Honestly not sure what I have to say about this one except a MASSIVE thank you to Laura for helping me wrangle this one in. Lots of cutting and rewriting. As usual, feedback is welcome and encouraged!
February: Part 1
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"Erica, how's that soup coming along?"
Jenna looked over her much shorter coworker's shoulder and to the pot of chowder simmering on the stove.
Erica smiled up at her while she stirred. "Almost done, I think."
"Excellent," Jenna affirmed. Then she turned to the man loading food into serving dishes and asked, "Ben, is everything else packed and ready to go?"
He pointed to the back door of the kitchen. "I've got Anthony and Cal hauling it into the truck now."
"I thought I had Cal on pulled pork for the Kinder wedding."
Ben shrugged. "He already had it done. Said he didn't want anyone touching his specialty."
Jenna sighed, but decided that productivity with a little unnecessary preciousness was better than Cal not working at all. He was an ass, but he was willing to put in his time and effort. Which, she had to admit, was crucial at the moment.
February had brought with it winter wedding season at Joe's. With so many couples setting their wedding dates close to Valentine's Day, weekends were requiring longer hours and more hands. Which meant Jenna was working Saturdays and seeing Sundays and Mondays as her weekends, and she was up to her eyeballs in schedules and pies.
And it was only Thursday.
It was days like this Joe asked her and Becky to take headway over the staff. Not that this was a new trend; she was actually beginning to miss the days when she could disappear to her corner of the kitchen to do the baking. But the way Joe saw it, his business was growing, and he needed people he could trust to keep everything running smoothly. Since he'd lost his favorite manager, Jenna and Becky had become his go-to ladies.
And that left her where she was now. Prepping for a day full of receptions and anticipating every possible emergency that could ensue.
Thank God the snow had let up for a couple of weeks.
Jenna was on her way out of the kitchen to look over the day's schedule to make sure they were on track when she heard her name from the double doors.
"Jenna!"
She whipped around to see white hair and a brown suit staring back at her. Joe hunched over his cane as he beckoned her over to him. He didn't look unhappy, exactly, Jenna noted. But he also wasn't smiling. Not that he usually did.
She scampered over to him, dodging her coworkers as they carried hotplates and pots.
"Joe!" she greeted him, trying to keep her tone enthusiastic, "I thought you were up in Richmond today."
"Eh, that was cancelled," he dismissed. "So, I decided to come down and make sure my restaurant was still in tact."
He took that moment to stare around the room, a critical eye on each person. Everyone was busy doing something. Despite the chaos of the day, they'd found a rhythm.
Cooks brought the food to those in charge of making sure they were in the serving dishes. Once the serving dishes were full, sealed, and labeled, and assembly line was formed to the back door to load the food into the truck. The staff had even started using a vocal form of shorthand to communicate. A well-oiled machine.
Joe could see it, too, because he lifted his eyebrows in surprised and observed, "Though you and Becky seem to have everything under control."
"Yeah," Cal called out. "If they weren't so damn bossy."
He was walking around the corner, emerging from his previous task. He stuffed the gloves he was wearing into his coat before slipping it off to hang over his shoulder.
Becky, who had been made privy to the conversation from where she stood coaching one of the new girls, looked up and yelled back, "Get off my dick today, Cal!"
"Get off mine first!"
"Here's an idea," Joe chimed in, "Why don't you both shut the hell up, act like professionals, and get back to work."
"Sorry, Joe," Becky called back.
Then, shamefully, Cal looked down at his feet and announced, "I'm taking my ten."
"Wise idea," Joe told him, pointing his cane at him. "Before you give all of us a headache."
Jenna and the older man watched him shuffle out the doors and away before turning back to the matter at hand.
"Alright, then," he began, giving her his full attention, "how many do we have today?"
"Four," Jenna told him. "Two are drop-off and self serve though, so I think it should work out pretty seamlessly."
He got that Joe twinkle in his eye as he lowered his glasses and said, "Now, don't get a big head about it or anything."
"Oh, no, of course not." Jenna tried not to grin at him as she played along.
Joe cleared his throat then, surveying the kitchen once more. He actively avoided making any eye contact with Jenna as he coyly added, "Keep this up, and I might have a new manager."
The second the words fell from his mouth, Jenna could feel the ball of stress and anxiety that had been sitting in her tummy all day, buzzing and jittering, let loose and explode. She turned around to stare across the kitchen at Becky, who was still heavily involved with the girl she was training. Patient, despite her sassy tendencies. Instructional. Thorough.
The idea of having to compete with her friend set her entire body, not just her stomach, in knots. And while Joe hadn't said he wouldn't hire two managers, she knew how tight he could hold onto a dollar. And between their experience and the work they'd both put in, Becky was just as qualified as, if not more than, she was.
