Déjà Date Read Online Free Page B

show her that change could be good. Then she could change out of those dreadful sweats, which I deeply believed belonged in the garbage can.
    The front door opened, and my eyes widened in shock. “Mom . . .?”
    “Hello, Melinda.” She smiled, and I resisted the urge to pinch myself. Instead of sweats, she wore a peacock-blue button-up blouse, white pants, and the pearl necklace that had belonged to my grandmother. Her hair was the lovely ash blonde her hair-stylist favored, only she wore it down instead of pulled back. “I’m glad you were available to come over this morning. I have a lot I need to discuss with you.”
    “You look so different,” I blurted out, then realized that was the understatement of the year. This was not the same woman whose sweat suit had seemed permanently plastered to her body, nor was this the same woman from my childhood who had preferred neutral colors and wearing her hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. My mom had completely transformed.
    “Well, I should hope I look different. I’ve been going to therapy twice a week for almost two months.”
    My eyes welled with tears. “You’ve been seeing a therapist?”
    “What else could I do when my daughter seemed worried about me?” She pulled me into a hug so strong and comforting that I wanted to bury my head into her shoulder like I’d done when I was little. “I’ve had a hard time letting your dad go, sweetheart.”
    When she released me, I shifted my stance on the foyer’s marble floor. “And now?”
    She smiled wistfully. “I’ll always love him, but I have to start living my life again. In that regard, I have a few important matters to talk about with you. Let’s sit in the family room. I’ve made us some coffee.”
    “Before I forget . . .” I handed her the basket of baked goods. “Bernie asked me to bring these to you. I just came from the bakery.”
    “How thoughtful.” Her eyes lit up as she lifted the brown and white–checkered cloth and peeked inside. Knowing Bernie, they were all of my mom’s favorites. Zucchini bread. Almond croissants. Carrot cake. She laced her arm through mine, then led me toward the family room. “How is Bernie?”
    We passed by the grandfather clock next to the staircase, which began to chime the ninth hour, then we stepped into the family room. Numerous ceramic hot air balloons cheerfully occupied shelves around the room, each balloon and basket hand-painted in a unique color pattern by my mom. On a table in the corner of the room sat a ceramic urn with tiny hot air balloons painted around its middle. Inside the urn were my dad’s ashes.
    Having his remains here had creeped me out at first, but I’d grown used to saying hi to Dad when I came in the room. I touched the hot air balloon urn lightly with the tips of my fingers, my throat tightening a bit before I remembered my mom had asked about Bernie.
    I faced her, and swallowed. “Bernie’s not well, actually.”
    Her brows knitted together as she stopped beside the buffet table. “What do you mean he’s not well?”
    “It’s pretty serious.” I didn’t want to sugar coat it, but I felt bad that her expression had changed from relaxed to worried. “His doctor advised him to stop working and rest for two weeks due to heart palpitations. It’s so serious that even Nate is back in town.” Looking hotter than ever , I thought, but obviously didn’t say aloud.
    She set the basket of baked goods on the buffet table, next to her rose-patterned china coffee pot and matching coffee cups and saucers. “I need to call Bernie,” she said.
    “I’m sure he’d like that.” I pushed the image of Nate out of my mind and sat down on the sofa. I twisted my hands together, nervous about what I was bringing up next. “There’s something else I want to tell you. It’s kind of a huge decision I’ve made, actually.”
    My mom continued to stare at the wicker basket on the mahogany buffet table as if she hadn’t heard