The Icing on the Cake (24 page)

“What’s wrong, honey?” Mom asked, taking one look at my face.

I plopped onto the couch rag-doll like, next to Mom who was reading a thick book. “I’m on my way to becoming . . . to becoming . . . a dumpster girl,” I let out the last two words in a dramatic wail.

“Oh, honey, no you’re not,” Mom comforted, putting her arm around my shoulder.

“Oh yes I am,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m going to get fired, and then I’ll have to live in a dumpster. Just me and Arnie.”

“Are you talking about the sea lion again?” Mom asked, her brow wrinkling.

I nodded.

“Annabelle,” Mom began slowly. “Is everything all right?” She put a bookmark in her book and looked at me. “I could call Brother Kinsley.” Brother Kinsley is a psychologist in my parents’ ward.

“What? I don’t need to talk to Brother Kinsley. Why would you say something like that?”

“First of all, there are the sea lion comments.”

“What’s wrong with talking about Arnie?” I asked, surprised by Mom’s unwarranted concern for my lucidity.

Mom looked at me lovingly. “Remember in the movie
Harvey
when Jimmy Stewart kept seeing the life-size rabbit? I think it was because he needed a friend.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not just seeing Arnie.”

“It’s okay, Annabelle,” Mom assured me in a soft voice.

“What’s okay? Arnie’s real. I broke him, and the poor woman who sculpted him looked heartbroken, so I bought him. Actually, Isaac bought him, but I’m going to pay him—”

Mom cut me off. “Sculpted him?”

“Yeah. Arnie is a sculpture.”

“A sculpture,” Mom repeated, sounding relieved that she didn’t have to call Brother Kinsley.

“I’m sure I told you that,” I said.

Mom sighed. “You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I was just kind of going crazy last night. And now I’m going even crazier since I’m going to end up living in a dumpster in a matter of days.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Mom asked.

For the next twenty minutes I filled Mom in on what was going on. I told her that my article was doomed. Then I told her that even the things that were going well seemed like time bombs waiting to go off. Like my relationship with Isaac; Rona was an ever present threat to that. Then there was the catering for Carrie’s shower; it was looking pretty good right now, but it was still in the hands of Patrique, and for some reason that left me feeling very uneasy.

“Honey,” Mom said lovingly, “sometimes we think we have it all figured out. We know exactly how we want things to go. We make our lists, our plans. And that’s good. But just remember that no matter what happens—even if it’s completely different from what you planned—if you’re living the way God wants you to, it will be for your good. Just remember that.”

“I will,” I whispered.

“How about some apple tarts?” Mom asked with a smile. “I made a batch yesterday.”

I nodded. Twenty-four years old and Mom’s treats can still do the trick.

I followed Mom into the kitchen where we sat at the breakfast bar and ate some tarts. “So where’s Dad?” I asked as I sank my teeth into a scrumptious tart.

“He already left to go to the Giants game with Brian and Brett from work,” Mom answered.

I nodded my head and reached for another one of the delicious pastries.

In the middle of my second, okay fourth, tart, I heard my phone ringing from the other room. I ran to answer it. The caller ID said Isaac. “Hello,” I answered, my mouth still full of tart.

“Hi,” Isaac said. “I was just calling to tell you not to eat anything. Part of my surprise is food.”

“I’ll be sure to save room,” I assured Isaac. “I’m heading over right now. So I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay. I’ll be looking forward to it,” Isaac said, a longing sound in his voice.

Isaac and I ended our conversation and I stood in place, smiling ridiculously.

“Mom,” I called out toward the kitchen, “I’ve gotta go. See you Sunday.”

Mom came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I’m making my chicken crescents and crème caramel for dessert,” she said proudly.

“Mmm,” I said, my salivary glands dancing
.
Seriously, Mom’s crème caramel is pure deliciousness. “I can’t wait.”

I picked up my handbag and headed for the door.

“Where are you off to?” Mom asked, following me as I walked.

“I’m going to help Isaac set up for a piano recital at La Bonne Violette. Isaac’s brother, Ethan, teaches piano to children with disabilities. One of his students invited me.” I smiled as I remembered adorable little Angel.

“That’s great,” Mom said with a smile. “Have a good time. Tell Isaac I said hello.”

“Okay, I will.” I took Mom into a hug and added, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, sweetie.”

I was walking to my car when I became painfully aware that I was still in my work clothes. But the twenty minutes I told Isaac it would take me to get to La Bonne Violette didn’t give me enough time to run home and change into a suitable “kiss me” outfit.

Of course it didn’t. From the second I met Isaac, I wanted to impress him, just like I desired to impress all of the other guys I dated, but it had never worked out that way.

Memories flashed through my mind like a movie. Me throwing a phone book at him. Me with a tomato-stained shirt and a stinky-cheese stench. Me shoving a huge bite of ham sandwich into my mouth. Me with a fat lip, wearing a pair of Isaac’s drawstring pants. Me waddling out of the fairgrounds as I held one end of
Arnie of the Sea
and Isaac held the other.

I turned around and headed back inside.

“I’m gonna go change,” I explained to Mom as I bounded back into the house.

I made my way to the closet of my old room, where I kept a stash of clothes I had been meaning to donate to Deseret Industries. I wouldn’t find a “kiss-me” outfit in there, but I wouldn’t look any worse than Isaac had seen me look before. And at least I would be more comfortable than I would be in my work clothes, which I had been spending entirely too much time in lately.

I flung open the closet and for some reason began singing the Mission Impossible song.

The mission: to find something to change into.

Task one: find a pair of pants.

I searched the closet, tossing pairs of pants behind me as I decided against them. A pair of Wrangler jeans I bought because Clint, a rodeo competitor I dated briefly a year earlier, said he liked them. No. Toss. The Karate pants I paid a fortune for when I was dating Bud the Martial Arts instructor. No. Toss. The vinyl jumpsuit I bought during the Hadwin days. No. Toss.

Finally, in the corner of the closet I found a pair of jeans I remembered leaving at my parents’ house after I had helped Mom work in the garden. She must have washed them and put them in the closet. I kicked off the pants I was wearing and slipped the jeans on. Task one complete.

Task two: find a shirt.

I pulled shirts from their hangers and tossed the rejects behind me to join the pile of pants. A black tee with the words “Space Girl” written on it from when I was dating, who else, Hadwin. No. Toss. A shirt I wore the summer I worked at Happy Howie’s hot dog stand so I could get enough money to get my nails done and hair highlighted like Rona’s so Alex would regret not taking me to the prom. No. Toss.

Then I saw the shirt I got when I volunteered at the children’s hospital. I grinned as I remembered that experience. I wrote a huge amount of Pink Notes in those three months. I removed my blouse and pulled the tee over my head. Task two complete.

Final task: locate a pair of shoes.

Since there weren’t any shoes in my closet, I went and asked Mom if she had any I could wear. Mom said she did and sat on the king-size bed in her room as I searched her walk-in closet.

Mom’s style is classic, with all the basics to mix and match: think JC Penney catalogue. I sat on the floor of the closet and looked through her shoes. Heeled leather boots in brown and black. No. Too hard to walk in. Leather slides in similar brown and black. No. Too easy to slide out of. Many a stumble has revolved around me and a pair of slides. Pumps with pointed and rounded toes. No. At least not for tonight. But I did want to borrow the pointed black sling-backs sometime.

Then, under a pair of brown boots, I saw some red flip-flops.

“These are cute,” I said.

“You think so? They were on a 75% off sale at Penney’s at the end of last summer,” Mom said. Was I right about that JC Penney thing or what? “I haven’t ever worn them though. They’re a little too bright for me. You can have them if you want.”

“Thanks,” I said to Mom as I slipped the shoes on my feet. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror inside Mom’s closet door and smiled. The outfit didn’t exactly scream, “Kiss me, baby,” but still I was pleased with what I saw: me.

I went into Mom’s bathroom, smoothed some of her vanilla-flavored lip gloss on my lips, and put the tube in my pocket. Mom smiled at my klepto-like action. Half the stuff in my possession was snagged from my parents’ house in a similar fashion.

“I’m really leaving now,” I told Mom as I gave her a hug.

“Have a nice time,” Mom said.

“I will.”

Isaac didn’t see me come in.

So I crept up behind him, put one hand over his eyes and slipped my other arm around his shoulders affectionately.

“You better be who I think you are,” Isaac said, feigning a tone of warning.

I uncovered his eyes and smiled sweetly at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Isaac echoed. “I like your shoes.” He glanced down at the red flip-flops I was wearing. “You have cute feet.”

“Thanks,” I responded, wiggling my toes.

“You have cute everything,” Isaac said. Then he pulled me into a hug and kissed me on the cheek softly. In front of everyone.

After the kiss, Isaac stared at me as if he were surprised at what he had just done, and I gazed up at him with a stunned, I’m-having-trouble-breathing expression on my face. I then looked around the room, expecting everyone’s mouths to be dropped open at this momentous occasion.

But all the people in the elegant room had continued going about their duties—some draping red-silk cloth onto the tables, some setting out white rose floral arrangements, and others tying red bows onto the white chairs.

Didn’t they realize what had just happened? Isaac had just kissed me—granted, not a mouth kiss, but I was sure he was just saving that for later—in public. And according to an article on relationships in a leading psychology research journal, that meant things were getting serious. Okay, so it was an article in
FAB
magazine, but still.

Isaac and I were exchanging shameless looks of flirtation when Ethan came up beside us. “Hey, guys,” he said in a light tone that let me know that he, like everyone else, had missed the kiss. “Did you ever find the piano mike?” Ethan asked Isaac.

“I was just going to look for it,” Isaac replied. Then he said to me, “I’ll be right back,” and turned to go.

“But what should I do in the meantime?” I asked.

Isaac looked at Ethan. “What still needs to be done?”

“You can help Jacqueline and Amber with the napkins,” Ethan said. He pointed to a table where the two ladies were about to sit down, their arms loaded with white linen napkins.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” Isaac said before he dashed away.

“So are you coming to the recital?” Ethan asked me.

“I sure am.” I looked around the elegant room. “This is really gorgeous. All my piano recitals were in old VFW halls.”

“You play?” Ethan asked me, sounding interested.

I shook my head regretfully. “I haven’t played in years.” I sighed and redirected the conversation. “You know, it’s really great what you do for the kids, and for their families.”

“They do more for me than I do for them,” Ethan said poignantly.

I smiled a knowing smile. “Isn’t it interesting the way that happens?”

“It is,” Ethan agreed. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I’ll see you.”

“See ya.”

The moment Ethan left I heard a small voice calling out, “Hey, Isaac’s friend!”

I turned around and saw Angel zipping toward me in his motorized wheelchair. “Hey,” I greeted the boy.

“Are you gonna watch me play tonight?” Angel asked, his eyes shining.

“You did invite me,” I said.

Angel smiled shyly. “Um, I gotta go help my grandpa. I just wanted to say hi. Bye.”

“Good-bye.”

With a little wave in Angel’s direction, I walked over to the table where Jacqueline and Amber were sitting. “Hi,” I said with a bright smile as I took a seat across from the pair. “I’ve been sent to help with the napkins.”