He wasn't going to simply choose one or the other...surely. Was he? Not when he'd given them both so much trust and weight.
She wanted to protest. To ask if Becky was in consideration at all. But before she could say more, Joe was gone. Probably disappeared to his office.
With a sigh, she checked her watch. It was nearly time for the first load to be ready.
Joe would have to wait.
Around noon, Jenna managed to break from the pastries she'd had her hands deep in and the chaos of the kitchen. While Becky had hung back to talk to Cal, Jenna had gone on to the break room for lunch
She found Dawn at the table on her laptop, eating a sandwich while her attention was focused on the screen.
"Whatcha working on?" Jenna asked as she walked past, reaching into the fridge for the grocery bag she'd carried her lunch in.
"New logo," her friend replied. "I figured it's been ten years. We ought to spruce things up a bit."
Jenna, interest piqued, quickly took her seat next to Dawn. As she tried to look over her shoulder, however, Dawn turned the computer away.
"What?" Jenna asked, slightly hurt.
"It's not ready."
"So?" the strawberry blonde shrugged. "I'm not here to judge."
"I'm probably not gonna even show it to Joe," Dawn deflected. "He'll never take it."
Jenna crossed her arms. "And how do you know that?"
"Since when has he listened to any of my ideas?"
"Because you refuse to share them," Jenna argued.
Dawn deflated then, releasing a heavy breath. Finally, she said, "You're right." Then she looked at Jenna and revealed, "I just never think my ideas are any good."
"Well, maybe you can start with me," Jenna offered. "You're practically my sister. You know I'll have your back."
"Do you promise to be easy on me?"
Jenna cocked an eyebrow. "I promise to be truthful."
"Oh, god…"
"You don't want me to lie, do you?"
"No," Dawn grumbled.
Jenna pointed to the laptop. "Then, let's see it."
With a sigh, Dawn turned the device around to reveal Photoshop open. The image on the screen was crisp and professional. It read Joe's Catering & Events in sleek, cursive font. The words were the same leafy yellow-green as the outline of a fork and knife. She'd even incorporated chocolate brown and a light taupe into the design.
"Dawn, it's perfect!" she praised.
Dawn perked up. "You really think so?"
"Yes," Jenna insisted. "You need to show this to him."
"Show what to whom?"
Both women looked up to see Becky in the doorway. While she walked over to grab her lunch from the fridge, Jenna answered, "Dawn made a beautiful new logo."
"She's exaggerating," came her friend's insistence.
Becky swung her lunch pack from her fingers as she approached the table. "Can I see it?"
While she took her seat, Dawn turned the computer around again so her other friend could take a look. Becky seemed to scrutinize the screen for a moment, squinting and releasing a hmmm. She had Dawn on the edge of her seat.
"I love it," she stated simply. "It looks like a professional designed it."
"Exactly what I was thinking," Jenna chimed in.
Dawn chewed her lip nervously, eyes flicking back and forth between her two friends. "Do you think...if Joe likes it, that he might let me...run it on social media?" she asked. "Do you think he'd maybe let me take headway in giving us an online presence? Since we went independent, we've not kept up with a Facebook or an Instagram or anything."
"Do we even have a page?" Becky wondered.
Jenna nodded. "It's not had a post in almost three years. Everyone just calls or walks in."
"I think I could be amazing at it," Dawn said hopefully. "I just question how Joe would feel. But I wanna do more than field phone calls and meet with customers."
"Then you need to ask," Jenna encouraged. She placed a hand on her friend's shoulder and assured her, "If it makes you feel any better, I think he'll be thrilled with it."
"Me, too," Becky agreed, pulling her sandwich out of her lunch.
Jenna followed suit, taking a bite of food for the first time all day. She'd skipped breakfast and hadn't even realized how hungry she'd been. Now she had to stop herself from devouring turkey and provolone.
Dawn, meanwhile, ate the remnants of her lunch and picked at her bag of Skinny Pop.
"I guess I'll ask him at our next staff meeting," she said, finally allowing a proud smile spread across her cheeks.
Jenna was reeling when she pulled up to pick Lulu up from her after school program at 5:00. Joe's comment had been in her head all afternoon. She considered how long she, Becky, and Dawn had been working for him. How much time they'd all put in.
A decade. It was time for them to all take another huge step up.
She couldn't help but imagine what the company would be like if she and Becky were in charge with Dawn as their marketing strategist. They would be unstoppable, and Jenna knew that Joe knew this. That gave her hope that he would give them both management titles. And he would let Dawn take ship with advertising and social media.
But the thought that he might not give them the chance left her almost as stressed as the thought that he would. Because with elevation meant a higher pedestal to fall from. And after a long day of running around, making sure everything was ready for customers and that the staff was in order, neither idea was kosher.
She didn't have to dwell for too much longer, though. Because the second she put the car in park, Lulu was marching down the sidewalk to the car.
