Just as the phone began to ring, Ms. Abernathy raced from her bedroom to
the hall phone as if she'd been stuck with a pin. Snatching it up on the
second ring, she panted a breathless greeting, straightening her half-
buttoned blouse. Rhi bit into her pillow to stop herself laughing at her
mother through her open door.
"Love the look, Mom," she called as Ms. Abernathy hung up. "But, um, I think the no shirt no shoes no service rule has a no pants clause attached to it...."
Mom actually pulled a face at Rhi. "I hadn't finished getting dressed, young lady," she informed her daughter primly, tugging her blouse down a little further over her pantyhosed waist. Rhi rolled off her bed (where she'd been gazing at the Mirror's intricate silver gilt for the last twenty minutes) to give her mother a critical once-over.
"You haven't worn green in a long time," she said finally, furrowing her brow at the several undone buttons on the collar of the shirt. "Does that mean Andrew Stewart is going with you?"
"He might be there, yes," Ms. Abernathy said with deceptive mildness as she strolled back into her bedroom and sat at her dressing table to finish applying her makeup. The vivid hunter-green top made her chestnut hair seem more auburn, an effect Rhi knew her mother used when she wanted to impress people.
"I thought you said it wasn't a date."
"It's not, Rhi, I told you. It's just dinner. And Carol's the one who invited me in the first place."
"But this Andrew is going to be there."
"He might, Rhi. Do you honestly have a problem with that?" Ms. Abernathy turned on her stool to face her daughter, who leaned against the doorframe.
Rhi was quiet for a moment. "Do you like him?" she asked.
"Andrew is a very nice man, and I do enjoy working with him. Beyond that I don't know, I haven't been at this office for very long."
"Do you think you will like him?"
"Rhi—"Ms. Abernathy's tone changed, becoming more concerned than annoyed. "Honey, do you have a problem with me dating? Is that what this is about?"
Rhi shrugged and looked down at her bare feet.
"Rhiannon, this isn't a date. And if I go out with these people again, it will not be a date. Not for a long time yet. I don't—Rhi, I don't know when I'll...there's no set time for these things," she said finally, "and I know it's...it's only been six months. It's not a date, Rhi," she finished in a low voice. Rhiannon knew that if this conversation continued, there would be tears from one or the other of them in no time at all. "I'm just going out for dinner. OK?"
"OK, Mom." Still looking at the floor, Rhi turned, but before she could leave the room Ms. Abernathy had caught her in a fierce hug. For a moment, they stood there, holding each other, and Rhi was afraid that despite the resolution she would start crying. No tears had escaped, however, only tension, when she let her mother go. Ms. Abernathy spared her a watery smile before turning to the open jewelry box on her desk. As she selected a pair of peridot drops to slide into her earlobes, Rhi left the room.
She'd just sat down on the bed again, just reached a gentle, tentative finger to trace a tendril of silver at the Mirror's edge, when the doorbell rang. Again she padded out into the hall to see her mother fling open her bedroom door, teetering on heels she hadn't quite gotten all the way on her feet yet.
"Mom!" Ms. Abernathy turned, exasperated, to see her daughter barely holding back laughter behind one hand. "Mom, would you please put some pants on?" Ms. Abernathy squealed in startlement, looking down at her nylon- covered legs, and dashed back into her bedroom.
"Get the door, Rhi!" she yelled as Rhi doubled over in laughter in the hallway. Still giggling, Rhi strolled to the door, calming her chuckles and schooling her face into the stern, uninterested look she wore at school daily. Hoping she presented an imposing picture, she swung the front door open.
Outside stood a tall, stocky man with the reddest hair and beard Rhi had ever seen. Very blue eyes stood out in a pale face, seeming startled for a moment by the tall, stoic girl who held the door open, obviously waiting for an introduction.
"Uh, hi. I'm Andrew Stewart. Is, um, is Marienne Abernathy home?" Rhi shook his proffered hand exactly once—up, down, release—before widening the door and stepping back.
"She'll be ready in a moment. You should come in." Rhiannon struggled to maintain her careful, stony mask, all the while her brain roared with laughter. Andrew Stewart, obviously bewildered by her even, unemotional tone, stepped over the threshold and into the living room.
"You, uh, you must be Rhiannon!" She had to give him points for pronouncing her name correctly, at least—most people called her Ree-ann-non, rather than the proper Irish Ree-anon. