny and confident and outgoing and successful,too. And we’re all so, so proud of you.”
I frowned, touched, whether I wanted to be or not. “Aw, Momma.”
“So no,” she said, “as much I want you back home? I won’t let you move back here until you’ve done whatever it is you need to accomplish out there.”
“Alright, alright,” I muttered.
“Besides,” she added, “with your condition, I’m not sure you’re cut out for farm life anymore.”
“Hey, what the heck!” I yelled, offended—and after she’d given me such a nice compliment, too! “Thanks alot,Mom!”
“Oh, honey, you know I don’t mean that as an insult. I only say it because I know how hardworking you are. You’d work yourself right into the ground if you could.”
I murmured, “Well, I’m still doing that, anyway.”
“I’ll bet,” she said, a mother’s pain in her eyes. “I worry about you, Piper.”
I sighed. “I’m fine, Momma, really.”
“I just hope you can find a good man who can pick you up when you’re down and take care of you. And let’s face it,” she said, pursing her lips, “these days, the odds of finding a man like that out here in the country aren’t great.”
“Fine.” I grumbled. “Just let me know if I can help out with anything, okay? BecauseIworry about you guys, too.”
“Sure, sure,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. I knew even if theydidneed the money, she’d never say a word to me.
“Hey, Momma, I gotta go, but can you put Paulina on again?”
We said our byes and exchanged I-love-yous, and the phone changed hands again.
“Listen,” I said, once I was sure Paulina was out of the greenhouse, “if you guys needanymoney, you let me know, okay?”
“Sure, I guess,” Paulina said with a shrug. “But I don’t know what the money’s like. Mom and Dad handle all the financial stuff.”
“Ugh,” I griped, “I wish I could buy the Bowers off that land.”
“Can’t you?” she asked. “Aren’t you like, a mega-millionaire now?”
I chuffed. “Not even close, Paulie. Isthatwhat Momma’s been telling people about me?”
“No, she mainly talks about how you owned a bakery in NYC—”
“Co-owned.”
“—and how it got so big you sold it, and now you live in Texas with a pro hockey player and stuff. People are really impressed by all that, too.”
I tried not to cringe. I know parents love to brag about their kids, butgah, it can be embarrassing.
“Anyway, Paulie,” I said, putting the conversation back on its rails, “the point is, I’ve got enough money saved that I can help you guys out if times get tough, okay?”
“You’re so cool, Pip,” my little sister said, gushing with a gawky smile.
“I don’t feelcool.”
“Well, Ithink you are,” she said. “I mean, you went from living on a farm to being friends with freakin’ professional athletes. It’s just so crazy.”
“Oh, speaking of,” I said with a snap of my finger, “I need to send you a new hat. We’re Dallas Devils fans now, Paulie.”
“Would you?!” she squealed. She pulled off her Blizzard hat and inspected it: the burgundy-and-blue had faded, tattered threads hung from the worn-out bill, and a ring of salt encircled the crown. “I love this hat, but it’s definitely seen better days.”
