It’s Just Business

“Ifeel so… fancy,” Mom says, giddy, as she steps out of her room and double checks the door. Tucking her keycard into her purse, she looks up and down the heavily carpeted hallway, almost swooning at the luxury surrounding her. “How did you make this happen, sweetheart?”

We’ve been over this, both last night when I met her at the train and detoured us to the hotel, where I helped her get checked in, and again, this morning over our room service breakfast. But she’s not letting it go that easily.

“I told you,” I reply, my heart swelling in my chest at seeing my mom’s happiness. “My new job gave me a bonus.”

“A bonus?” Mom asks, and I nod. “Already?”

I should’ve known the little white lie wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her curiosity. I hate to let it snowball, but I can’t exactly go back now and tell her my new boss paid for the room. That’d be even worse. “When you make the company six figures in profit in the first week you’re there, they’re grateful,” I reply, thankful that’s the truth, at least. We turn and start down the hallway toward the elevator. “The timing was perfect. I got the bonus, and then you texted me. Seemed sort of karmic to use some of it on treating you. I’m sorry Dad couldn’t make it.”

“Well, you know your father,” Mom says as we reach the elevator and she pushes the down button. “He’s not exactly Mr. Spontaneity, so he was all too willing to stay home with Mark.”

I have to agree. I love my Dad, and he taught me a lot about hard work and preparation, qualities I’ve put into my work. But he’s about as predictable as the sunrise and sunset. So, an unplanned trip down to the city, even to see me? Well, that just doesn’t fit in his schedule for life. And with him and my brother at home, they’re probably ordering take-out, holing up in their respective rooms, and nerding out in their own ways—Dad, with bowling on TV, and Mark, with his computers.

But Mom loves the opportunity to get out and experience life in the city. She’s wearing one of her best dresses, there’s a smile on her lipstick-pink lips, and she has a sparkle in her eyes. She’s ready to tackle the evening and whatever may come.

I’m more than grateful for my mom and for the fact that we’re able to spend some girl time together.

The elevator comes, and we step inside. “Mom?” She looks over at me, and I feel a little choked up, how much I’ve missed her hitting me unexpectedly. “I just wanted to say thanks for coming,” I tell her honestly. “I know you’ve been worried about me.”

Mom chuckles and takes my hand. “You’re always going to be my little girl, sweetheart, so I’m always going to worry about you. That doesn’t mean I don’t have faith in you, but even when you get enough money to buy whatever you want, I’ll worry.”

‘So this’ll never end?” I tease, hoping it doesn’t.

“Well, if you ever want to buy your parents a motorhome for our retirement, I wouldn’t say boo.”

I laugh. “Tell you what. If I can ever afford it, and Dad agrees to actually use it and not just let it sit in the driveway, we’ll talk.”

The elevator dings again, and we come out into the lobby of the Hotel London. Why London? I have no clue. But the hotel’s nice, and the room is definitely bigger than my apartment.

Dylan went above and beyond, and silently, I thank him. Some people might think he’s sugar daddying me, but I know the truth of Dylan. He did it because that’s who he is. He’d do the same for his few friends as well. If anything, he’s been too generous with me, because if the Hotel London is three-star, I’ll eat a big ol’ bowl of lima beans. Frozen.

I just wish I knew what caused such a big heart to become walled off and so hard to most of the world. Even as I waited for Mom to finish getting ready for dinner tonight, my thoughts turn to him. I miss him, and seeing the joy he’s brought to my mother, even without her knowledge, is something I want to return to him as soon as I can.

But tonight is about Mom, and as the elevator doors open and we cross the lobby, I get to give her a little of her own medicine.

‘Surprise!” the two women say in unison.

“Maggie! Melinda! What are you doing here?” Mom says, looking from them to me and then greeting them each with a hug.

Melinda answers quickest. “Raven told Maggie you were coming down as a surprise, so we did a little sneaky girls’ trip planning too. I hope it’s okay we invited ourselves to your dinner, Dianne?” She gives Mom a warm look, truly okay if Mom says she’d rather it be just the two of us.

