A/N: Thanks so much for your wonderful thoughts! Slowly trying to get back to you guys while updating again!
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. As are all mistakes.
Chapter 6 – Then Came the Text From Hell
About a week later and a week before Ness is due for her sonogram, I'm at the market, situating my items on the conveyor belt. When my phone beeps with a text, I pull it from my bag, only intending to check who it's from and reply once I've checked out. I'm next in line, and I sure as hell don't want to be one of those annoying people who play with their phones while on the checkout line.
Then, I read this:
Bella, I'm in Newport Beach. I was wondering if you have time to meet for lunch. I'm available until 2 p.m., after which I have to return to L.A. for a 4 p.m. Let me know asap. Thanks.
"Mother fuck."
"Excuse me, ma'am?" The teenaged checkout boy, who's already begun scanning my items, stops and stares at me through wide-eyes.
"Uh…sorry. I forgot tomatoes."
"Oh. Would you like me to wait until you grab some?" he asks.
The consumer behind me sucks his teeth and sighs.
"Lady, maybe if you got off your phone and focused on what you're doing, you wouldn't forget items, and thereby hold up the rest of us, who have lives to lead."
Shoving my phone back in my bag, I pivot and glare at the guy.
"You want to talk about lives to lead, Mr.? Do you? Because you have no idea, no idea whatsoever of all the crap going down in my life since I turned forty-five. And you have no idea who this text is from or what it says, so please don't judge without all the facts. For all you know, sir, this text here could be informing me that the planet is about to explode, and I could've been about to spin around and let you know so that you wouldn't waste your money on your purchase of…" – I look down at his items behind mine on the conveyor – "bread, deli products, and mayo."
The guy raises a dubious eyebrow. "Does the text say the planet is about to explode?"
"Well now, you'll have to wait and see, won't you? Enjoy your sandwich, sir." Then, I swing back around and pick up my reusable shopping bag, ready to stomp out with my head held high.
"Uh, ma'am, you didn't pay for that!" the checkout boy calls out.
OOOOOOOOOO
I take prodigious care and put a hell of a lot of thought into the proper placement of my few items into the car's trunk. Then I slowly walk toward the driver's side, carefully opening the door so that I don't accidentally hit the vehicle next to me. I smooth down my pants before climbing in. When I take my seat and shut the door, I watch the late morning sun shine over the parking lot – the moms with their kids, pulling them along into the market, the women in business attire walking in by themselves. Then, I pull my phone out.
Alice, you'll never guess who the hell just texted me, asking to meet me for lunch.
I wait half a minute.
If I'll never guess, just tell me. I'm on the other line with a pain in the ass client I took on pro bono.
Baby Mamma, that's who. You want me to text you later?
GTFOOH?! And no, it's fine. I've learned to multi-task. For what?
I have no clue.
Are you going to meet her?
I suppose I have to if I want to know what the hell she wants.
Did you tell Edward?
No. He's working at the office today. Don't want to bother him. I'll tell him later.
Alright. I won't tell Jasper yet then either. Where are you meeting her?
She texts me again before I can reply.
Take her to Pacific Stream. You're like a rock star there. Carrying Swan Bellies has become their claim to fame.
Good idea. Yeah. Thanks, Al.
I swallow thickly. I've been a bit hurt that Al appears to have known before me about Nessie's pregnancy, but…they were always close.
No problem, babe. Text me as soon as you're done with her! I wish I could go with you, but Sammy would prob end up embarrassing you.
Never. But yeah, prob best I go alone.
LOL. Don't forget to text me. Love ya!
Love you too.
With a deep breath, which I exhale through narrowed lips, I scroll to this morning's text, and I type out a reply.
Tanya, I've got an hour between 12:30 and 1:30. I'll meet you at Pacific Stream on Avocado Ave. I'll call for reservations.
I stare at the two-sentence text for a few seconds before I hit 'Send.'
OOOOOOOOOO
I've got a habit of arriving at least fifteen minutes early to any and all appointments. This habit holds true for my lunch meeting with Tanya – which is fine. It'll give me time to gather my wits, which obviously need gathering lately, as per the market debacle.
