Sweet Imperfection (9 page)

She smiled at her mother. “I love you.”

There was a wet brightness in her mother’s eyes as she whispered back, “I love you, too, beautiful girl.”

The sunny weather didn’t hold, and Emma woke to rain on Saturday morning. It wasn’t early, but the house was still. Her mother was jetlagged, and they’d both stayed up late, talking and drinking tea in Emma’s kitchen after they’d returned from dinner. Maybe they’d take refuge in a museum or go to an art house movie. Emma loved when she had out of town guests as it was the only time she allowed herself to take advantage of the cultural offerings of the city. The rest of the time, she was working.

She’d thought a lot about what her mother had said the night before. Closure. That would be helpful. She hadn’t been able to get Nate out of her head all week, and it would be good if they could meet and make a clean break. Then maybe she would be able to purge him from her mind and focus on her real life.

But meeting with him would involve calling him, and she’d need fortification before she could handle that particular task. She was in the process of brewing a pot of coffee when her mother shuffled into the kitchen, yawning, but still lovelier than a jetlagged middle-aged woman had any right to be.

They kissed each other good morning, and Juliette gratefully accepted the mug Emma pressed into her hands.

“So what shall we do first? Shopping or shopping?”

Emma laughed. No matter how many museum visits or cultural events she lined up, her mother always wanted to do one thing when she came to visit. Emma was a terrible shopper, but her mother’s company and flawless eye made it bearable.

“I guess, since it’s raining, we could forgo the brisk walk in the park I had planned,” Emma teased.

“Please, darling. You always need new clothes for work, and I’ll bet you could use some summer dresses, too.”

“Don’t forget the shoes,” Emma said. “But we have to get something to eat first. I don’t have much on hand. Let’s go around the corner to the Stone Park Cafe for a bite and then splurge on a car service to take us to the Village. My friend, Sybil, wants to meet us for a late lunch over there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The rain had calmed to a mere mist by the time they took to the sidewalk. Juliette sighed happily as they turned onto 5th Avenue. A car honked right next to them, and a woman was screaming at someone through an upstairs window. People were hurrying around, avoiding puddles, and the scent of burnt toast mingled with car exhaust fumes.

“Oh, how I love the city,” Juliette said without a hint of irony.

“Haven’t you convinced Dad to move to San Francisco or, better yet, move out here?” Juliette had been raised in Paris and gone to college at Stanford, where she’d met Emma’s father. They’d stayed in Northern California ever since, mostly in the suburbs, as Silicon Valley grew and changed the landscape of the area forever. It had always been her mother’s dream to return to city life although Emma’s father seemed more than content with their split-level ranch home and his short commute to work.

“Oh, you know your father. He says when we retire, but that could be a decade from now.”

“Well, keep working on him—” Emma cut herself off. There was a line in front of her favorite brunch spot, and Nate Hirsch was one of the dozen or so young Brooklynites standing in it.

She stopped midstride and turned one-hundred-eighty degrees. Her mother kept walking. “Um, Mom, wait.”

“What is going on, Emma? I’m famished.”

“Yeah, um, Nate’s outside the restaurant. Don’t look.” Juliette, of course, peered curiously at the crowd.

“The slim one with the cheekbones? He’s very attractive.”

“I know,” Emma said miserably. “I’m not ready to see him right now. Let’s go to Dizzy’s. It’s a few blocks away.” She started walking, not giving her mother a chance to object.

“All right. Slow down; I’m wearing heels.”

***

Nate had reluctantly agreed to brunch at the Stone Park Cafe with Cory, Lizzie, and another couple, wary of being the fifth wheel and unwilling to let Cory turn him into a pity project. After a filling meal and enough fun conversation to get his mind off his girl troubles, he was glad he’d gone. The rain seemed to have stopped, but the skies above Park Slope were flat and gray. He took the long way back to his apartment, the fresh air feeling good against his skin. He should really take his bike out and get some exercise.