But Mom loves Maggie, treating her like a second daughter, and Melinda is basically her partner in crime, if the crime is shopping a little too often and having a Cosmo or two too many. Melinda is more a Nordstrom’s and Barney’s type, and Mom is strictly TJMaxx, but somehow, they get along well with the common denominator of their daughters being friends.

“Of course you’re welcome. The more, the merrier,” Mom tells them. “I’m excited to see you too.”

“Have you had fun?” Maggie asks Mom.

Mom sighs in bliss. “Oh, my goodness, yes. We had room service and went to the park this morning. Then, this afternoon, Raven took me to get this massage where you’re floating in water. What was that called again?”

“Watsu massage,” I reply, exchanging looks with Maggie, who gives me a little smile. She spotted me that one, giving me a coupon she’d gotten from the last time she went to her favorite salon. “And you had fun, admit it.” Mom had serious doubts about that, saying it was going to feel like a weird swimming lesson, but afterward, she’d been wigglier than a bowl full of Jell-O.

‘I did,” she agrees with a laugh.

“Good. I would love to hear more about it over dinner,” Melinda says, reminding us that we should go if we want to make our reservations.

We’re going to a steakhouse in the theater district I know Mom will enjoy. It’s likely she’ll try to pay, especially when she thinks I paid for the hotel, but I don’t want her to do that. I’d love to be able to treat her to a nice meal while she’s in town. Unfortunately, I haven’t actually received my first paycheck yet, so Maggie offered to spot me and I promised to pay her back as soon as I get paid. In the end, Melinda will probably snatch the check and it will be a moot point, but I’m glad to have a plan in place regardless since my funds are running lower than they ever have before.

We take a taxi to the restaurant, and Mom and Melinda chat the whole way, rehashing the latest season of a Housewives show they both watch before switching gears to swap dessert recipes. I can’t help but crack up a bit as Melinda calls one of Mom’s classic poke cakes a ‘brilliant idea’. Delicious? Yes, absolutely. Brilliant? I’m not sure about that, but Mom’s beaming so I’m not gonna pop her bubble.

“Do you all come here a lot?” Mom asks as she sits down at our table.

“I think I’ve been here with John before,” Melinda says, mentioning Maggie’s dad, who stayed home to give us a ‘girls’ night on the town’. She looks around and confides, “Probably for some boring business meeting he had. These days, I don’t have to go to many of those dreadful things. Times change, and meetings are in coffee shops and tea houses more often than over white tablecloths.” She looks pleased at that, then laughs as she shares a story. “Oh, my goodness, he went to a meeting the other day, and they gave him boba tea!” she tells us. “He said that when he took a drink, he thought he’d swallowed a crown and nearly choked himself trying to get it back up, only for it to pop in his mouth. Suffice it to say, he was not a fan.”

She and mom laugh in full agreement with Mr. Levine’s assessment while Maggie and I share a look because we like boba tea.

A waitress comes over, taking our drink orders and telling us the evening’s specials, and when she gives us a moment with the menu, as I expected, Melinda tells us, “Dinner’s on me this evening, ladies. No arguments, it’s my pleasure.”

Maggie doesn’t say a word, knowing it’s futile, and I stay quiet, grateful for the gift. But Mom, who grew up with a lot of pride in self-sufficiency because of Gramma’s financial situation, opens her mouth, but then closes it and nods. “Okay. But you will be getting on my jelly and cookie list.”

“Jelly and cookie list?” Melinda repeats, and Maggie grins. “You know about this, Maggie?”

“You’re in for a treat,” Maggie says. “Mama Hill makes the most amazing plum and apricot jellies that she sends to Raven, and the Christmas cookies? They’re worth the New Year’s Resolution, I promise you.”

“We keep saying that we’re going to share them out with Ami, but other than her snagging a few if she comes over around the time the box arrives, we demolish the whole thing,” I admit, and Mom preens a little. “I hope that I can get that good someday.”