Jenna watched, noting the way her shoulders were slumped and her hand grasped too tightly to the bright pink sheet of paper she carried.
"Hi, baby girl," the mother greeted, trying to sound cheerful.
Lulu, however, was having none of it. "Hey," she mumbled, tossing her backpack at her feet as she slid into the passenger seat.
"What's wrong?" Jenna asked.
The girl shrugged and handed her the pink paper. Jenna took it and skimmed the contents.
"Valentine's Day party?" she asked, confused. Lulu normally loved anything that involved candy and time away from class.
The child took the paper back and complained, "It's so useless. Everyone gets so up in arms, and you can't give a valentine to anyone without someone getting the wrong idea."
"Isn't that why we buy them for the whole class?" Jenna pointed out.
"I really rather not," the child told her. "It's a lot of work, and they get thrown in the trash anyway."
Jenna put the car in gear and began to pull out. "How about cookies?" she suggested. "Everyone loves cookies."
Lulu groaned a disgusted ugh. "They have so many rules now, though. You can't bring homemade, and they can't have any kind of nuts in them."
"Then...maybe we can get the professionals at Joe's Catering to whip up a batch of chocolate and vanilla cupcakes," Jenna gave her a conspiratorial grin, wiggling her eyebrows.
Lulu gasped. "That's genius!" she declared. Then, eagerly, she requested, "Can we do pink, red, and white frosting with heart sprinkles?"
"You know it," Jenna promised. "I'll get Aunt Becky and Aunt Dawn to help me make them Wednesday."
Lulu leaned across the console and, trying not to disturb her mother's driving, wrapped her arms around her.
"Thank you, thank you!" she yelled excitedly.
Jenna giggled, "Well, you're very welcome." Then she added cheekily, "You act like I never do these things for you."
With that, they were on their merry way. Ready to call it a night.
Thursday evening passed by in a blur. Jenna thought she helped Lulu with order of operations homework. She also thought she was able to call and talk to Jim for a while.
Then Friday was nothing but pies, muffins, and cakes at Joe's. Becky and Dawn had barely been present, too consumed with bookkeeping and meeting with customers, leaving Jenna to go most of the day alone. She and Lulu had both conked our early when they got home, barely able to remember falling asleep.
Saturday found Jenna dropping Lulu at her friend Sarah's and heading back to work, overseeing on-site venue service with Becky at her side. With two weddings back to back, they were put on the later shift. Lunch time through dinner.
The afternoon wedding was their largest and most stressful. Three hundred guests in one of the smallest banquet halls in town. By 3:00, Jenna had listened to Becky and Cal bicker over pulled pork, and she'd prevented no less than four disasters involving hot mashed potatoes.
It took an hour to get the wedding party and every guest through the line for their first helping. By the time seconds came around, the serving had slowed down.
As Jenna was rounding a corner with a tray filled with peach cobbler, she found Becky and Cal at each other's throats again.
"Are you pissed off I'm in charge now?" she heard Becky ask him.
Cal bit back, "Hell, yeah, I am!"
"I thought you were supportive of this."
He towered over her and barked, "I was until you started telling me what to do."
"That's my job," Becky shoved a finger at his chest, "and if you don't like it, then you can go to hell. Or work somewhere else."
"Maybe I will," he challenged.
Thankfully, they were out of earshot of the guests. But before they could get any louder, Jenna cleared her throat.
The pair whipped their heads around to see her standing there. Cal chose not to say a word, instead reluctantly stomping over to take the pan from her hands and carry it back out to the banquet room.
Once he was gone, Becky shakily turned to her friend and said, "Jenna, I'm sorry,"
"It's okay," the strawberry blonde assured, gently placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "He's an ass."
The other woman looked like she could cry. Her lip trembled as she seethed, "I honestly don't know why I give him the time."
"Then don't," Jenna said plainly. "He doesn't deserve it. He doesn't deserve you."
"I know," Becky whispered. "But he's an asset to this company, and if I piss him off enough to walk out…"
She broke then. All but crumbled, pulling up a chair from a nearby table and placing her head in her hands while she sat. Jenna glanced around, satisfied they were alone in the empty side of the hall. She grabbed a chair of her own and brought it close to Becky, rubbing her back.
"Did Joe say something to you?" she asked carefully. "About hiring a new manager?"
Becky nodded and looked up through angry tears. "Weeks ago."
Jenna swallowed. "You think he'd blame you for this and not hire you?"
"I don't know," Becky cried. "I really don't. I'm just getting tired, and...I want more."
The statement gave Jenna pause. What was she supposed to say? Not that Joe had talked to her about the promotion, too, that was for sure.
So, she kept her own concerns under wraps and pointed out, "If you stay with Cal, you know you'll be miserable. If you let him go and he leaves, Joe's probably not going to think twice." She paused before asking, "Is Cal worth giving up an opportunity?"
Becky sat up and wiped her cheeks. "I guess not," she sniffled. "And who knows. Maybe he'll decide to look for other work. For the sake of this...whatever the hell we've got."
Jenna tucked a strand of dark hair behind her friend's ear. She couldn't assure her of anything, but she could offer, "Maybe he will. And maybe you should talk to him."
The other woman nodded. "I will." Then she picked herself up from her seat. When Jenna followed, she said, "Because honestly I don't know what to do with him, but I don't know what I'd do without him. If it weren't for all this," she explained, gesturing around the room at large, "things might actually work."
Jenna couldn't pretend to understand, but she embraced Becky, pulling her close in solidarity.
"Just promise me you'll make the best decision for you," she implored.
Her friend took a deep breath and tried to smile. "I will." Then, bringing back that Becky spirit, she smirked. "Besides...when have you ever known me to let a man dictate my life?"
"Never," Jenna concurred.
"Then I think I'll be okay."
"Good." Jenna reached over to adjust her friend's apron. "Now let's go make sure the guys don't screw up that cobbler. I worked for over an hour on it yesterday."
By the time Jenna picked Lulu up from Sarah's, it was after 8:00. After spending a solid fifteen minutes chatting with Sarah's mom Tiffany and trying to get the girls wrangled, then another twenty minutes to get home, it was 9:00.
In the midst of winding down for the night, Jenna got a text from Dawn. Did she and Lulu want to go to Richmond with her, Ogie, and the twins tomorrow? They would take the van.
Jenna replied and told her that, while she herself wasn't up for the journey, she would ask Lulu if she still wanted to go. The ten-year-old enthusiastically accepted, leaving Jenna's Sunday wide open.
Once Lulu had gone to bed, Jenna made a point to call Jim. Jim, her comfort and her shoulder. Her soundboard, and vice versa. He'd had a tiring, stressful week, himself. (Fourth six weeks midterms were due Tuesday, and none of his kids seemed to be on the ball with their homework.) The two talked on the phone for maybe ten minutes, until Jenna couldn't hold her eyes open anymore. At 2:00 that morning, she woke up to find her phone right next to her face on the pillow.
Hours and a deep sleep later, Jenna was getting Lulu up and ready to go. Once the child was off for her day out with the Anhorns, Jenna got herself cleaned up and made her way to Jim's. By 10:00, she was at his door with hot coffee and fresh croissants.
Coffee that would have to be reheated, however, since the couple was on each other the second Jenna stepped into the apartment.
Neither of them were interested in a leisurely dance between the sheets either. It had been a couple of weeks since they'd had proper alone time together and used it to their advantage. Even the last few poetry club nights had been quiet dinners and nothing else.
And after the weeks they'd both had, to say they were eager was...an understatement.
Less than an hour later found them both sweaty, panting, and sated. The comforter had been kicked off Jim's bed, and the base sheet had popped off one corner of the mattress. Jenna released a satisfied moan as she came down from her second high of the morning, and Jim rolled off of her. He lay next to her, smug grin on his face as he caught his breath.
"Feel better?" he asked.
She nodded, covering her face. "You have no fucking idea," she mumbled. "You?"
"God…" was all he could manage.
Jenna groaned, and lifted herself up. "I'll take that as a yes."
Then she was padding over to the bathroom to clean up. She made quick work of it, grabbing a hand towel and tossing it to Jim on her way back into the bedroom.
"We should relieve stress like that more often," he said matter-of-factly.
Jenna didn't miss the way he stared as she bent over to pick up her underwear and slide it on. Soon, he was up, tossing the towel into the hamper and pulling on his briefs.
"Can't say I disagree," she replied, picking her bra up from off the floor.
She barely got the straps on her shoulders before Jim was behind her, hooking it together. Jenna shivered as he brushed her hair aside and planted kisses across her back and up to her neck.
"I can do that myself," she admonished, her voice too breathy and wanton to be taken seriously.
He slipped his arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder and hands finding her sides. "I know that," he murmured. "I enjoy doing it. Almost as much as taking it off."
She craned her neck and twisted her body to come face to face with him. "You're incorrigible."
Then her lips were melting into his. She tried not to think too hard about his head between her thighs not twenty minutes ago. Or the way he'd begged and pleaded when she started to return the favor. Or round two, when he'd groaned her name into her ear when she'd asked him to go faster and more.
While they certainly had the time, Jenna's stomach was rumbling, and she could no longer ignore it.
So, pulling herself to her senses, she told him, "Let's finish getting dressed and go eat."
"But I'm not hungry," he protested. Then, kissing her neck and bringing his lips to her ear amended, "At least not for food."
She shoved a hand into his chest at that at pushed him back. "I brought you breakfast, and I won't have my efforts wasted."
