Sunset In Central Park. Sarah Morgan
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been calling so often?”
“Of course. I wanted to tell you you’re better off without them. The hours they made you work. Inhuman. Not getting enough rest is bad for your skin and no one is going to fall in love with you if you’re looking old and ugly. Don’t worry about the money. Dev could give you a loan. He’s in banking.” She snuggled closer to Dev and patted his arm. “Only twenty-nine and already on his way to the top, can you believe that? Right now I’m his favorite way of spending money. Fortunately, he’s nothing like your father. Lord, that man was miserly. I expected him to charge me rent just for sitting on my own sofa. That’s one of the advantages of dating much younger men. They know how to live in the moment. He lives very close to here, by the way.”
Frankie felt the color drain from her cheeks. “My father?”
“No! That man is so lily-livered he hasn’t been in touch since the day he walked out, you know that!” Her laugh was high-pitched. “I’m talking about Dev!”
“You should go, Mom. If you haven’t been to bed yet, you must be tired.”
“I didn’t say we hadn’t been to bed. I said we hadn’t been to sleep.” Gina gave Dev a playful nudge. “This man is an animal I tell you. He exhausts even me, and I have more stamina than most. That’s another reason I love younger men. You have no idea how many times he can—”
“Mom!” Frankie barked out the word, mortified. Heads around her turned in curiosity and she was transported back to her teenage years when it had felt as if everyone was staring at her. “We don’t need details.”
She’d grown up with details. They were scarred into her brain.
Would she have had fewer issues if her mother hadn’t been so free with the details?
“How I ever raised such a prude I will never know. You need to loosen up. People say it’s impossible to meet a man in Manhattan, but I say they’re looking in the wrong place.”
“Mom—”
“Use it or lose it. Who was it who said that? I can’t remember.” Gina Cole frowned, until she remembered that frowning was bad for her and quickly smoothed her forehead with her fingers. “If you need money or a place to stay—”
“I don’t. I make my own money and I have my own place.”
And she had her own issues, personal to her.
Thanks, Mom.
“Of course you do! Owned by Paige’s handsome brother.” Gina winked and stepped closer to Frankie. “Now that’s a man with brains, looks and money. Matt is that irresistible combination of smart and sexy. I read a feature on him the other day. He was wearing a tool belt and making a seat out of a log. Those abs. I swear I—”
“Please, Mom!”
“Please what? Oh, don’t worry about Dev. He’s not the jealous type.”
Shame spread over her like a rash, not least because she’d had the same thoughts herself and the idea of having anything in common with her mother was horrifying. And mingled in with the shame was anger that her mother could contaminate a relationship that was precious to her. What if she said something similar to Matt? Frankie would die. It had been the same growing up. The embarrassment and shame had clung to her like a cloak, visible to everyone who looked. Like mother, like daughter.
“We have to go. We’re working.”
“So you got another job?”
“That’s right. And I need to do it right now. Have a good day, Mom.” Frankie started to walk away, nausea churning in her stomach.
“Wait! When are you going to invite us around? We’re family, Frankie.”
Frankie paused, wishing the burning in her gut would ease and trying not to imagine the horror of her mother bumping into Matt. What if she said something embarrassing? Or worse. What if she flirted?
This was the reality of family and it wasn’t the cozy, comforting thing Eva fantasized about. It was like opening a bag expecting to find sugar, only to discover that someone had substituted salt.
“I have a lot going on right now.”
“It’s been ages. And how is dear, sweet Eva? Still missing her grandmother? We should go out together one night. All the girls together. It would be fun. Call me to arrange it and for goodness’ sake throw away those hideous glasses and get yourself contacts. No man is going to want to sleep with you in those. See you soon!” She walked away and Frankie sagged against the wall.
“What is wrong with her? She invented inappropriate. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“All of it. For her tactless remarks about your health, for spouting the lurid details of her sex life around the flower market and for saying those things about Matt. I want to die, but then she’d take charge of my body and do something unspeakable with it.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” Paige slid her arm through her friend’s. “You’re not responsible for your mother.”
“I feel responsible.”
“Why? None of it is your fault.”
Wasn’t it? Frankie felt the familiar gnawing of guilt in the pit of her stomach. The truth was she felt responsible and always had.
When it had first happened she’d discovered that guilt could be so big it could swallow a person whole. She’d been paralyzed by indecision, not knowing what to do for the best. The only thing she’d been sure of was that she didn’t want to inflict her problems on anyone else.
Gradually, the guilt had faded, like a terrible wound that eventually heals but never quite goes away.
She went weeks, months even, when she never thought about it. And when she did think about it, usually in the dark hours of the night, she kept it to herself.
It wasn’t something she ever intended to share. Not even with her closest friends. The time for that was long past.
“Can you imagine if Matt had overheard that? I’d definitely have to move to Seattle. And I hate the way she calls us girls as if we’re all eight years old. I don’t think a woman of fifty-three should call herself a girl. There’s something undignified about it. Or delusional. I’m not sure which.” Struggling with emotion, she dived back into the store and rubbed her hand over her cheek. Her eyes and throat burned. “I can’t bear it. Another rich guy the same age as me. And why don’t these men ever say no?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not your problem.” Paige rubbed her arm gently, her voice warm with sympathy. “I’m sorry we bumped into her.”
“So am I. All she ever talks about is sex. She loves embarrassing me.”
“I don’t think she’s thinking about you at all. She’s thinking about herself.”
“Let’s change the subject. Talk about something. Anything.” Frankie focused on the bright blooms. Flowers always calmed her. Nature was never embarrassing. “Talk about you. Please. Or work. Work is good. As long as it’s not weddings.”
“Did I tell you we won that piece of business for New York fashion week? They emailed me late last night.”
“That’s a real coup. The event is in September?” Frankie made a huge effort to push her mother out of her head. Use it or lose it, she’d said.
Frankie had lost it. She’d definitely lost it.
“Yes. It will be our biggest event yet, so that’s a piece of good news.”
“That is good news.” Her heart was beginning to slow. The awful burning humiliation receded, but still the words remained. Use it or lose it.