Maybe This Time(13)

Right. I’d forgotten that the Mother’s Day Brunch always included a game of some sort. At the top of the page were the words: How strong is your mother/daughter bond? That title was followed by a list of questions, from favorite foods to favorite movies to nighttime rituals.

“So you answer one side for yourself and the other side for your mom, or daughter,” Caroline explained. “Then you match up answers. The team who gets the most right wins our annual prize.”

“Hank’s Barbecue gift certificate?”

“Of course.”

Because nothing says mother like a gift card for barbecue. But I couldn’t be too harsh. While my pick would’ve been a gift card to a spa, we didn’t have a spa in town. The closest thing we had was a nail salon and even that was a thirty-minute drive.

“Fun, right?” Caroline asked.

“Yes, that should be fun.” I handed her back the questionnaire.

She did a last-minute sweep, taking in the tables and flowers. “We have extra flowers in the van, right?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Good, because the food table could use a little something. Will you take the stems off a dozen sunflowers and place them strategically around the chafing dishes?”

I nodded.

The tall sunflowers sat in a big bucket in the back of the van. I pulled one out and turned it bloom down to cut off the stem, then set it off to the side. I retrieved another flower. I flipped it and smoothed the petals down. I twirled the stem, watching the petals extend like a little flower ballerina. An image twisted through my mind: a dozen ballerinas flitting across a stage in airy, bright yellow tulle skirts with yellow ballet slippers, ribbons twisting up their legs, the stage blanketed with flower petals. I shook my head; I was so easily distracted.

I finished the flower-beheading assignment and carried the fifteen sunflowers over to the food table, where Andrew and Micah were laughing about something.

“You did not,” Micah said.

“I did,” Andrew returned.

“Prove it.”

“What, you think I took pictures?” he asked.

“You take pictures of everything,” she said.

“Are you mocking my picture-taking skills?”

“No, your skills are solid. I’m mocking the sheer number that you take.”

“For work,” he protested.

“Whatever,” Micah said. “Soph.” She turned toward me.

I had laid out three flowers and was trying to decide if this was going to look good or cheesy. “What?”

“Vote.”

“On what?” Did she think I’d been following their conversation?

“Andrew said he stuck his tongue in one of these fuel canisters when it was lit.”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yes, what? You think he did? These things are like a million degrees. The fire is blue!”

“Yes,” I said again.

“See, she believes me,” Andrew said.

“I believe you are that stupid.”

Micah laughed but then sucked in her lips and said, “Soph, that was mean.” But then she laughed again.

“Thanks,” Andrew said to her. Then to me he said, “Is this what you call keeping to yourself?”

“Believe me, I’m trying.”

“How’d your mom like the gift?” Micah asked, changing the subject. She was excellent at avoiding conflict.

Micah and I had gone shopping the week before and thought it would be fun to pick out dresses for our moms to wear today. My mom wasn’t exactly a dress kind of woman so I’d picked her one that seemed more her style—not too fancy, but comfortable.

“She hasn’t opened it yet,” I said. “I left it on her bed with a note that she should open it before coming here.”

“Fun! I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Hopefully.” I couldn’t say why, but I felt anxious about it. “How about your mom?”

Micah grinned. “She was so happy with hers. She choked up when I gave it to her, but then tried to cover it up by saying she had a cough.”

I smiled. Mrs. Williams was so sweet.

“Cute necklace, by the way,” Micah said, leaning over the table to look at the pendant around my neck.

“Thanks, I got it at Everything.”

“What’s Everything?” Andrew asked.

Micah gasped. “You haven’t been to Everything?”

“No.”

Micah looked up as if she was trying to figure out how to explain the unexplainable. “It’s a store next to Sophie’s work that sells—”

“Mostly crap,” I said. “Other people’s crap.”

“Not just other people’s crap! You can also buy a gallon of milk there. Or a brand-new shovel.”

“So everything?” Andrew asked.

“Exactly!” Micah said.

I loved browsing through Everything. It was where I found half my jewelry and almost all the scrap material I used to design or embellish clothing. Because we were such a small town, the items there were never too picked over. People emptied their attics into Everything, and that’s where their attics stayed.

“Mom!” Micah called out, then went running around the tables and across the grass to throw her arms around her mom. Mrs. Williams was a short, curvy woman who Micah had shot past in the seventh grade. She had copper-brown skin and kept her black hair just an inch long, accentuating her strong cheekbones and brown eyes. She was wearing the dress Micah had given her—a knee-length green one. She looked beautiful.