Jim huffed melodramatically and exaggerated an eye roll. "Well, I guess, since you insist."
She snickered, and his lips upturned into a teasing grin. They both shuffled around the room, Jenna gathering her jeans and the sweater she'd thrown on that morning, and Jim gathering his khakis and button-down.
Jenna followed Jim out to the kitchen. As she felt the outside of the to-go cups full of coffee that sat on the counter, she questioned whether or not to bother heating the coffee up again. Coffee was never good reheated anyway.
Jim must have taken notice to her hesitance, because he walked past her and said, "I'll make a fresh pot."
"Thank you." She smiled gratefully at him as she reached for the bag with her buttery croissant.
He reached in the fridge for the bag of whole coffee beans he kept. "Life's too short for cold expensive coffee." He plugged in the grinder that sat on the counter and poured the beans into the top.
Jenna tried to ignore the loud whirring and watched the machine work its magic, turning them into fresh grounds.
Once the apartment was quiet again, she took a bite of her croissant and asked, "So, what's the special at Café Pomatter today, then?"
"French roast," he announced. Then pointed to the refrigerator, "And there's still sugar free hazelnut in there."
Jenna watched as he busied himself with preparing the coffee pot, then she hummed thoughtfully.
"Good sex and good coffee seem to be the common denominator when I come over," she observed. "I chose well."
"It's the little things," Jim noted, pouring water into the back of the coffee pot. "I'd say we've earned this after this last week."
Jenna nodded, tearing another flaky piece off of her pastry. "You're telling me. Did you finish getting those papers graded?"
"Unfortunately," he lamented. "I don't know what happened to that class, honestly. They were doing so well those first few weeks, even with the snow. But since last week, they've just...dropped the ball."
"Freshmen?"
He shook his head. "Juniors and seniors. It's probably just the second semester and the weather. Burnout is so easy."
Jenna nodded empathetically as she sat down on one of the stools at the counter. "Burnout sucks."
Jim clicked the coffee pot on and asked, "Kind of like at Joe's?"
"How did you guess?" she jibed. When he didn't respond, she continued, "It's been hell. Joe's put me and Becky in charge, but since he hasn't hired anyone to bake or keep finances, we're managing on top of our jobs."
"Do you think he's going to finally promote you?"
Jenna shrugged. "I hope." She bit her lip and fidgeted as she confided, "I'm just worried he's testing us. See who caves first so he can have an excuse to promote only one."
Jim scrunched his nose. "Wow. Stingy much?"
"The stingiest," Jenna agreed. Then with a sigh, she confessed, "I'm worried what'll happen if he does pick one or the other."
Him frowned sympathetically. "Surely you and Becky are stronger than a job or money," he attempted to encourage her.
"I'd like to think so," she told him. "And if it comes to that, I rather just let her have it. It means a lot to her, and I enjoy baking. We've both been working there for a decade, though…"
There was a pause while Jim reached out for her hand, observing her quietly. Then he asked, "Jenna, do you want that promotion?"
Jenna tried to breathe, to really be honest with herself. She wanted Becky to succeed. She wanted her friend to be recognized and valued, but…
"Yeah," she whispered. "I do."
"And will Becky be happy for you if you get it?"
Jenna nodded. "I think so."
Then Jim tested, "Will you be happy for her if she gets it?"
Again, she nodded. "Absolutely. She's a natural leader."
"Then it's not up to you," Jim told her. "You just have to do the best work you can and let Joe decide."
Jenna chewed on that for a minute. He was right. Nothing could get in the way of the friendship-no sisterhood-she shared with Becky. And as long as Jenna wasn't trying to step in the way or manipulate, she had no reason to feel bad if Joe wanted her instead.
But she still hoped he would see sense and let them work as a team. They were always better as a team.
"I sure hope you're right," she told Jim.
At that, he brought her hand up to his lips, giving it a peck before letting go to serve the coffee that was nearly ready. He grabbed two mugs hanging from the rack on the wall above the counter, then made quick work of grabbing Jenna's creamer from the fridge. Soon, he was setting fresh coffee in front of her.
God bless him.
A few sips of coffee later, and she was ready to switch gears. To focus on more positive things.
"So," she began, taking the last bite of her croissant, "what are we doing for Valentine's Day? Are we doing anything at all?"
Jim leaned against the counter, his face screwing up in concentration. "To be honest? I'm not big on it."
"You aren't?" she asked, relief settling her chest. She'd been dreading the idea of prancing around for some fake holiday for weeks. So, when he nodded, she breathed, "Thank God. It's so unnecessary."
"So, does that mean we're skipping out completely?" he asked, "Because, I like the idea of at least going out. Just the two of us. It doesn't have to be a big deal."
Jenna sipped her coffee. "I could agree to that. If I can come up with a plausible story for Lulu."