I park the BMW next to a varied collection of Bentleys, Range Rovers, Prius's and Outbacks. As soon as I open the car door, the inviting scent of burning wood wafts through the air. Patrons sit at the outside dining area in everything from Cuban Guayaberas to three-piece suits. It's an eclectic mix, which is one of the things I like about the place.
The dining room is classically dark, with plain lightbulbs hanging from wooden beams and white linen-covered tables set out in rows. Square-shaded lamps provide a bit more light, but the entire ambiance is meant to be warm and inviting, and it is.
The hostess greets me with a smile of recognition; Edward and I are here often, plus, the place proudly serves Swan Bellies.
"Mrs. Masen, we're delighted to see you here today. Will Mr. Masen be joining you?"
"No, but I do have a guest meeting me," I say, smiling back at the hostess.
"Wonderful. Please follow me, then. We have your table waiting."
I requested our usual outdoor section, so she leads me back out to the patio-style dining area with Adirondack chairs, patio umbrellas, and string lights, all surrounded by a well-landscaped lawn. It's soothing, and I'm gonna need soothing here.
"Your usual mojito, Mrs. Masen?" the hostess asks as I take my seat. She looks clean and pristine in the required Ralph Lauren shirt and black slacks.
"Yes, thank you, Lauren, but please, very light on the rum. I don't need my mouth getting away from me this afternoon – any more than it already has." I mumble the last part under my breath.
Lauren offers me a friendly chuckle in return, very professionally pretending she didn't hear that last bit.
"Of course. I'll inform the bar staff to go light on the rum, and I'll have your drink sent out with your waitperson." Before walking off, she leans in. "And by the way, this morning's delivery of Sugar-and-Spice-Cookies were amazing. They're all gone, but when we were informed you'd be dropping by for lunch, we kept a couple on hold for you." She whispers the last part conspiratorially.
"Why, thank you! But those were my daughter's creation," I grin proudly. "Baby on the brain and all that."
"Well, she definitely takes after her mom with her creativity," Lauren smiles. "Enjoy your lunch, Mrs. Masen."
I smile back at her, hoping my extreme doubt of that outcome isn't spelled across my face. When she walks away, I draw in a breath and look forward to the next few minutes of solitude in which to compose myself.
Apparently, someone taught Tanya to arrive early as well. As soon as I complete my first cleansing breath, Tanya's Lexus pulls up and, tires screeching slightly, parks close to my BMW. I suppose I've had all the prep time I'm going to get.
She exits the car like a movie star, on long stilettoes and a scarlet red skirt suit which screams High-Powered L.A. Attorney. Her strawberry-blond hair hangs long and straight behind her, swinging back and forth like a pendulum as she walks. For a split second, I regret not changing my outfit and fixing my hair – I'm wearing a pair of dark, high-waisted and wide-legged sailor pants with a white blouse tucked in at the waist, and my hair is up in a purposely messy bun a la Nessie. I wouldn't say I look like shit, but if beauty pageants were still a respectable thing, I wouldn't hold my breath for a place in the top ten.
But no; I won't do that to myself.
Tanya spots me and struts to the table on those high heels, one of those walks that says, 'I've got more important things to do than you after this.' As she takes a seat, she neither smiles nor scowls, and I maintain the same neutral expression.
"Bella."
"Tanya."
She looks around as she situates herself, places her napkin on her lap and such. "Nice place."
"Edward and I like it."
"Mm." She glances at her watch. "I'm happy to find you here early. I was hoping I wouldn't have to wait and risk being late to my four o'clock back in L.A. It's a pretty important meeting."
"I'm glad I could help keep you on schedule."
When she chuckles, I'm surprised it doesn't snow. The waitress arrives at that moment with my mojito.
"Here you go, Mrs. Masen; light on the rum, just as you requested it."
"Thank you," I smile up at her, suddenly wishing I'd asked for extra rum.
