If Devin were honorable, he wouldn’t have put on his little display last night. Dancing with Nancy all night had even made his longtime friend, who’d agreed to be his date, mad. If her talking to him didn’t make him back off, then he wasn’t the friend I thought he was. He should at least be man enough to talk to me about it. I was a little sad Mom had pointed out what was going on. I’d lost a lot of respect for Devin over the last day. I wondered if I should initiate the conversation with Devin before we damaged our relationship so much I couldn’t work with him anymore.
I’d decided to talk to Nancy about it when she interrupted my thoughts.
“Can just the two of us go out tonight? I’d like some alone time with you,” she said.
“Of course, we can.”
She let out a long breath and smiled at me. Maybe I had been reading too much into this. I sure hoped so.
I WAS GETTING READY to take Nancy out when my phone rang. I could tell it was Tami by the ringtone, Cryin’ by Aerosmith—those lyrics just fit, for me.
“I am so mad at my mom,” Tami launched right in.
“Why would you be mad at your mom?” I asked.
I thought it was a reasonable question. Apparently, it was not.
“Don’t give me any of your crap. You know good and well what’s going on. You can’t tell me Alan or someone else isn’t keeping you in the loop,” she accused me.
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
“What should I do about it?” she asked.
I froze, trying to think what Tami and her mom could be fighting about. Then it hit me: it had to be Simon. This was the last fight I wanted to get into the middle of. Anything I said would end up being wrong, and only drive a wedge deeper between us. If I sided with her mom, I was trying to break her and Simon up. If I sided with her, I was being spineless and just agreeing with her. I had seen this played out before in different variations.
“Can I ask a couple of questions?”
“If they’re not stupid,” she shot back.
“I don’t know if they’re stupid or not. If they are, can we keep the name-calling to a minimum?”
“Go ahead.”
I could imagine her fuming and tapping her foot with impatience. I tried not to chuckle at that mental image. I found that to be one of the top three worst responses. It ranked up there with telling her what I really thought, and the absolute worst: telling her she was wrong. I found the Dawson Cone of Silence was usually my best fallback position. I have no idea why I tried to be reasonable.
“Do you understand where your mother’s coming from?”
“Yes.”
“Does she understand where you’re coming from?”
“Yes.”
“Do you see where there might be a chance for a compromise?”
“No.”
“Okay, this sounds serious. Is anyone else involved?”
“You know there is.”
“Are they willing to let this damage your relationship with your mom?”
I was hoping this had to do with Simon staying at the hotel.
“Yes.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes.”
“Are you willing to damage your relationship with your mom over this?”
“Yes.”
“There you have it, then. Do whatever you want. If you don’t care what your mom thinks, then have at it. Don’t be surprised when you get grounded,” I offered.
“But ...”
“Tami, you just said it. You don’t care if you hurt your mom. It actually makes me sad to hear you’d allow this to happen, but I know you, and only you can make up your mind.”
“You haven’t helped with this at all,” she complained.
“What did you expect me to do?” I asked.
“Call my mom and talk some sense into her,” she answered.
“Hell no! I’m not getting in the middle of this with your mom. Besides, I’ve no idea what’s going on.”
“You seriously haven’t talked to your mom?”
“Tami, Mom doesn’t tell me what’s happening in your life.”
“Oh. Simon ...”
“Stop! Do not make me get involved in this. I’ll make one observation before I hang up: if he’s willing to push an issue so far it damages your relationship with your mom, I don’t think he’s a very nice guy. I’d look at this very hard. I personally would never allow someone I was just dating to get between me and my family. You need to think about how this’ll hurt your mom. I bet if you really thought about it, you’d agree with me.”
“You just don’t like Simon, no one does.”
Again, I almost chuckled. She sounded like she was ten years old, throwing a tantrum.
“I don’t even know him, so I don’t know where you get off passing judgment about how much I like or dislike Simon. And, if no one likes him, you might want to figure out why. Your friends would never tell you they didn’t like your boyfriend unless they felt strongly about it because we all love and support you. I think if you aren’t careful, you might end up damaging more than just your relationship with your mom over this.”
She hung up on me. I counted that as a victory. That went much better than I expected.
NANCY AND I WENT TO an upscale restaurant for dinner. It gave her a chance to dress up and wear the earrings Devin had given her. The earrings irritated me, but she looked good in them. I had brought some nice clothes in anticipation of my trip to LA. They sat us in a dark corner, in a wraparound booth. Nancy was in a playful mood and snuggled up next to me. I felt her hand teasing my thigh.
“So now that you’re done working, what’s the plan?” Nancy asked me.
“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. I’ve talked with the chef, and he’s letting me cook the meal. If you’d like to help, I’d enjoy the company.”
“What are you making?”
“Tracy’s grandfather used to own restaurants. Her mother has been using his recipes and teaching me to cook. She gave me an idea for a rib roast. Mom and Angie are going to make desserts, and Bonnie’s baking bread.”
“Could I make my mom’s broccoli casserole?” Nancy asked.
“That sounds good. I was thinking about doing mushrooms as a side dish because I know Greg and Dad love them. I need to figure out a potato dish.”
“I like horseradish sauce with rib roast.”
“Do you know how to make it?” I asked.
“No, but I’ll bet we can find a recipe online.”
I could see her getting excited about working together on making the meal. I was a little nervous about making the rib roast, but Mary Dole had promised me her recipe was foolproof. I hoped so because a rib roast wasn’t cheap. I had asked Mary for an idea to wow my family, and she immediately suggested it. She said for a special occasion that it was perfect.
The restaurant featured French cuisine. For an appetizer, we had a cheese/fruit/nut tray, and Nancy ordered a tasting flight of different French wines. For the main course, we had lamb chops with baby carrots. I had never tried lamb before and really enjoyed it. For dessert, we had crème brûlée.
Over dessert and coffee, Nancy got a serious look on her face.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed anything. I know your mom has. I ... ah,” Nancy said hesitantly.
I reached over and took her hand.
“I can tell you’re uncomfortable. I find it best to just say it,” I suggested.
“Your family loves you very much. Your mom and I had a long talk yesterday. She actually told me if I didn’t stop acting like a lawyer she was going to put me over her knee,” Nancy said with a smile.
I knew my mom well enough to know she would do just that.
“That would be my mom. I take it she grilled you.”
“More like, she knocked some sense into me. I need to start from the beginning.”