A Different Kind of Forever - By Dee Ernst Page 0,8

cooking? I’m famished.”

“Lemon chicken,” Emily called from the kitchen. “With noodles. There’s something here for you.”

Diane walked back to the kitchen. Emily was there, stirring something in a frying pan. Megan was diligently dipping chicken breasts into egg and bread crumbs.

“What are you talking about?” Diane asked, giving Megan a quick hug.

“Some guy dropped this off,” said Emily handing over a large manila envelope. Diane opened the clasp and emptied the contents onto the counter. There was a long white envelope and a number of white badges on black cords. She fumbled in her purse to find her glasses. She picked up a badge. Fleet Bank Arena Guest Pass. She turned it over. The NinetySeven logo. Double Dutch Tour.

“What is it?” Emily asked. “Did we win the lottery?”

“No.” Diane said in amazement. “Tickets to the concert, and back-stage passes.”

The girls both screamed. Megan grabbed the badge from Diane’s hand.

“Mom, how did this happen? Did you win the radio contest?”

“No.” Diane had opened the envelope. “I met Mickey Flynn in the park.” There were eight tickets inside, and a note on plain white paper. Emily read over her mother’s shoulder.

“Hey Diane, here are tickets and passes. Show your stubs to security and they will take you up to the VIP section. You should ask them to escort you back stage as well. Things get crazy after the show and I’d hate for you to be wandering around in all that madness. Michael.” Emily clutched the note in both hands. “Oh, Mom, eight tickets? Can I ask Allie? And Chloe? And Jordan?”

“You may each ask the Griffen girls and one other friend.” They both ran out of the kitchen, shrieking. “When you call Allie or Becca, I want to talk to Sue,” Diane called after them. She stood in her small, warm kitchen, smiling to herself, the black mood gone. She took a deep breath, pulled off her jacket and turned to the chicken, abandoned on the counter. He had done it.

She nodded her head to some unseen melody, sliding the chicken into the olive oil, checking to see if the large pot of water was boiling. She began the automatic motions of coming home – into the bedroom to take off her shoes, on to the den to dump her books and briefcase, then back to the kitchen. She checked her pots and pulled dishes from the cabinet.

There was a clamor at the front door – Alison Griffen and her sister Rebecca were calling, running upstairs. Moments later, Sue Griffen came into the kitchen. She was tiny, short and slender with wild dark curls shot with gray. She leaned her hip against the counter and picked up one of the badges.

“You got these tickets how?” she asked.

“I met Mickey Flynn in Bloomfield Park. Michael. His dog stole my pastrami sandwich. He felt bad and sent them over.”

“His dog stole your pastrami?” Sue echoed. “Holy shit. Are you kidding?”

Diane giggled. “No. It was hysterical. I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants.”

There was more pounding of footsteps and all four girls crowded into the kitchen. Emily now had a serious look on her face.

“Mom, tell us everything that happened. You actually met him? Mickey?”

Diane turned down the heat under her dinner and took a breath. “Michael. I was having lunch in Bloomfield, over by the duck pond. He was there with his dog, which is huge, by the way, and the dog must have smelled my pastrami sandwich and raced over. I jumped up on the picnic table. The dog grabbed the sandwich from my hand. Michael was very sorry and offered the tickets as an apology. End of story.”

The girls were staring at her, open-mouthed.

“Oh, Mrs. Matthews,” Alison breathed. “Was he nice?”

“Yes, he was very nice. Charming.” Diane leaned close in to Alison. “He had charisma.”

Alison sighed and closed her eyes. “Charisma,” she repeated. Her eyes flew open. “What was he wearing?”

Sue rolled her eyes and started to speak, but Diane looked thoughtful.

“Well, he had on jeans, and a white polo shirt, you know, the kind with buttons at the neck?” The girls were all staring, nodding. “And black sneakers, and his hair was cut short, not a buzz cut or anything, but short, and he had some kind of string bracelet thing on, and a silver chain around his neck. And a very expensive watch.”

“Was he hot?” Alison asked.

“Allie!” Sue admonished.

Diane nodded. “Very hot.”

“Mom,” Emily sighed.

“What? He was hot. Not very tall, but adorable.” She leaned into Alison