There was a pause while Jim took a long swig of his drink. He stared off as though he had something on his mind. As though he had an idea. Jenna was about to ask him exactly what his idea was when he spoke up.
"What if," he began slowly, "and this is just an idea...what if we just...told her?"
His eyes feel to her wide and uncertain, like he'd just thrown a dart blindfolded and was waiting to see where it landed. His shoulders were sunk, and he started to look away, about to take back what he'd just suggested.
Only Jenna couldn't bring herself to disagree this time. If anything, she didn't have to explain the relationship. It made perfect sense that she could have a date for Valentine's Day. Lulu didn't understand the intricacies of adult relationships yet, and she didn't have to know that Jenna and Jim were far more entangled than a single date.
So, before Jim could change his mind, Jenna told him, "I think you're right."
She watched the lights turn on in his eyes at that. Saw uncertainty change to hope, delight. "So, we're finally doing it? We're telling her?"
She took a long drink before responding, "It's the best opportunity we have. She needs to know."
"Well, if you're ready, I'm ready," he told her, reaching out.
Then they were gravitating toward one another, embracing one another. "I'm ready," she assured him.
Sunday evening found Jenna picking up Lulu at Dawn and Ogie's. Her afternoon with Jim had slowed down to trading sections of the newspaper, conversation, listening to soft music, and a leisurely, almost tender round three on the couch.
By the time she arrived at the Anhorn's, she felt brand new. Glowing.
Lulu seemed to have had a good day as well. Despite a long day of travel for the kids, Jenna found the girl laughing and playing Uno with the twins in the kitchen.
"Hi, mom!" she smiled brightly and waved.
Mikey was the first of the twins to speak up. "Hey, Auntie Jenna!" he called out, flashing a nearly toothless grin.
"Wanna play with us?" AJ piped up.
Jenna shook her head. "I would, but Lulu and I can only stay for a few minutes."
"And it's almost dinner time," Dawn called from behind the counter.
She and Ogie were passing ingredients and utensils back and forth, sharing the work, chatting idly.
"I lost another baby tooth," Mikey announced, opening his mouth wide and pointing to a new hole between the teeth toward the back of the bottom set. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of single dollar bills. "Tooth Fairy's made me rich."
Jenna grinned. "Better be careful, or she might go bankrupt."
Then she turned to make eye contact with Dawn, who gave her a little wink from across the kitchen.
"Do we have to go?" Lulu asked, putting on the puppy dog eyes. "We're having a good time."
"School tomorrow," Jenna reminded her, prompting the child to lay her cards down and stand up. "Maybe we can have them over next Sunday, though?"
She looked over at Dawn and Ogie for confirmation. The couple exchanged a look and nodded at each other.
"We'd be tickled to," Ogie told her, earning cheers from the children. Then he inquired, "Might there be some lemon meringue pie involved?"
Jenna laughed. "I think I can manage that." Then she stared pointedly at her friend and stipulated, "As long as Dawn shares her logo with Joe at our staff meeting Tuesday."
Dawn looked up from the stir-fry she was tending to and shot Jenna an incredulous look. "I said I would, didn't I?"
"You did," Jenna confirmed. Then she addressed Ogie, "Not sure if she's showed you what she's been working on, but it's beautiful."
"Oh, she has," Ogie beamed at his wife proudly. "I've surely been blessed with a talented lady."
Jenna watched her friend blush and grin sheepishly as the man sweetly kissed her cheek. All three kids gave disgusted groans, and Jenna had to stop herself from giggling.
They would all eventually understand.
"What do you call this one?"
Jenna glanced up from the chocolate mousse she was fluffing to look at her daughter. She handed Lulu the rubber spatula and lifted the bowl above the pan filled with an Oreo cookie crust
"Falling in Love Pie," she said while Lulu began pouring the mousse into the pan.
The two had become ambitious after dinner and decided pie was in order. While they wouldn't get to eat any tonight since it had to chill, it gave them something to look forward to for dessert the next day.
Once the mousse was in the pan and Jenna was spreading it, Lulu stuck a finger into the bowl to sample the chocolate.
Ignoring her mother's scrutinizing grimace, she asked, "When did you come up with this one?"
"Hmmm, let's see…" Jenna considered, trying to recall. It had been so long. "I think I was about thirteen," she said. Lulu rested her elbows on the counter, leaning in and listening intently. Jenna continued the tale, "I had a mad crush on this boy named Ryan Sterling, and I thought if I made him a pie he would like me."
"Did he?" the ten-year-old asked eagerly.
Jenna chuckled and shook her head. "Not a chance," she sighed. "I brought him a slice and his response was, 'Aw cool, man!'"
Lulu giggled at the way Jenna brought her voice down a few octaves and screwed up her face, putting on her best impression of an obtuse teenage boy.
The girl stood on her tiptoes then. "So, what did you do?"
