but I won’t. “Do you want to write something in the Advice for Parents book you got for Lindsey?” I hold it up for her to see. “I can write down a message, then you can sign it.”
She motions affirmatively, and I grab a pen. “I want to say…” I sit beside her, pen suspended above the page. “Hmm, I want to say…” She looks up at the ceiling and yawns. “I want to say, ‘I like you more than Wynonna.’ ”
“That’s it?”
“Yep. She never steals my shoes or tries to kill me.”
“Any advice about having a baby?”
“No.”
“Okay…” I write it down, and Mom signs it. She obviously doesn’t understand the concept behind the book, but, hey, at least she had something nice to say. I return to the table across the room and grab a garbage bag. “Mom, do you know where Lindsey and Jim are?” I ask as I throw away dirty plates and cups.
“No. Where?”
“No. Do you know— Never mind. It’s an hour past the time you usually take a nap.”
“I don’t need a goddamn nap!”
“Okaaay. Just thought you’d like to know.”
She thinks about it for a moment, then scoots to the edge of the sofa. “I need my rest.”
Simon holds out his hand for her. “Here you go.”
“Thank you, foxy man.”
“Have a good rest, Ms. Patricia.”
She winks at him. “I’ll be good as new.”
I drop the garbage bag and walk with Mom from the room, but halfway down the hall she stops. “I forgot something,” she says, and retraces her steps.
I can hear her muffled voice and the deep timbre of his laughter. I don’t even want to imagine what she might be proposing, but she’s smiling and has a Little Peanut party box when she comes back.
“Did you have a good time today?” I ask Mom as we continue to her room.
“Oh yes. That was a good cake,” she says, and sets the favor box on her side table.
“The frosting was excellent.” She sits on the side of the bed, and I kneel down to take off her white orthopedic shoes. “You have a birthday in about six weeks. We should get your cake from the same place.”
“Carrot,” she says. “Carrot cake is my favorite.”
Until half a second ago, her favorite has always been angel food with fresh strawberries. I put her shoes to one side and stand. “Do you need anything?”
She lies down on one pillow and puts a hand on her stomach. “Just go out and shut the door.”
Rude, but I don’t take it personally. When I return to the parlor, Simon is stuffing the last of the wrapping paper into the garbage bag. “You don’t have to do that.” I pick up the remaining dirty plates and dump them with the used paper.
“Lindsey and Jim just left to look over a car in Slidell that Lindsey found on Craigslist. They shouldn’t be gone more than a couple of hours.” He ties the bag closed and looks at me. “Is your momma settled?”
“I think so, but with you here, who knows? She might suddenly remember something else.” I tie the bag and grab a bottle from the ice bucket. “Wine?”
“Been that kind of day?”
Raphael laughs from his cage. “I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
“That’s enough, Ray-feel.”
Simon gets the birdcage cover as I fill two Little Peanut cups with a Washington Chablis.
“Good night, Raphael,” I say, and hand Simon a blue elephant cup. “Cheers.” I tap my cup to his and give my wine a little swirl for good measure before I take a sip. “Mm, that’s good.”
“I like a good wine but…” He looks into his elephant cup. “Do I have to swirl and smell it?”
I chuckle. “No, but my agent, Margie, is a real connoisseur, and it’s kind of funny to watch her do her thing. She inhales as she takes a sip and kind of swishes it around in her mouth before spitting it in a bucket.”
“Do you do that?”
“No, I’m not a connoisseur. I don’t spit.” I shake my head. “I swallow.”
22
There aren’t words.
THE DOUBLE meaning of my words hangs in the air as a red-hot flush works its way up my chest to my cheeks.
“Good to know.” There’s laughter in Simon’s voice, but thank God he’s a grown-up. “I’ll remember that if I’m ever at a fancy wine tasting.”
I clear my throat as if nothing happened and we settle on the chesterfield. “I think Lindsey had a good time.”
Simon takes a drink of wine from his elephant cup and