He’d spent a lot of time considering what to do about Emma. He needed to see her; that was clear. He told himself if he could figure out the right words, the right approach, then he could fix this. He avoided a line of strollers that were taking up most of the sidewalk outside a diner. The visual reminder of babies didn’t rub so raw anymore, he was relieved to realize as he successfully negotiated the virtual parking lot of carriages. He glanced in the big plate-glass window, saw a plethora of diners with kids, and, with a jolt, recognized Emma right away, sitting alone at a table for two. She looked lovely, if a little tired, as she stared absently ahead of her and sipped from a mug. The remains of brunch plates sat at both places, and Nate’s stomach soured as he imagined who she might have shared brunch with. A man? He grimaced. This had gone on long enough. Screw the perfect approach. He missed her. He had to convince her to give him another chance.

He was about to brave the stroller maze once more to reach the door of the diner and have it out with her, but then he saw a woman weaving her way back to the table. She had dark hair and fine bones, and Nate instantly recognized her as Emma’s mother. He stepped back. It was one thing to barge in on Emma with some guy who likely didn’t appreciate the jackpot he’d hit in acquiring Emma’s company. It was another to face the woman of his dreams and her mother.

Nate turned and kept walking. In matters of the heart, it was smart to take one’s advantages when one could, and he knew when he was outmatched. He’d make some plans and be prepared for the next battle.

***

Hours later, Emma had dropped Juliette and an armful of shopping bags at the brownstone then run out again to get some much-needed basic supplies. Shopping worked up an appetite, but Emma was too spooked to go out to eat in her neighborhood after nearly running into Nate that morning. She’d been so thrown, she kept thinking she’d seen him all day, passing her on the crowded sidewalk, even outside the restaurant where she had ended up taking her mother for brunch. She was obsessed, and she could think of only one way to end this. She had to see him. But she hated to interrupt her weekend with her mother with her boy drama, so she’d wait until the start of the week to get in touch.

She entered the market and filled a basket with vegetables, fruit, eggs, and pasta. She was browsing the display of overpriced gourmet chocolate bars by the register when the bell tinkled. She whipped her head up, then down, when she saw Nate walk into the store, holding a bunch of yellow gladioli from the display outside. He headed straight for the register, and Emma acted on instinct, turning away and throwing herself around the corner of the aisle, out of sight.

She waited and peeked through jars of olive tapenade, watching as Nate paid for the flowers and left. The entire episode had taken less than three minutes, but Emma’s limbs felt frozen, and her breathing was erratic. This was getting ridiculous. She was acting like a ninny. She couldn’t be surprised that they might run into one another; they only lived a handful of blocks apart. She’d run into two other friends of hers at brunch that very day. What did she think would happen if they faced each other anyway?

She hoisted her basket onto the counter by the register and absently placed the rung up items into her sturdy canvas shopping tote. Why had Nate been buying flowers? More importantly,
who
had he been buying them for? Emma sincerely hoped his great aunt was in the hospital or his cousin had graduated from high school or something.

Maybe she shouldn’t wait until Monday to call him. It was Saturday night. He could be going on a date. The thought made her ill. The idea of Nate buying flowers for a girl he was taking out on a date a week after they’d spent such an amazing time together—in bed and out—was unacceptable. Her mother was right. It was time she took a little control of her destiny.

The flowers looked bright and cheerful to Nate’s eyes as he rounded the corner onto 4th Street. Since seeing Emma at the restaurant earlier that day, he’d thought over his plan of attack. First, he’d bring flowers. Flowers never hurt when trying to win over a girl, and he happened to remember Emma saying she loved yellow ones. Second, he’d go to her turf. He’d gone to the trouble of calling a friend on the reunion committee, who’d given him Emma’s exact address. That way, she’d feel comfortable, and, if nothing else, he could at least give her his professional opinion on the house if she wanted it. Third, he’d have an audience. He was taking a chance that her mother would be around and that maybe Emma would feel as if she had to be polite and hear him out. He’d always gotten along well with his girlfriends’ mothers in the past. Maybe he could charm this one, too.

