Page 28 of The Sweet Part
“Yes! I had silver-dollar pancakes with whipped cream, and I got a fairy puzzle with thirty-two pieces. It says for seven and up, but Grandmom says I’m smart enough to figure it out.” She sheds her coat and hat, dropping them on the floor.
Mom gestures to the lower hooks on the wall with a stern look. Sophie puts her coat and hat on the hooks without complaint. Mom’s a retired third grade teacher, but she’s still got the magic touch.
I smile at my parents, a study in contrasts. Mom’s blond with blue eyes and an optimist. Dad has caramel brown hair with hazel eyes, and he’s a pragmatist. I took more after him in looks. I consider myself a cautious optimist. “Thanks for the puzzle. Great winter activity.” I look down at Sophie. “Did you say thank you to Grandmom and Grandpop?”
“Ye-e-es,” she says dramatically. All that’s missing is the eye roll for a peek at teenage Sophie.
I was fortunate to grow up with two loving parents who supported me and Alice in all things, even when Alice went through her Buddhist monk phase and took a vow of silence. We were fourteen and had just learned about monks in school. Anyway, the only person she was silent in front of were Mom and Dad. She talked at school and whispered to me in our shared bedroom. Through the whole thing, Mom and Dad made sealed-lips gestures, knowing nods, and smiles when she didn’t answer a question. They communicated with her by note. I hope I can be that patient when Sophie’s a teen.
Mom hands Sophie the puzzle, folding the plastic bag from the store into neat squares.
Dad holds his hand out to Sophie. “Here, I’ll help you open it.”
She hands him the puzzle, and he pulls out his ever-present multiuse pocketknife from his pocket and breaks the seal along the edges.
Sophie grabs it. “Thanks, Grandpop!” She runs into the living room.
Dad follows. “I’ll help you open the bag of pieces.”
“Okay! But I’m doing the puzzle all by myself.”
“You got it, Sophie the Great.”
She giggles.
Mom turns to me, saying in a low voice, “All she could talk about was Mason the Great. He can fix anything; he’s a TV star; he loves Mommy. How come this is the first time I’m hearing about him?”
I sigh. Sophie’s hoping for something that won’t happen. I’ll have a talk with her after my parents leave.
I meet Mom’s eyes. “Because there was nothing to say. He fixed some stuff around here. I know Sophie might want there to be more to the story, but Mason and I are just friends.”
“Sophie says you went to a wedding with him, he stayed for dinner three times, and you’re going to seeHot Finds.”
“Where they filmHot Finds,” I correct. “And, yes, I fed him dinner as a thank you for the free repairs. And the wedding was a spur-of-the-moment thing because Sophie wanted to dance and have cake.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “That sounds like more than friends. All this happened in a week. It sounds like the start of something.” She points at me. “Oh, and Sophie said he could tell you and Alice apart when you wore the same black dress. He passed the test.”
I close my eyes for a moment. Isn’t Sophie just a fire hose of information? I need to be careful what she’s privy to.
Dad walks over, smiling. “She sure likes that puzzle.”
Mom turns to him. “May says she and Mason are just friends, but they’re seeing each other an awful lot.”
“If May says they’re just friends, I believe her,” Dad says. “May, didn’t you say after things didn’t work out with Oliver the Cheater last year, you would never date again?”
“Yes. At least, not until Sophie’s in college.”
He smiles, looking pleased. “See, Liz, nothing to worry about.”
Mom clenches her teeth. “I’mnotworried, Ryan.” She turns to me with a bright smile. “I want to meet him. Invite him over for dinner at our house next Sunday.”
Danger! Mama-bear alert!Mom won’t hesitate to ask Mason all the hard questions: What are your intentions? Are you the kind who loves them and leaves them? May is very special, blah, blah, blah. Embarrassing but true. She means well. I’m sure I’ll be much more chill when Sophie starts dating. My heart lurches. Sophie dating? Staying out at all hours? Not knowing where she is? No, no, no. Plenty of time before the teenaged years.
I glance at Dad, who grimaces. He won’t contradict Mom, but he sees as clearly as I do that inviting Mason to meet them for a family dinner is aridiculousidea.
“I’ll make a roast,” Mom says.
“Mom, no. I’m not inviting him to dinner.”
