Yours Always (11 page)

“No,” I say with a giggle.  “She’s grumpy because she’s tired, and she worries a lot.”

“Is that it?” Fletcher asks.  I nod.  “Well, I think she needs a little vacation.  If I send her away for a spa weekend, she’ll need us to keep an eye on Molly.  You up for it?”

“I like the way you made this into an ‘us’ thing.  And using the kid to help seal the deal?  Real smooth, Fletcher.”

“What!  I did no such thing.”

“You absolutely did!”

“Are you telling me you’re not interested?”

“I never said that. “

“So you are?”

“Maybe,” I say with a grin.

“I hope you know that ‘maybe’ means ‘yes’ in my book.”

“I hope you know that ‘maybe’ means ‘maybe’ in mine.”

“Too bad.  My surprise, my rules,” Fletcher says as he parks in front of my apartment.

“I had a good time tonight.  Thank you.”

“I had a good time, too.  You’re welcome.”  He comes to my side of the truck and opens the door for me, and we silently walk to my apartment.   He lingers in the doorway once I get inside.

“Aren’t you coming in?” I ask.

“Nah, not tonight.  It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

“It is late.  Well, late for me, anyway,” I say.

“I know.  It was late for you two hours ago,” Fletcher quips.  “Sweet dreams, Savannah.”

“Good night, Fletcher.”  I’m all smiles as I close the door.

“Fletcher, I don’t know about this,” Julia says, nervously pacing the length of her car.  Her hair is pulled back in a tight ponytail, and sunglasses are perched high on her head. 

“Too late to back out.  The trip is already paid for.  Molly’s going to be fine.  Molly, tell your mother that you’re going to be fine.”

“I’m going to be fine, Mom!  Uncle Fletcher talked to Miss Savannah, and we’re going to have a huge sleepover at her apartment.  We’re going to go bowling, and rent some movies, and I get to eat all the candy and junk food I can fit into my belly while you’re gone!”

“Molly, shhhh,” Fletcher teases. 

Julia rolls her eyes, and pulls Molly close.  “Look at me.  You are NOT to eat as much candy and junk food as you can while I’m gone.  Understand?”

“You’re not even gonna be here, and you’re ruining my fun!”

“Be good,” Julia says, giving Molly a kiss on the top of her head followed by a tight hug.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks Fletcher and me.  We both nod.

“She’ll be fine,” I say in as assuring a tone as I can muster.

“Call if you need.  I’ll have my phone with me at all times,” Julia says as she climbs into her car.

“Go!  Have fun,” Fletcher insists.

“I’m going.  I’m going,” Julia says, closing the door and waving as she drives away.

“What are we going to do first?” Fletcher asks, loading Molly’s suitcase into the backseat of my car.

“I’m long overdue for some pampering.  My nails look terrible.  I think we should get mani-pedis,” Molly says, once again sounding far older than her young age.

“Excuse me,” Fletcher asks.

“Ask Miss Savannah.  Girls love mani-pedis.”

“I wouldn’t know.  I’ve never had one.  I just do my own nails,” I admit.

“What!  Uncle Fletcher, we have to fix this right away.  Let’s get to a nail place stat!”

“Stat?  What language are you speaking?” Fletcher, who is obviously amused, inquires.

“Don’t you watch the medical shows?  It means right away.  Like now!” Molly answers with her hand on her hip and a “duh” look on her face.

“No, I do not, and I’m not sure that you should be watching them either,” he mentions.

“I’m not a baby.  I’m almost thirteen, which will officially make me a teenager.  That means I’m on the cusp of maturity.”

I can’t help but laugh at the dialogue going on between Fletcher and Molly.  I’m not quite sure if she’s wise beyond her years or just a parrot mimicking the things she’s been seeing and hearing.  Either way, it’s pretty funny.

“Cusp of maturity, huh?” Fletcher whispers under his breath.  “You up for this mani-pedi thing?” he directs my way.

I shrug.  “I guess.”

