Glimmers (31 page)

Delilah is wearing the oddest expression of confusion, and Hailey has her hand on her face, shaking her head.

“Yes, we married some time ago. Let’s see, it’s been about fifteen years now. Only, we met quiet some time before that,” Delilah offers with a gleam in her eyes.

“You met while you worked at The Greenbrier Resort!” I say excitedly.

“Yes, we did. It started off as a summer romance. Thank goodness, he found me a few years later and swept me off my feet. In fact, he was instrumental in my opening up the first restaurant. He encouraged me to do it, he even drew up the designs,” she says, smiling sweetly.

“He became an architect?” I ask, realizing I should settle down, only I can’t control myself.

“Yes, he is an architect. How do you know so much about us?” she asks suspiciously.

Hailey quickly interjects, “Oh, you know, Julian can’t stop talking about Mr. B, you, and the restaurant.”

“Is Mr. B here tonight?” I ask anxiously.

“Not yet, but he will be. He had to drive in from Palm Beach tonight. He had an important meeting he just couldn’t miss,” Delilah offers.

Hailey exclaims over-eagerly, “I can’t wait to finally meet him in person! I love his designs. I studied some of them in college!”

“Well darlin’, I’ll most certainly introduce you to him when he arrives. If you’ll excuse me, I have to make sure the kitchen hasn’t burned down to the ground yet,” Delilah says and heads across the restaurant.

Hailey and I are left staring at each other. Simultaneously we burst out in laughter. Elliott and Julian peer over and see us keeling over, clenching our stomachs.

“See what I mean? These two are tough to read, and their mother—forget it,” Elliott offers, and I swat his arm. “What?”

“You love me and you know it,” I say playfully.

Elliott inches closer and softly touches his lips to mine. “I love everything about you, Paige. Even the nutty parts,” he says sweetly (I think). “I saw you talking with Delilah. How’d it go?”

“It was fine. I may have appeared a little clairvoyant though. Hailey helped me out a bit,” I offer.

Hailey interrupts, “A bit? If you had continued rambling nonsense to Mrs. B, she would have thought you were a stalker or something.”

“That I’m a stalker? What about your obsessive need to meet her architect husband?” I shoot back.

“You’re right. She probably thinks we’re both completely mad,” Hailey says, rubbing her hand on the side of her cheek.

“I can’t imagine either one of you could possibly say anything that bad. I’m sure she adores you both,” Julian says, sliding his arm around Hailey’s back and squeezing her closer to him.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Elliott mumbles, barely holding back a chuckle.

“You think you are so funny, don’t you,” I say and narrow my eyes.

“Hailey, here’s your chance to meet William for yourself,” Julian says, peering behind me.

Swiftly, Hailey, Elliott, and I search for William. I don’t see him yet. Where is he? All of a sudden, I realize a very illustrious looking man is approaching.

“Julian, there you are. I was just in the kitchen greeting my lovely wife. She mentioned you were over here,” William says, shaking Julian’s hand.

When Julian introduces William to Hailey, she beams from ear-to-ear. William’s features are just as striking as I remember; his dark hair has begun to grey, making him look even more distinguished. In a way, he resembles his father. I wonder what ever happened to his parents. How does Delilah get along with his ice-queen mother? I’m just dying to ask, but decide to keep my mouth shut.

“Paige, Elliott, this is William Berringer, part owner and architect,” Julian says and turns to William. “Paige is Hailey’s sister.”

“It’s great to meet you both. I just heard the good news about Hailey accepting Julian’s proposal. I suppose that makes us practically family,” William offers.

Did he just say family? Heat rushes to my head. I’m dizzy. The thought of sitting across the Thanksgiving table from him and Delilah is overwhelming. Thank goodness Elliott is now chatting with Mr. Berringer, I mean William.

After a few minutes of listening to Elliott and William’s conversation, I begin to feel confident enough to join in. Actually, it’s as if I’ve known William for years (in a way, I suppose I have). It’s strange to see how William and Delilah have aged. I remember them as teens. Today, they are only a about ten years older than I am. I wonder if we could be friends. What do we have in common? I know Delilah likes to cook, as do I. Maybe Elliott and I could have a dinner party and invite them over. Maybe they have kids. Our kids could play together. That would be so sweet.

I’m imagining all of the good times we’ll have together, when I notice Elliott is staring at me. He winks playfully then returns back to his conversation with William.

I shift my attention away long enough to take in the surrounding atmosphere. The quartet is playing a sweet melody. I am surrounded by people sipping their cocktails, their voices rising and falling spontaneously. Elliott and Julian are laughing about something or another. My sister is explaining to William an idea she has for one of her new clients. He is staring thoughtfully at the floor, with his hand resting on his chin. I’ve seen him do that before, he must be interested in her ideas.

A loud sigh of contentment escapes from my mouth and a smile plasters my face. All of a sudden, I feel a hand rest carefully on my shoulder. I glance to my right and see Delilah looking ahead at the group.

“I hope you aren’t sighing from boredom,” she says.

“No, I’m enjoying this moment more than you’ll ever know,” I say and lift my glass to offer her a toast. “Here’s to following your heart, doing what you love, and overflowing with success.”

“I’ll definitely drink to that!” she says excitedly and our glasses meet.

“Mom, can we take Maggie to Magic Kingdom, please?” Liam asks, joining me in our kitchen.

“Sure. Elle and I would really enjoy that,” I respond, flipping over a grilled cheese sandwich and appreciating the golden surface of the buttered bread.

“You know, maybe you guys could go to a different park. How about Animal Kingdom?” he offers hopefully, raising his eyebrows up and down.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll stay far away from you little love birds. Besides, don’t you think you’re a little too young to go on dates?”

“Mom, Maggie and I are just friends! And don’t you remember that I just turned eight?”

“Sorry, I forgot,” I say while stirring a pinch of oregano into the tomato bisque. “Make sure Maggie asks her mom if it’s okay.”

He nods his head in agreement and walks away, punching numbers into the phone.

Thank goodness for theme parks. Since we have annual passes, much of our summer vacation will be spent there. Before the kids were finished with the school year, I filled my calendar with fun activities for us to do. Most of my brilliant ideas are working out great; however, I had to scratch ‘Mom’s Art Projects’ after a little incident involving some handmade play dough. I may have many new talents, but arts and crafts are not one of them.

My children’s laughter comes at me from all directions of my house, and I'll miss it when they're at camp next week. At least there, they’ll be challenged creatively, unlike with me, where I’m just creatively challenged. I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself while they’re away. I’ll probably use that time to catch up around the house. Oh who am I kidding, I’ll waste away in front of the computer shopping on eBay.

Last week, I bid on a gorgeous Marc Jacobs bag. I watched my computer screen eagerly, waiting to see if the bag would be mine. In the end, I am delighted to say I reigned victorious!

“Liam just said we’re going to Disney!” Elle exclaims, bounding into the kitchen, wearing her new homemade fairy outfit.

“It looks that way,” I pause and watch as the tulle of her dress swishes. “How do you like your new costume?”

“I love it! Thanks, Mom. Can you make me another one? Maybe in white, I can be a snow fairy,” she says, waving her wand.

“Sure, maybe we can stop by the fabric store tomorrow.”

“That would be great! I want sparkly glitter on it, too,” she says and dances out of the room.

“Elle, please change into something more comfortable, before we leave!” I holler in her direction, but with her selective hearing, I doubt she will.

I watch as she leaves, still admiring my handiwork. I’m pretty good at this sewing thing. Who knew? I surely had no idea I could make anything look that good. Strange, I have been doing a lot of things better lately.

Maybe I've gotten my new flair for cooking and sewing through my glimmers. Maybe they unleashed a hidden potential from deep within me. I can’t believe I didn’t realize this before! Now I
really
want to have another glimmer. I’d love to learn how to paint, or play an instrument, or fly a plane! If only I could find just the right object to help me leap into the life of a musician. I should buy a used piano! Maybe if I touch just the right key, I could have another glimmer! It would be so cool to find myself playing a concerto in front of an adoring crowd.

I may not have a piano or an airplane handy, but I know I have a paintbrush somewhere.

“There you are,” I say to the fuzzy little tool.

All right, bring on another glimmer. I pull out some paints and paper. I’m going to paint like Picasso . . . . All right, this looks more like preschool art. This is ridiculous. I begin to rinse off the bristles, feeling a little silly. Even with the help of having a glimmer, I doubt I could ever learn how to paint
or
play an instrument. It’s absurd to think I’ve gained a talent through having a glimmer. I could cook and sew all along; I must have just chosen not to until now.

Suddenly, I hear our doorbell ring. I make my way to the front of the house and peer through the window. It’s our mailman. He’s holding a package and some envelopes. A little thrill passes through me. I swing open the door and stare eagerly at the brown parcel.

“Here you are. I just need you to sign this for me,” he says.

“Thank you for saving me a trip to the mailbox,” I say and smile widely.

“No problem. Have a nice day,” he says and returns to his vehicle.

Anxiously, I rush to the kitchen and set down the mail. I tear open the package, lean against the counter, and admire my new bag. Its black leather appears buttery soft. There are vertical zippers at the sides and the handle at the top is adorable.

My hands can’t remain at my sides any longer. I reach over and grab the bag off the counter. They run over the surface and slowly pull open the magnetic-snap closure, exposing the inside. I peer down and rummage around. Inside a pocket, I feel a little card. After removing it, I read its contents. The name on it says Chloe . . . there's a phone number and email address, but there isn’t a last name. I suppose this person doesn’t need one. Maybe she’s a pop star, like Prince or Madonna.

All of a sudden, the bag looks clearer. I stare at the little leather wormhole. Come on, come on. All right, this is it! At last, I’m having another glimmer! My eyes begin to water, but I don’t dare blink. After what seems like five minutes, I look around and sigh in disappointment. Nothing has changed.

“Oh well, maybe later,” I mutter and shrug my shoulders.

I set down the bag and shift through the pile of mail. An oversized envelope pops out onto the counter. I recognize the golden handwriting. It’s Hailey’s. I rip open the envelope and stare at the contents. Scrolling letters in glistening gold announce the upcoming wedding between my sister and Julian.

Finally, as Hailey often says, she is doing what is sensible. I look forward to the big day. This time around, she is actively participating in the plans. The only concern I have is all of the items she wants to borrow of mine. In fact, just the other day, she asked if she could use Emma’s cameo earrings. Now, I don’t have a problem with her wearing the earrings. It’s all of the other things she wants to borrow, but that is another story all together.