Jenna grinned as she reached for homemade whipped cream and began swirling it at regular intervals around the pie. "I brought his best friend a slice the next day, asked him out, and ended up kissing him on the bus right where Ryan could see."
Lulu's eyes grew wide, scandalized. "Mom, you didn't!"
"I did," Jenna snickered.
Except when she looked over at her young, impressionable daughter, she suddenly had a distinct image of her pulling the same shit, and had to rescind.
"Not that I'm proud of it," she said, trying to straighten her face up. "That's one way I do not encourage you to be like me. I was way too young, and it didn't help me a bit."
Lulu rolled her eyes. "I don't even care about dating yet."
Jenna cleared her throat and focused on the dark chocolate she was now shaving over the pie. "Good. You're not allowed to yet anyway."
She passed the jar of Maraschino cherries to the child, letting her take the stems off and place them on the dollops of whipped cream.
"So, when am I allowed to date, though?" she asked, still focused on her task.
Jenna swallowed. She hadn't actually thought of that. Damn this child's ability to ask the tough questions…
"Well," she began, contemplating. Then she added a teasing edge to her voice as she said, "I was twenty-two when I had you. And I know it's closer to twenty, but we're gonna round that up, so let's say that's thirty. Then add another ten years to be safe, and you get...forty. You can date when you're forty."
The child glared at her and placed her hands on her hips. "Mom…"
"Okay, okay," Jenna conceded. She picked up the pie and carried it over to the fridge. "That's pretty extreme."
She set the pie in an empty space on one of the shelves and shut the door slowly, trying to buy herself some time for an answer. She chewed on her lip as she picked up the bowls and utensils laid out on the counter.
"You can date..." she began, carrying the bowls to the sink. Was there really an age? She turned on the water to let the dishes soak, then looked back at Lulu. The ten-year-old was leaning back against the island counter, staring at her expectantly.
"You can date when you show me you're emotionally mature enough to handle it," she stated. It was a fair enough stipulation. "Until you become an adult, at least. Then it's up to you."
Lulu furrowed her brow, thinking hard. "How will I know when I'm emotionally mature enough?"
Yet another question Jenna had to consider.
She thought back to the boys she'd dated in high school. Thought about how eager she'd been to please at fifteen, and how shitty she felt when the boy she'd lost her virginity to had strung her along for months before dumping her for another girl. Thought back to catching her junior prom date with his pants down in a closet, a girl she thought had been her friend on her knees in front of him. Thought back to her senior year, when her first serious boyfriend had been courteous enough to break up with her in person, but had given the I just think I need to focus on college excuse, only to be caught talking about her like a dog a week later. ("She's a good fuck, but god, she's a drag," were the exact words Becky reported when she'd been brought to the principal's office for punching him in the face, barely lucky that they were both still minors.)
Then she thought back to Earl. Earl, who she'd settled for. Earl who seemed decent enough with his music, vague broodiness, and seemingly adventurous spirit. Until Lulu came along, and Jenna had to lose the rose-colored goggles.
While she couldn't regret her path, it certainly wasn't one she wished for her daughter.
Her daughter, who stood in front of her with her red curls tucked up into a ponytail. Whose heart and mind consisted of poetry, art, books, math, videogames, Catan, and pie. Who knew only the bare minimum of the facts of life because of a conversation that started with her having to write the definition of "reproduction" for her science vocabulary. Her daughter who still had no idea what a broken heart felt like, and hopefully had years before she would.
Jenna knew she couldn't protect her forever, couldn't keep her sheltered. But any hurt or abuse she could prevent in Lulu's life was a victory for her as a mother.
The question still remained, though: when would Lulu know she was emotionally mature enough to handle dating and relationships?
Jenna went with her gut, relying on the sum of her experiences for what she'd learned in nearly 33 years of life, and finally answered, "When you can recognize your own worth and you can tell the difference between someone who fully recognizes it too, and someone who doesn't."
Lulu frowned at that, looking down at the floor while she let the information process. There was a long pause while Jenna waited for a response or more questions.
Finally, the girl said, "I still don't really get it, but I guess I will eventually."
The older woman nodded and pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead. "You will. But right now, it's important that you focus on just being you."
She watched the smile return to her daughter's face at that. Acceptance that she still had a while before she had to worry about these things; relief that, even though she was free to ask questions about concepts beyond her understanding, she had permission to just...be a kid.
Jenna thought she might cry when Lulu's next question was, "Will you help me with my reading homework?"
Jenna had Monday off. While Lulu was at school, Jim was working, and the girls were off trying to catch up on their own lives, she took the chance to clean her house and spend as much quiet time as the day could afford her.
Jim called her during his lunch time, and she ended up asking him if he would join her and Lulu for dinner. After all, the pie sitting in her fridge couldn't go to waste.