“Okay, tell me where I’m going, Molly.”  She shoots out rapid fire directions to a little salon in the center of a strip mall.  Fletcher wants to wait in the car, but Molly begs and pleads for him to come inside with us. 

“Lots of men get this done, Uncle Fletcher!  Please!  Come on!  You’ll like it!  I promise.”

I bite down on my lip to keep from smiling because it’s obvious she’s chipping away at his resolve.  Sure enough, he caves, and his face is priceless when he enters the salon.  He turns on his heel, but a steadfast Molly blocks his path. 

“We sit over there,” she says, pointing to the row of massage chairs.

“She’s right.  Please, come this way.  Sit,” a middle aged woman with oversized glasses and silvery blonde hair insists. 

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Fletcher says, nervously eyeing the joint.

“We have a lot of male customers who really enjoy our services,” she says in a super sweet and assuring tone.

“I’m sure they do, but…”

“Uncle Fletcher, please.  It’s so fun.”

He rolls his eyes.  “Where do I sit?”

Molly giggles while bouncing up and down. 

“You can sit anywhere you like.  You caught us at a slow time,” the woman says.

“I want to sit in the middle!” Molly says, jumping into her chair.  “Miss Savannah, you’ll sit here, and Uncle Fletcher, you’ll sit here.”  She points to the chairs on either side of her.  “Miss Savannah, we need to pick out the color we want.  Come on!”

She launches from the chair to grab my hand, and excitedly, she leads me to a wall of nail polish bottles.  She selects a neon yellow shade, but I’m left dumbfounded by the vast number of choices.  “How about you pick a color for me?” I suggest.  Molly happily takes on the assignment, and passes a bottle of flamingo pink to me. 

“Don’t you even think of bringing any of those my way,” Fletcher warns.

“I wasn’t, Uncle Fletcher!” Molly says, handing her bottle over to the brunette who will be doing her nails.  “Miss Savannah, you give your polish to the lady doing your nails.”

I’m slightly embarrassed to look over and find the attendant waiting for me, so I hurry over to the seat, kick off my flip flops, and dunk my feet into the bubbling, warm water.  She pushes a button on the chair and the massagers start to knead muscles that have been tense since childhood.  But poor Fletcher, he looks absolutely miserable in his chair, and frankly, he looks a little silly with his jeans rolled to his knees.  I give him an encouraging smile, but it doesn’t help.

“I’m sorry, Molls.  You know Uncle Fletcher will do darn near anything for you, but this is where I draw the line.” He jumps from the chair as though it’s on fire.  “I’m going to be right over here,” he says, scooping up his socks and shoes as he carefully makes his way to the empty waiting area.

Molly’s disappointment is evident, but it’s also very brief, as she soon diverts her full attention to me.  “Miss Savannah, are you enjoying this?  I can’t believe that you’ve never done this before.”

“I am enjoying it very much.  Do you do this often?”

“Yeah, my mom and I have a girl’s day at least once a month.  We get our hair fixed in the morning and then we get our fingers and toes done.  After that, we have lunch, and if mom has the extra money, sometimes we go shopping, too!”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.  You’re lucky to have such a caring mother.”

“Your mom didn’t do things like that with you?” she asks.

I shake my head.  “I didn’t see my mom much.”

“Did she work a lot?” she asks knowingly.  I can’t help but smile at how grown up she sounds.

“No, it wasn’t work.  She just wasn’t around much.”

“Oh.  What did you do for fun then?” Molly curiously inquires.

“I used my imagination a lot.  I’d dream up these elaborate stories about how my life would all change once I became an adult.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I’d travel to Europe, and while touring castles, a prince would find me and we’d instantly fall in love and live happily ever after.”

“I like that one!  What else?”

“Another one of my favorites was that I’d visit the Australian outback where I’d find my very own Crocodile Dundee.”

“Crocodile who?”

I laugh.  “Never mind.  It’s way before your time.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, shrugging it off.  “What else did you do for fun?”

“That was pretty much it.  I’d sometimes visit with my grandfather, or my friend, Lizzy, but that’s about it.”

