Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
“Yeah. Sure, I could come to you.”
“But I want you to know that I’m not after your money,” she says adamantly. “If that’s what I wanted, I would have come around years ago, when I was a hair’s breadth away from living on the street.”
“I never thought that,” I say. “And I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t expect you to have some kind of motherly feeling for me.”
“That’s good. I’m not the nurturing type. But could I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Was Marjorie Steel the nurturing type?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. The thought of anyone even questioning my mother’s mothering is…well…laughable.
“She was,” I say, “and then some. Still is, to be honest.”
“And you love her?”
“I do. Very much. She and Dad both. They were excellent parents. You told me before that you did what you thought was best for both of us. I don’t know if it was best for you, but it was certainly best for me. And I thank you for it.”
She pauses a moment. Do I hear a sniffle?
Finally, she says, “You’re welcome, sugar. I sure never expected anyone to thank me for anything. You might be the first person who ever has. I guess this old bird finally did something right.”
“I’m sure you’ve done a lot of things right.”
“I’m sure I haven’t, but it’s kind of you to say it.”
I’m sure, in that moment.
I was pretty sure before, but now I know I’m going to set Frankie Stokes up for the rest of her life. If she wants to continue living with her Golden Girls, fine. But if she doesn’t? It’s the best condo in Palm Springs for her, a new car, and whatever the hell else she wants. Either way, she’ll have my support until her dying breath.
Because she did two things right.
She gave birth to me.
And she let me go.
“Tell you what,” I say. “I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”
“A girl?”
“Well, yeah. That’s part of it.”
“You need to go see about a girl,” she says.
I laugh. “Did you by chance watch Good Will Hunting recently?”
“Just last night, with Beverly Jo and Gladys. Felice had plans. She’s dating this geezer from a nearby retirement home.”
“Are they your roommates?”
“No, my cats.”
“Oh?”
She laughs raucously. “Of course they’re my roommates. You don’t think I’m some old cat lady, do you, sugar?”
I join her in laughter.
Her sense of humor is kind of like mine. Except mine’s been on hiatus since Ralph.
Maybe it’s time for it to make a comeback.
Maybe it’s time for a lot of things to make a comeback.
“Listen, Henry,” she says. “You go see about your girl. But as soon as you can find the time, I really would like to see you. I’ll even dig out that old bronze baby shoe for you if you want.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Nah, it is. For me. I want to see it again. I may have missed out on your childhood, but maybe it’s not too late. Maybe you’ll let me know my grandchildren.”
“I—”
“No pressure, of course. Whatever you say goes. Like I said, you don’t owe me anything.”
“I know I don’t. But I do look forward to meeting you. I’m going to go see about that girl, and then the two of us together will pay you a visit. How about that?”
“Sounds perfect, sugar. Good night.”
“Good night, Franc— Frankie.”
Forty-One
Tabitha
Ugh. Fine. I’ll go.
I’ve been mulling it over for the last fifteen minutes. Henry’s phone call threw me. But at least now I know that Francine isn’t some other woman. I mean, I was pretty sure she wasn’t, but logic doesn’t always reign supreme where jealousy is concerned.
Of course, I’m about to go out on a date myself.
Not a date. A drink. A thank-you to the man who saved my life. A man who I’ll hopefully never see again after tonight.
I’m not going to flake. I’m not a person who flakes.
I’ll still head over early to grab that extra drink, though. It’s about to get dark, and I know better than ever before not to walk around in the dark. I’ll have Lance walk me back to my place after we finish up. Hopefully it’ll be an early night.
I slowly rise off the couch, check my hair and my makeup in my hallway mirror. I’m not looking my best after a ninety-minute drive, but I look presentable. I’m not exactly trying to entice Lance anyway.
I walk over to Caesar’s and choose a stool in the corner, far away from anyone else.
The bartender approaches me. She’s pretty, with medium-length curly blond hair. Probably a student at CU who’s bartending to make some extra cash.
“What can I get for you, hon?” she asks.
Hon? I almost laugh at that. She doesn’t look much older than me.
I glance at the menu. “Just a white wine, please.”
“Chardonnay or sauv blanc?”
I shrug. “What do you recommend?”