How to Bake the Perfect Apple Pie (20 page)

I hope to all things possible that they do not think I’m actually going to perform. Music is not my strong point. Sure I love listening to it and even singing in my car. But singing or playing a guitar in front of other people… I shudder. This will be a total disaster.

My mom’s face is beaming. I can see why my dad planned this for her. She must have left him some hints over the years about coming to a place like this. I slump my shoulders. I am not a performer… That gene was never passed down to me. It doesn’t seem like Megan or Luke are performers either… I’m not sure why I’m being roped into this ensemble. I want to take off my hat and pass it over to Wild Bill and meet the rest of my family inside. But, this would cause a distraction from the pure enjoyment my mom is obviously having. I can’t do that to her and definitely not on Mother’s Day. I’m sure I would be awarded with The Worst Daughter of the Year award if I did anything remotely like that. No, I’ll have to go through with this.

“All right, now here’s what’s going to happen: the two ladies are going to be singing the first lines along our glistening spring, of ‘Oh Clementine’
,
then the three of you kids will come onto the stage singing ‘Yellow Rose of Texas’.”

Kids? Technically I am a child to my mother, but I’ve got a good twenty years on Winter and River.

“Now, if you don’t know the lines just look at the flashy screens while you are on the stage. And really get into the show. The crowd is packed today, so make them feel at home.”

My eyes are bulging out. The crowd is packed? My heart sinks to the ground. I do not want to do this. But I know there is no going back. I only wish there was a bar en route to the stage and I could have a shot of something powerful to give me the liquid courage to make it through this or even enough to black out the memory of what will surely be a failure. I gulp.

We follow behind the cowboy through a hall and to what I assume is considered the backstage. Past the curtains is a packed crowd waiting for our performance. My chest is tight. Little beads of sweat form at my hairline. My hands begin to tingle. I sway from side to side. The room is closing in on me; everything is getting blurry.

“Oh boy, you look like a rattler got you. Here, take the antidote.” The cowboy offers me a flask and without hesitation I swallow it back—
all of it
.

“Whoosh, now, you’ve gone an’ emptied my special potion.” He shakes his head. “That’s all right, darling; you needed it more than me.”

He pushes me onto the stage. My mom and grandmother have made their way to a fountain that is built to re-create a creek and are belting out “Oh Clementine”. It’s almost as if they are having a competition for who can sing the loudest. I’m not sure. I cringe. It’s like a VH1 Divas performance of “Oh Clementine”. When they finish I shake my head and wander farther onto the stage.

Winter and River are shaking their maracas and I saunter along and ignore the crowd. Pretending they are in their underwear will not help me. It’s best if I can’t see them or focus on how many there are. I keep my eyes on the karaoke screens and strum on the guitar as I mosey across the stage. I meet Winter and River and we face each other as if this is something we do on the weekend. As if we gather in my parents’ backyard and I strum the guitar and they shake their maracas and we sing. My voice cracks as I take in the audience. There have to be at least a hundred people here.
Keep your focus on the screens.
We slide off the stage and weave through the crowd. I play the elusive role by not making contact with anyone while Winter and River make a big show of their maracas with different tables.

Finally the last line dances across the screen and I sing, “But the yellow rose of Texas is the only guy for me.”

My insides burn and it’s not from whatever is in Wild Bill’s special potion. I’m aching from missing Jack and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I said goodbye. Not goodbye. I didn’t end it. I said I couldn’t do long distance. Maybe he’ll realize what I need and change? Maybe he will make a grand gesture and show up outside my window with his iPhone and some cordless speakers? Or maybe he won’t. Maybe it is over. My insides crush together.

“Aunt Lauren, you didn’t sing the song right.” Winter is tugging on my hand.

“What?”

“You said ‘only guy for me’. It’s girl. I read it on the TV.”

I nod. “Wow, you can read that word? You’re so smart! And you’re right, Winter, I did mess up.” I swallow, but the deep lump in my throat doesn’t disappear.

Chapter Fifteen

“Okay, we’ve got our wine, now spill, and only words…no tears.” Brianna eyes the room. “At least not in public, okay?” She squeezes my hand.

I haven’t talked to Jack since Saturday. I made it through Sunday with no tears until my head hit my pillow in my own house. Monday was busy at work and my mind was distracted, which was a good thing. Except the distraction was trying to get Hallie’s numbers up. I’m disappointed to learn that I might have to shadow her phone calls.

I take in the room. Brianna chose Cellar Seventy-Seven as it’s our favorite wine bar. We are sitting at a high top, which is not my preferred seat, but it does force me not to slump into a caterpillar and wrap myself in a cocoon of sadness. In this position I have to sit upright and be aware of the height difference from my seat to the floor. It would be a hard fall and I’m already battered on the inside—no need to have bruises on my skin as well.

I drove straight over from work, so we could capitalize on the happy hour prices. Even though I’m not really in the mood to eat, I can appreciate the wine prices of half off on their house bottles, which are better than average. I remember when I was younger and underage and I would hear someone order the house wine, I thought this meant the best, like top-shelf liquor. I half laugh in my mind. I bet Jack would laugh as well. I swallow hard and glance at Brianna. Her eyes are full of concern and worry with a slight bit of impatience as I am sitting across from her in silence. I take a sip of my wine.

“We broke up.” I sigh.

Brianna jerks her head back. “What? Why?” She flutters her eyelashes.

“It’s a bunch of things but mainly he wouldn’t set a wedding date and I can’t keep living with this weird long-distance relationship. It hurts too much missing him all the time.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Besides the wedding date, what are the other reasons?” Brianna inspects my face.

“Well, for one, I feel like there is something there between him and his new office manager.” I take a sip of my wine.

“Why? Because she’s a woman?” Brianna flips her shiny dark locks over her shoulder and shakes her head at me.

“No, not just because she’s a woman or even the fact that she is gorgeous.” I swallow. “She said he’s dreamy and I lucked out. And she was always calling him over to her house to fix things, and I think that’s inappropriate.” I nod in agreement with myself.

“Okay, good point. Did you communicate your feelings about this with Jack?”

“Yes.” I rub my lips together.

“And? His response?”

I sigh. “He said he wouldn’t help her out anymore.”

“Great, so what’s the problem then?” She throws her hands up at me.

“Well, when I went to see my grandmother on Saturday, I opened his office door and she was leaning over his desk and then they laughed.” I shake my shoulders.

Brianna’s eyebrows push together. “I don’t understand. Were they laughing at you?”

“No…they didn’t even see me.” I bite my lip. “They just had this sort of
thing
you know, like this closeness and it made me feel sick.”

“Okay, so they laughed and it bothered you because it seemed like they had a closeness? Is it a closeness you think you and Jack don’t share?”

“I don’t know…maybe I’m just bothered because she gets to see him every day and experience that closeness and those moments and I only get the weekends.”

Brianna takes a long swallow from her glass. “Lauren, as your friend…I have to tell you…you’re being ridiculous. I understand the difficulties of a long-distance relationship, but what you’re describing isn’t abnormal. You caught a tiny glimpse of Jack laughing with someone else and you’re jealous of it.” She shakes her head. “Which is understandable. I wouldn’t want Owen being entertained by another woman either. Especially if I hardly ever saw him. However, it’s not enough to throw away a relationship over.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not jealous.”

“Um…ooh-kay. Sure. Lauren, don’t fool yourself.”

“Fine, maybe I’m a little jealous, but it still doesn’t clear up why he won’t set a date. I’m so tired of everyone asking me when we’re going to set a date. And why haven’t we set a date yet? The look of concern that follows, as if there’s something wrong with us…it’s driving me crazy. It makes me think, is there something wrong with us? It seems like he doesn’t want to set a date, which doesn’t make sense since he claims he does, but then it’s been nearly six months and no date. It’s like he’s okay with our long-distance status quo.” I pick up my drink and finish off the remaining Cabernet.

“Why do you care about the date?”

I pour some more wine in my glass. The ruby liquid swirls around, filling the globe, and I rest the bottle back on the wooden table. “I care because we obviously need one. And his reason for not setting one bothers me.” I take a sip of my drink. “And it bothers me when I’m asked about it all the time.”

“What’s his reason?”

I roll my eyes. “He says he is trying to set up an office in Maryland for his architecture firm, but he didn’t even want to share this with me.” I swallow.

“He didn’t want to tell you he was planning to move to Baltimore? Why?”

“He said he wanted to make sure it was a success first. He was afraid of failing in front of me.”

“Well, you know men tend to hold things in more than women do. You have to think about his perspective here. You’re his new fiancée. Of course he doesn’t want you to see him fail. Most men aren’t into sharing their insecurities.”

“Okay maybe, but shouldn’t he want to share things with me? Isn’t that what being partners is all about?” I take a sip of my wine.

Brianna rolls her shoulders. “I don’t know. That’s something you need to talk to him about. But don’t let other people’s issues cause a problem for you. If setting a date is an issue for you, then fine—fix it. But if setting the date isn’t as important as having an answer for people asking questions, then just let it go.”

I roll my eyes and take in a deep breath. The last time I said “let it go” was when I sang “Let It Go” to Jack as we were chopping down my Christmas tree.
Argh.
Everything seemed so different then, so fun…
back in December.
Now we are approaching June. Nearly six whole months later and we aren’t any closer to being together permanently. Now, we are further from even the idea of it. I swallow and force back tears that are trying to fall from my eyes. I blink.

“Here’s my advice: quit ignoring his phone calls and resolve this. Puffy eyes are not a good feature for you.” Brianna takes a sip of her drink.

I squint at her. “I haven’t cried today.”

“Well, then you are still carrying the look from yesterday. Seriously, Lauren, your eyes are sad. You obviously love him. Put your pride aside and talk to him.”

I dig through my purse and pull out my compact.
Shiat
. She’s right. I look like I’ve got a really bad cold and had zero nights sleep for the past week. Which isn’t true. I only had difficulty sleeping the last two nights. I powder my nose and pat underneath my eyes.

“Maybe, except he hasn’t called.”

“He hasn’t called? Since when?”

“Since Saturday. We haven’t spoken since then.”

“No voicemails or texts?”

“Nope, nothing.” I dig in my purse and hit my messages box. Nothing. I show her my phone.

Brianna pushes her head into her neck and with her thin features she does not create a typical double chin that most people would have. “Oh, Lauren…really?” She cringes.

I sigh. “Really.”

“Well, maybe he’s thinking about everything and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Brianna pours more wine into our glasses.

“Yeah…maybe…or maybe he agrees with what I said and doesn’t want to continue on with a long-distance relationship either.” I swallow and the deep lump in the back of my throat seems even bigger. I can’t clear it. It’s like something is stuck in my airway and I’m going to pass out. I force out a deep breath and smooth down my hair. I cannot pass out in a wine bar. Everyone will assume I’ve had too much to drink and in reality I’ve just had too much time to think. My brain is fried and my heart is burning. I take in short breaths and blink my eyes.

“Hey Lauren, take a deep breath. Let’s keep talking.” Brianna squeezes my hand. “What did he say to you last?”

“He wanted me to go with him for a drive or to his house so we could talk about it…and I said no. I said I just couldn’t do the long-distance relationship anymore.” My eyes begin to water.

Brianna shakes her head at me. She clears her throat. “No, we are in public; dry your eyes.”

I nod and take in a deep breath. She’s right. I don’t want to be a sobbing mess in Cellar Seventy-Seven. I could never return. This place is often photographed as a hot Baltimore night spot and it would be just my luck to show up in a magazine with red splotches on my face and puffy eyes.

“Anyways, then I went inside my parents’ house.”

“Okay. Now, let’s put aside your emotions and go back to the facts. Remember before Christmas when he was a no-show at the airport?” Brianna inspects my face like she is forcing me not to cry. “Remember he showed up at Ravens unannounced?”

I nod. It’s true—he was supposed to visit me for the first time and then was a no-show at the airport. Later, he’d explained the reason was that Vintage Estates was in deep financial trouble and he’d needed to fix it before the entire place got shut down. Jack had said he didn’t want to burden me with all the details of the messy situation and he wanted to talk to me in person, so he just showed up two weeks later and things had been great ever since then.
Until now.
I slump my shoulders.