“Miss Lizzy is going to marry Uncle Ben.  He’s not really my uncle, but he grew up with Uncle Fletcher and my daddy, so I call him uncle.”

“She sure is.  Have you met her?”

“Yep!  We stopped at Uncle Ben’s restaurant for dinner, and she was there.  I like her.  She’s nice, just like you.”

“Well, you’ll probably have more in common with her than you will with me.  Lizzy loves girly stuff.”

“Why don’t you like girly stuff?”

“I don’t have time to like girly stuff.  I work a lot.”

“You shouldn’t do that.  It’s not good for your health.  You need time to relax.”

“How old are you again?” I ask.

“Almost thirteen.”

“Well, thank you for the advice.  I’ll be able to cut back on my hours some now that…  Well, I won’t have to work as much, so I’ll try to relax more, okay?”

“Good!  I hope that you get to spend some of your extra time with Uncle Fletcher.  He really likes you, you know?”  I stumble for words, but find none.  “I know these things because my Uncle Fletcher never lets me meet his girlfriends, but he let me meet you.”

“Uh, Molly, I’m not his girlfriend, sweetie.”

She gives me a confused look.  “Why not?”

How awkward it is to be interrogated by a ‘tween!  “Well, I guess it’s because we don’t…  I don’t…  I’m not…”

“Not ready to commit, huh?”

“Molly!” I snap, and the women doing our toes smile at each other.  “Okay, can we talk about things more appropriate for your age?”

“I get fussed at a lot by my mom for putting my nose where it doesn’t belong.  She says I need to quit hanging around with the grownups and be a kid, but kids my age are so boring.”

“You’re at a tough age, but listen to your mom.  You’ll be grown up fast enough, and then you’ll wish you could be a kid again.  Enjoy it while you can, because you only get this opportunity once.”

“What are some things you wish you had done at my age?”

“I wish I’d visited some amusement parks and water parks.”

“You can do that as an adult!  Uncle Fletcher, can we take Miss Savannah to the water park one day?  Please!” she yells across the room, startling all of us.

“Uh, yeah.  Sure, if she’d like to go.”

“You will love it!  Don’t worry about the extra tall slides.  They’re scary, but I’ll hold your hand.”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please!  You said I should do some age appropriate things, and this is totally age appropriate, right?”

“Maybe,” I reply.

Her grin is so broad that one would swear she’d recently won the lottery.  We finish at the nail salon, and Fletcher seems overjoyed to have a change of scenery.  It’s quiet for about two blocks before Molly starts chatting again.

“Can we go to the water park tomorrow, Uncle Fletcher?  Please?”  She’s careful to draw out the please.  Fletcher takes his eyes off the road long enough to glance in my direction.

“I don’t even own a swimsuit,” I admit.  “You two are welcome to go without me, though.”

“We can get you a swimsuit, Miss Savannah.  Please!  It won’t be any fun without you.”

“I guess that means we’re going shopping?” Fletcher asks.

“I don’t…”  Before I can actually argue the point, he’s changing lanes and heading towards the mall.

Once again, I’m letting a ‘tween dictate my decisions, not merely because she’s a little on the bossy side, but mostly because I’m clueless.  At my age, I don’t even know which stores to patronize for a swimsuit.  Fletcher rests himself in a comfy chair near the food court.

“I’ll wait right here,” he insists.

“You aren’t coming with us?” I ask, nervously eyeing the endless rows of shops.

“Nope.  Y’all have fun,” he says, picking up a newspaper someone has left behind.

“Okay, where do we go first, Molly?” I ask.

“Over here, Miss Savannah!” she says, sprinting off towards a store with a very elaborate summer theme in the picture window.  Once we’re inside, she runs straight to an end display. “This is the one!  You have to get it!” she squeals while holding up what looks like metallic dental floss with two tiny triangular pads.

“There is absolutely no way that I’m even going to consider something like that.  This is more my style,” I say, desperately reaching for a skirted one piece.