"No problem. We're always happy to see you here," she smiles in return. Then, she turns to Tanya, friendliness still in place. "Good afternoon, ma'am. We're always happy to see a friend of Mrs. Masen's as well! May I bring you a drink?"
"Water's fine, and just the menus, please."
I see the waitress's eyes narrow for a fraction of a second before she recovers herself.
"I'll bring your water out right away, ma'am, as well as the menus."
"Thank you; that'd be great," I say.
Tanya simply nods. I vaguely wonder if her water will have a layer of saliva floating on it when it arrives. If it does, I'll totally pretend I can't see it.
When the waitress walks off to retrieve menus and possibly-dirty water, Tanya looks at me and smiles.
"So, how have you been, Bella?"
"I'm good, Tanya. To what do I owe your text and request for this lunch meeting?"
"Direct, aren't you?" she snorts.
"Well, you want to make your meeting on time, right? And I've got some stuff to do as well."
She nods slowly.
The waitress arrives with our menus, dishwater, and an order of appetizers.
"Here you go," she says. "Mrs. Masen, the chef sends these fried oysters out with his compliments."
"Thank you so much!" I say. "Please pass my thanks along to Jean, and tell him they look delicious."
"I certainly will, Mrs. Masen." She hands us our menus. "I'll be back shortly to take your orders."
"So, what do you suggest here, Bella, since you're apparently such a regular?" Tanya asks as she peruses her menu.
"The crab cakes with avocado and grapefruit are pretty good, as is the ribeye if you're into that." I sigh and set down the menu. "Basically anything is tasty here. What's going on, Tanya?"
She looks around her menu at me, smiling as she meets my eyes. "Why does something have to be going on for us to have lunch together, Bella?"
"Tanya, our kids are married to one another, and whatever happened in the past is in the past, but we're certainly not friends," I shake my head and smile in return. "So, what's going on?"
She studies me for a moment, then sets down her menu. "Okay," she says simply, grinning. "I wanted to talk to you about Vanessa and Anthony."
My scalp prickles, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible, and I knit my hands together over the table to keep from fisting them furiously.
"What about Vanessa and Anthony?" I ask calmly.
Tanya knits her hands together, copying my posture. "They're finding out the sex of the baby next week, right?"
I swallow back my irritation at her knowledge, and I mentally repeat what's become a daily mantra for me: She has just as much right, she has just as much right.
"Right," I reply slowly.
"I wanted to discuss the Gender Reveal Party for them."
I blink a few times. "Gender Reveal…?"
"A Gender Reveal Party is-"
"I know what a Gender Reveal Party is, Tanya. I'm asking what Gender Reveal Party?"
"The one we're going to throw for them, of course."
The waitress returns for our orders. I request the Kale Salad; Tanya orders the seafood cocktail. After the waitress takes back our menus and leaves, I look at Tanya and shake my head.
"I have no plans to throw them a Gender Reveal Party. They're going to have a Baby Shower in a few months."
"What makes you think they want a Baby Shower?"
"What makes you think they want a Gender Reveal Party?"
"They're Millennials, Bella," Tanya retorts. "It's what they do nowadays." She jerks back as if my amazement amazes her. "You should know this. Aren't you some sort of marketing guru?"
For a few seconds, I can do nothing more than stare at her.
"Why don't we ask them?" Tanya finally suggests.
"What, like right now?" I ask because she's staring at me expectantly.
"Yes." She snorts as if the question is inane, glancing down at her watch. "We need to know as soon as possible, especially if they want a Gender Reveal Party. Now, if they want a Baby Shower," she says, twisting her full, red lips in obvious distaste and waving a hand dismissively, "then, you've got plenty of time to plan that."
I press my lips together, teeth on teeth so tight that for a moment I fear they might crack. So, I stop, because the last thing I need in front of Tanya is to crack a tooth.
"Alright," I say as nonchalantly as possible, reaching into my bag to pull out my cell. "I'll text them right now, but they might need some time to think about it."
"Ask them if they can give us an answer now. If not," she sighs, "I suppose we'll have to wait."