“First, you’ve got to have a kitchen capable of real cooking,” Mom points out, and Maggie and I laugh. “Raven, seriously. I’ve seen college dorm rooms with better kitchens than what you have. How you cook anything in that apartment is beyond me.”

“It does take a special kind of organization,” Melinda says with a fond smile. “Dianne, I remember my first big city kitchen, too. It was a single eye hotplate that plugged into the wall, and a microwave. Trust me, I got very good at one skillet meals. And microwave noodles.”

“Let’s order before my appetite disappears,” Maggie says, catching the waitress’s eye. “Raven keeps making these chili lime shrimp Cup Noodles that smell like death.”

“Hey!” I argue. “Those are delicious.”

Maggie eyes me comically.

The waitress returns, setting our drinks down, and we place our orders, keeping it relatively simple with a mix of beef wellington, pork chops, and two different chicken dishes. Apparently, we’re sampling the menu tonight.

Maggie holds her glass up, clearing her throat. “To good moms, better daughters, great surprises, and new jobs!”

We clink our glasses together, toasting the evening and thankful we get to spend it together.

“Yes, tell me about your new job, Raven,” Melinda says excitedly.

I give them a general rundown, keeping some of the not-so-appropriate bits to myself and focusing on the investing. “I’m learning a lot and enjoying every minute of it,” I say, and Maggie nearly chokes on her wine. She’s got to stop doing that, I think, flashing her a warning smile. She arches a brow as if to say, ‘really?’

“I’ll be honest, I don’t quite understand all the details of what you’re doing,” Mom says. “But I’m proud of you.” I swear, tears are springing up in the corners of her eyes. “When you were so driven by that little investment game back in school, I thought it was cute. You’d talk in all these acronyms I didn’t understand. But it was interesting to you, and that’s all that mattered. I certainly didn’t think it’d become this. Now I see I was wrong.”

“These kids will grow up and surprise you, won’t they?” Melinda tells mom, agreeing with her sentiment. “Maggie used to wrap up in curtains and say she was a bride, then it became a model, and finally, she started cutting my good sheets up and hand-stitching them into dresses and blouses. I nearly came unglued the first time I found strips of my favorite Sir La Table tablecloth strewn about the floor.”

Mom gasps. “The first time?”

Melinda pins her with a look. “It happened so many times, I finally had to lock the linen closet and get her a line of credit at the fabric store. Sounds ridiculous, but I think that saved me thousands of dollars over the years. And now she’s on the marketing side of fashion. I never would’ve expected that, but I’m sure Raven’s glad Maggie’s not swiping the bathroom towels to use as ‘accessories’ these days.”

I grin behind my glass, glad that Maggie’s getting a bit of a smackdown instead of me this time.

“What about your son, Mark, right?” Melinda asks Mom.

She waves her hand. “Oh, you should see that boy. He’s a foot taller than me. And you’d be shocked at how much time he spends in the garage, all sorts of little wires and doodads organized at his workstation in little boxes. Sometimes, it seems that he’s just swapping parts around from one box to another, and sometimes, he’s bent over a circuit board with his soldering gun for hours. I don’t get it, but he’s enjoying it. He’s even getting an organization started, getting some of his classmates and friends to go out looking for these broken computers for him to fix and give away to families in need.”

“Sounds like there will be a lot of families who are going to owe Mark a big thanks when it’s all said and done,” Melinda says. “Just think, all the students who’ll have the tools to follow their dreams.”

“Yeah, we’re all pretty great,” Maggie says and the moms give her a double dose of Mom-glare. She flinches dramatically. “What? You were singing our praises a minute ago, and now I’m supposed to be all humble and modest?”

“Alright, missy. If we’re done talking about both of your meteoric rise to success in your fields, how about you spill the beans on the dating scene in the city?”

