Say It's Not Fake

Her face was flushed, and I surmised that the glass of wine wasn’t her first. Which was a fair assumption, given the almost empty bottle between them.

Both of them glanced up at me. Clearly, I had interrupted something. I looked from Mom to the man, trying to place him. He was what most women would call a silver fox. Even though he was older, I could admit he was a handsome man. And it was obvious from my mother’s girlish giggling—which was really, really odd—that she agreed. Huh.

“Oh hi, Whitney! I didn’t realize you’d be home already.” Mom sat up a little straighter, her eyes flicking to the man. “You remember Leonard Ship, your father’s friend from the basketball league? They knew each other for years. He bought the house across the street. The Vaughn’s house. He came by with some strawberries from the bushes in the garden. Wasn’t that nice?” She was rambling. And flustered. The entire situation was like something out of the Twilight Zone.

Leonard got to his feet and held out his hand, and I took it a little reluctantly. I wasn’t naive enough to think my mother would never look at another man again after Dad died, but I could also admit that it felt strange. And truthfully, not in a good way. I wanted my mother to be happy, but ...

“Little Whitney. You sure have grown up. You’re just as beautiful as your mother.” Even though it was a total line, Leonard didn’t come across as sleazy, or just trying to get in my mother’s pants. Yeah, I shuddered a bit at the thought.

My mother giggled again. “Stop it, Leo. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

It felt like I was witnessing a senior’s dating reality show.

I quickly extracted my hand from Leonard’s warm grip. “I think I remember you. Sorry, it’s been a long time since I was forced to sit on the sidelines of Dad’s games.” I tried smiling, though it felt strained. These were unchartered waters, and I was completely clueless on how to proceed. And I was super uncomfortable.

“Your dad was a dear friend. I was at the funeral, but I’m sure you don’t remember me. There were so many people there. David was well-loved.” He gave my mother a kind smile that she seemed to eat up with a spoon. He then swung the smile my way, and it turned a bit sheepish. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I see you’ve just gotten home from work. I hadn’t planned to stay so long, but I must confess I’m enjoying the company. It’s been lonely since my wife, Clara, died last year.”

He was a widower. This made it official. There were definite pheromones flying.

Mom’s face grew serious. “Clara is truly missed, Leo. She was such a special woman.” And she meant it too. My mother loved most everyone. And everyone loved her.

I watched as my mother reached out to put her hand over Leonard’s. They looked at each other with understanding and maybe something else.

Definitely something else.

Mom looked up at me. “I’ve invited Leo to stay for dinner. I thought about ordering Chinese takeout. Would you care to join us?”

Nope. Nope. Nope. I wasn’t sad enough to spend my evening watching my mother having more of a social life than I had had in years.

“Actually, I’m just here to get changed.” I cut her off quickly. “I think I’m going to head out for a drink. Maybe see who’s at Sweet Lila’s.”

Mom seemed surprised—and relieved. Which was understandable. I knew she had been worrying about me since I had moved back to Southport. Aside from Meg and Adam, I hadn’t spent time with many other people. There was the occasional family gathering that included the Decates and various other friends, but they were few and far between. The truth was I had purposefully kept to myself because while I had missed the comforting familiarity of Southport and the good memories I had here, I wasn’t keen to reintroduce myself to the gossip mill.

I knew I was already the talk of the town the moment I moved back. I had been peppered with questions about why I came home, considering I had such a rewarding career as a Hollywood makeup artist. I was a Southport success story. Yet here I was—buying my parents’ house and working as a receptionist at my brother-in-law’s law firm. I didn’t have Meg’s excuse of being in love and wanting to start a family. No one could figure out why I’d leave the excitement of the west coast for hole-in-the-wall Pennsylvania.

It was almost like I was running from something.

The less I gave people something to talk about, the better. So, I had stuck to myself.

But needs must be met and all that.

“That sounds great. Maybe give your sister a call,” Mom suggested.