"Fine."
Heart racing, I compose my texts.
Hi Nessie, how do you feel, hon?
Hi, Anthony, what's going on sweetheart?
As soon as I hit send on both texts, I look up at Tanya.
"I'm greeting them first before I ask them."
She presses her lips together and glances again at her watch, sighing. "All right."
"Do you want an oyster?" I ask, waving a hand in their direction.
"No. Thanks."
I allow my gaze to roam around the patio, watching the laughing and smiling faces around us. The phone beeps. It's Anthony.
Hi, Mom. I'm good, thanks. Hope you're well. I'm actually at the office with Dad.
Oh, okay. Quick question, Anthony, and you can def check with Ness first if you'd like before you answer, and if you can't answer right now, that's fine too. But if you can get back to me in the next few minutes and let me know if you guys would prefer a Baby Shower or a Gender Reveal Party, that'd be great.
While I'm composing that, my phone beeps with another text. I quickly shoot the first off to Anthony and check Nessie's reply.
Hey, Mom. I feel good, thanks. How's your afternoon? What's up?
It's fine; thanks, baby. Just have a quick question for you, and I just sent Anthony a text with the same question. You can check with him quickly before you reply, and if you can't answer right now, that's fine, but if you can let me know in the next few minutes if you guys would prefer a Baby Shower or a Gender Reveal Party, that'd be great.
Across from me, Tanya sighs.
I look up at her. "I want them to check with one another first, and I'm giving them the option to take a few days to think about it. They may not be sure yet which they'd prefer."
She shrugs in a 'What choice do I have but to wait?' manner.
The waitress returns with our dishes.
My phone beeps.
Hey, Mom. I texted Ness. She says you texted her too. Everything okay?
Everything is fine, Anthony, but if you can let me know, that'd be great. If you can't right now, that's fine too.
"Anything?" Tanya asks.
"They're checking with one another," I say.
She sighs. Our dishes remain untouched. My phone beeps.
Hi, Mom. What's this about? Anthony says you texted him too.
Honey, if you guys can answer the question, that'd be great. If you can't right now, that's fine too. Just let me know.
Bella, babe, what's going on? Anthony's here, and he says you're asking about Baby Showers and Gender Reveals?
Mom, I'm fine with anything. Please don't drive yourself nuts about this. I'll defer to whatever Ness and/or you would prefer. Is everything okay?
"Anything, Bella?"
"Hold on, Tanya."
Okay. But Anthony, do you have a preference?
Edward, I'll explain in a few.
Ness?
"Mrs. Masen, is something wrong with your dish selections? Would you like us to bring you both something else?"
I look up at the waitress and offer her a frazzled smile.
"No, no. Everything's fine. Sorry."
"Actually, can you please just bring us the check?" Tanya says.
"Oh. Would you like today's Swan Bellies first?" the waitress asks. "We-"
"No. Just the check, please," Tanya says.
My phone beeps.
Mommy, I'd prefer a Gender Reveal, but either or neither is fine. What's going on, Mom?
My shoulders fall. My eyes sting senselessly, because really, what difference does it make?
"Well?"
I take a couple of seconds to make sure my voice won't quiver and my eyes won't appear glassy before I look up at Tanya.
"Anthony is fine with either…but…Ness would prefer a Gender Reveal."
"Wonderful," Tanya drawls. I can hear the triumph in her voice. Or maybe I'm just imagining it. Who knows anymore?
"All right, then."
She abruptly pops open her red, Hermes Birkin bag, pulls out a matching wallet, and retrieves a hundred dollar bill.
"Put your money away, Tanya," I say. "I've got it."
"Okay," she shrugs. "Thanks. I've got to run. This was good," she says in one of those 'I'm surprised you didn't direct me to a place where they serve roadkill' tones. "I'll be in touch in the next couple of days so we can plan and coordinate. Take care, Bella."
"Take care, Tanya."
A/N: Thoughts?
Frustration is ruling many of your thoughts, lol. Oh, I can tell. But…it's not a long story, so hang in there. ;)
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