* * *
David
I’m up earlier than usual on Saturday. I should be more tired than normal after an impromptu business trip to San Mateo yesterday to talk to Joe’s team in person, but my brain’s too wired.
My plan to hire a fashion consultant/shopper failed, sort of. I found the perfect person, but she had a family emergency and couldn’t make it. Erin didn’t show any reaction to that, but she had to have been disappointed.
I would’ve been too if I were her, especially after she smiled so beautifully when I brought it up.
I stare at the portrait of Jan and Matt, then roll out of bed. Staying here is creepy, especially with my cousin and best friend staring at me. I really need to do something about the damn picture.
Erin’s still not up by the time I shower, throw on a comfortable cotton Sweet Darlings T-shirt and shorts and make it downstairs to the kitchen. After grabbing a mug of coffee, I start frying up some bacon. It’s my way of making up for the fact that Erin didn’t get to claim her bonus. If I were as culinarily talented as my mom, I’d also whip up some French toast, but I know my limitations.
Soon Erin comes down the stairs. She’s in a cream-colored scoop-neck top, a gray skirt and Mary Janes. What the… Why is she dressed like she’s about to head to the office?
“Good morning, David,” she says with a small smile.
“Morning, Erin. I left you some coffee there.”
“Thanks.” She comes into the kitchen to grab a mug.
“You going somewhere?” I ask, laying the cooked bacon strips on paper towels.
“Huh?” She takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“You’re dressed like you have a meeting at the office or something.” And as far as I know, there aren’t any meetings or urgent projects. Not in marketing, anyway. Some other department better not be trying to get her to work this weekend. Otherwise, I’m having a nasty chat with whoever’s in charge.
She looks down at her outfit. “Oh. No. I’m not… I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yo
u know, this is your home, too. You can dress comfortably.” I should’ve told her this earlier. She hates to presume.
“I know, but it’s okay. I can’t lounge around in nothing but pajamas all day long. I’m a little weird that way.”
Well, yeah. I can name a lot of people who like nothing better than spending the day in pajamas, including my own parents, but I know how lacking Erin’s closet is. Hopefully, the shopper can reschedule soon, so Erin will have something more casual to relax in at home.
“Want some bacon?” I ask. “I generally only have bacon for breakfast on weekends. Gotta enjoy myself when I can.” If I were home, Mom would’ve made a huge platter of French toast…but also forced me to eat my greens. For some reason, she’s a firm believer of eating vegetables for breakfast. The first meal of the day should be as much animal protein and starchy carbs as you can cram into your mouth, with maybe a piece of fruit to be healthy. Plenty of time for the green stuff after a person’s fully awake.
“Yeah, sure. Bacon is great.” Erin filches a strip off the paper towels and nibbles on it.
I take one too, but unlike her, I munch on it with open greed. Bacon is at its best when you gobble it with gusto. And I like that she’s relaxed and at ease. And doesn’t seem too upset about the shopper canceling.
“By the way…” She swallows her bite and takes a sip of coffee. “Shelly’s not invited to Alexandra’s birthday party, is she?”
“Huh? Of course not.” I scowl, wondering if Mom said something to Erin. “Why? Even if she were, I’d ask Grandma to disinvite her.”
Erin’s neck and shoulders visibly relax. “Okay. Good. Just making sure, because you said her mom and your mom are close.”
“Grandma usually invites family and a few select friends for her birthday. Shelly doesn’t know her well enough to qualify. She came to a few parties in the past, but it was because we were dating.” She always tried to ingratiate herself with my grandmother, except Grandma was never interested. Probably because she could see through Shelly’s phony carapace.
The intercom buzzes. Erin lights up. “Must be my stuff!”
She dashes to the wall. Smiling at her enthusiasm, I scarf down more bacon and grab another cup of coffee. What could she have ordered to make her so buoyant?
She returns with a couple of paper bags. I grab them from her because they look heavy. And I’m right. They must be packed with bricks.
“What are these?” I say, setting them on the counter and peeking inside. I spot a bag of peaches on top. “You didn’t have to buy groceries. I would’ve taken care of it.”