Maggie pales. “Spill the beans? Nobody says that anymore, Mom.” Melinda’s gaze holds steady, and Maggie tries another track. “The dating scene? Why? Are you leaving Dad?” Melinda and John Levine are solid as can be, and Maggie’s completely kidding. With a desperate side of deflection.

“Ooh, yes. Do tell,” Mom says eagerly, turning her attention to me. “Maggie told me about Evan last we talked… Do you want to talk about it?”

“Thanks for this,” I deadpan, promising Maggie with my eyes that I will absolutely take the last cup of coffee and not start a fresh pot next week as payback for her getting both mothers on our cases.

“Nothing really to tell right now,” I answer.

Of course, she doesn’t have any big news on the dating front. I do, but I’m not sharing that with Mom. In some ways, I’d like to. I think she’d be horrified that Dylan is my boss, but I think she’d actually like Dylan himself if she got to know him the way I do. But the risks outweigh the rewards of spilling, so I stay tight-lipped about it for now.

“I’m keeping my focus on work,” I tell Mom, which is basically the truth. Or close to it. I mean, Dylan is kinda part of work… except when he’s not.

Thankfully, our food comes a few minutes later and we get lost in talking about how delicious it is, trying each other’s entrees. Mom in particular never sniffs around my social life again during dinner, and after the meal is done, we step out into the chilly night air.

‘I’m heading home tonight, so I’d best be going,” Melinda says, giving us each a hug. “It was so good to see you, and thanks again for letting me invade your mother-daughter dinner,” she tells Mom.

“Anytime,” Mom says. “Great to see you too.” We watch as Melinda hails a taxi, climbs in, and disappears into the night. Mom turns to me. “My train leaves bright and early in the morning, so I’m probably going to crash, if that’s okay?”

“Sure, Mom. I’ll come back to the hotel with you,” I offer, but she waves me off.

“No, you two go out and have fun. I know it’s still early for you city folks.” She winks as though she’s in on our secret of being up-all-night party animals, which neither of us is.

But…This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“If you’re sure, Mom. I don’t mind crashing into bed and taking you to the train station early in the morning,” I try again, just so I can say I made a fair effort even though I’m hoping she doesn’t want me to go with her.

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you, Raven?” She tilts her head, her lips pursed. I blink, not sure what she’s talking about. She sighs. “There is a big, fluffy bed in that hotel room with my name on it. One I don’t have to share, where I can’t hear anyone snoring, and where I can sleep totally naked if I have a middle of the night hot flash and nobody will care. So leave me to it, sweetheart, and go have your fun.”

My jaw drops open in surprise and then I laugh. “Well, okay, then. Good night, Mom. Call me when you get home tomorrow so I know you’re safe.”

She gives me a wry look. “That’s my line. Except do not call me tonight when you get home. I will be blissfully sleeping.’ I hold up a hand, not wanting to hear any more about her nude sleeping plans, and she chuckles. “You just wait. One day, you’ll know what I’m talking about. A big bed all to yourself is a gift and I’m not wasting it.”

“I’m sure Dad would love to hear that,” I deadpan, and Mom laughs.

“You think he doesn’t know, and wouldn’t do the same thing? I’m the one dealing with the hot flashes. He’s the one dealing with me.” With that, we say our goodbyes and I put Mom into a taxi headed for the hotel. She smiles, waving as they pull away.

“You coming home then, or…?” Maggie asks, raising a brow.

I twist my lips, thinking, and then sigh. “Yeah, I don’t want to do the late night ‘you up?’ text thing, you know?” Honestly, I do want to do that. But I’m not sure I should.

She links her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s spoil ourselves then and get a taxi too. My treat.”

“You’re the best,” I say, laying my head on her shoulder. “This almost makes up for your getting our moms on our cases about our dating life.”

Maggie huffs out a dry laugh. “Whatever, you love me.”

I nod because she’s right, I do love her. I especially love that she doesn’t give me a single bit of shit as I pull out my phone the second we’re sitting in the taxi and doesn’t say a word as I text Dylan even though I literally just said I wasn’t going to do that.