He’d debated calling first, but he needed the element of surprise. There was no guarantee she’d be home, but there was no guarantee she’d pick up the phone if he called, either.

So here he was, ready to do battle in a clean shirt with a fistful of flowers. He wouldn’t leave until he’d won Emma over or had at least gotten her to accept his apology.

Twilight was setting in, and warm yellow light illuminated the windows of her building. As he reached out to ring the bell, he heard faint noises inside. It seemed she was home. He had a sudden moment of panic. He needed her so much. What if she sent him away?

His hand was still hovering over the buzzer when the door flew open. Emma’s mother stood there, an impassive smile on her face as she looked him over. He felt as if he was under a scientist’s microscope, but he straightened his shoulders and offered a smile.

“Hello, I’m Nate Hirsch. Is Emma home?”

“Hello, Nate, I’m Juliette Delvaux, Emma’s mother. She is home if you would be so kind as to wait.”

With the strangely formal introductions complete, she indicated the small entryway and he stepped inside. He smelled onions frying in butter and realized it was dinnertime.

Emma’s mother exited through a doorway, leaving him alone. He glanced around the freshly painted entryway. The building had good bones, as they say, but he could see what she meant by projects. The baseboards were uneven and some corner pieces were missing. There was a staircase leading to the upper floors. The handrail looked rickety, and some of the balusters were gone. Still, with the evening light turning the soft cream paint golden and the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, it felt homey unlike his barren studio apartment over a Cuban deli.

He rocked back on his heels and forced himself to loosen his hold on the bouquet before he throttled the stems. He heard a noise from the direction of the kitchen. It sounded like a pot lid clattering to the floor. He smiled. He wondered if Emma was a good cook. It didn’t matter one way or the other, but he wanted to know everything about her. He hoped he’d get the chance to find out.

After an eternity, soft footsteps announced someone’s approach. Emma appeared, her hair in a loose ponytail, wearing jeans and a blue tank top, her feet bare. Nate’s breath caught. His mouth literally watered at the sight of her. It felt outrageously good to be near her again. How had he come to crave her after only a week?

Her expression was guarded then her eyes fell to the flowers, and he thought he caught the hint of a smile play around her lips. He thrust them forward.

“These are for you.”

“Thanks.” She took them and cocked her head to one side. Nate’s mind went blank. What else had he come here to say?

“What brings you by?” she prompted.

“Right, sorry. I hope you don’t mind my dropping in. I got your address from someone on the reunion committee, and I thought since I promised I’d take a look at your place, maybe now would be a good time.”

“Well, my mom’s visiting from out of town, and we were putting together some dinner.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I can come back.”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“After dinner. Tomorrow. Anytime at all, really.” He sounded like an idiot. She glanced at the flowers and appeared to come to a decision.

“Well, if you’re free now, you can stay for dinner. And after, I’ll show you around, and you can give me your professional advice.”

Nate felt as if he’d passed some sort of test, but dinner could be an even greater challenge. He nodded. “I’d like that. Thank you.”

He followed her through a large, open living area dominated by an oversized wooden table with a laptop and file folders set up on the end near the window overlooking the street. The other end was set with plates and cutlery for two. The back of the room opened onto a small but functional kitchen done in shades of yellow. Emma’s mother stood at the stove, stirring pasta into a bubbling pot of water.

“Nate’s going to join us for dinner, Mom,” Emma said. She reached into a high cupboard, the movement lifting her shirt to expose a section of lower back and withdrew a glass vase. Nate wanted to touch her more than he wanted food or air, but now wasn’t the time. She fussed with the blooms while her mom poured him a glass of red wine. He was glad for the glass—it gave him something to do with his hands. They were so often occupied with a piece of wood and a tool that to have nothing in them set him on edge. He tried to relax and get into the casual conversation between mother and daughter. Emma was not doing the cooking, he noted, as she set the table for one more, and her mother stirred at various pots and added fragrant herbs to a salad bowl.

“It’s always good to meet one of Emma’s friends,” the older woman was saying. “We had a light lunch with a friend of hers from work at some funny place. What was it called, The Three Sows?”