Since their pillow fort in the living room, they'd made it a point at least once a week to have him over. It wasn't uncommon for Lulu to ask Jenna when they would see Jim again, either.
So, naturally, when Jenna picked Lulu up from school at 3:00 and told her they were having company, the child's exhaustion from a rough day in the 5th grade disappeared. Jenna couldn't get a word in edgewise the entire ride home. When they made it back, Lulu was bouncing around, asking what they were having for dinner and if Jim might want to try Forbidden Desert, and if she had time to play Splatoon before he arrived.
When Jim rang the doorbell at 6:00, Lulu was the one to greet him.
"I've got it!" she yelled, running across the house while Jenna had her hands full in the kitchen.
A moment later, she heard a familiar voice call, "Hey, kiddo!"
Lulu's voice followed, informing him, "Mom's in there."
Jenna gave the veggies on the stove quick stir, just in time for the oven to beep. When Jim walked into the kitchen, she was gingerly pulling open the foil that covered fresh lemon pepper salmon.
"Something smells delicious," he remarked.
Lulu, who trailed close behind him, announced, "There's pie, too."
"Falling In Love Pie," Jenna clarified, eyes making direct contact with Jim's.
He flashed a quick wink at her before trying his best to keep a straight face as he responded, "I can't wait."
Jenna had to turn her head away to hide the giddy smile she couldn't stop from spreading across her face. Thankfully, she had her daughter to distract her.
"Can I go ahead and set the table?" Lulu asked
"Yes, ma'am," Jenna replied. Then she beckoned toward the dishwasher. "Clean dishes are in there."
The child got busy, stacking plates, forks and cups. While she began laying them out on the table, Jim stepped closer.
"Anything I can do?" he asked.
Jenna pointed to the rice cooker, on the counter behind her and told him, "You can stir that and find a serving dish. It should be done."
"On it now."
As he jumped straight into his task, it was everything Jenna could do not to kiss him.
Next to her, Lulu cleared her throat a little too loudly. Jenna whipped around to look at her, only to find the child smirking. Like she knew.
Jenna arched an eyebrow at her. Universal signal for, "Are you sure you wanna go there?"
Silently, the child shrugged and turned to pull the pitcher of iced tea that they'd made a couple of hours ago from the fridge. And Jenna tried not to dwell on the smug satisfaction her daughter would have when she found out she was right.
"Falling In Love Pie?"
An hour later, while Lulu was in the living room engrossed in a Mario Kart Grand Prix, Jim found Jenna in the kitchen. She had dessert plates out and was slicing the chocolate mousse confection.
"Yeah," she said, then teased, "and what about it?"
He shrugged. "I think it's fitting."
"It's supposed to be. Here," she beckoned him, pressing a fork into one of the slices and holding it out. "Come tell me if I got it right. I haven't made it in a while."
"I guess I can sacrifice and play the guinea pig," he joked.
Jenna rolled her eyes. "It must be such a chore."
"Oh, definitely."
They laughed, before Jenna was bringing the pie to his mouth. She watched him chew for a moment before closing his eyes and moaning. After a moment, he was staring at her, bewildered.
"How the hell do you do it?" he asked.
"Do what?"
"That," he insisted, pointing at the pie tin on the counter. "That's-that's heaven. Here…"
He picked up a clean fork from a different plate, and sunk it into the untouched slice it sat next to. Then he held it up to Jenna, who humored him and took the bite.
"Mmmm," she hummed appreciatively. "I didn't do too bad."
She and Jim were gravitating closer then. She'd long set her fork down, and he was doing the same. He stepped into her space, and she let him, finding herself reaching out. His arms found her waist, enveloping her in their warmth.
"You're amazing," he murmured. And she knew he wasn't just talking about the pie.
Soon, her lips were finding his, and she was melting into him. Feeling more and more at home each time he kissed her like this. There was something about the tender way he held her. Something about how soft his lips were. How intentional he was.
She was getting lost, forgetting that she had a ten-year-old daughter in the next room. Forgetting everything except Jim.
But she was soon reminded by the glass shattering sound of Lulu's voice in the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, my god…"
The couple tore themselves from one another. Jenna expected a loud "I told you so!" Or an, "I knew it!"
What she hadn't expected was the sheer look of betrayal on her daughter's face. Disappointment. Lulu stared dumbfounded for a moment, not speaking. Then she sputtered, as though she had something to say.
Except she never got it out, instead opting to stomp out of the kitchen and toward her bedroom.
"Shit," Jenna whispered. Then called out, "Lulu!"
She made the mistake of looking back at Jim. He was trying to pretend he wasn't feeling anything, but she could see the way his eyes dimmed. She could see his shoulders hunch, a six-and-half-foot man reduced to mere inches.
Jenna swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm the sudden pounding in her chest.
What the hell had she done?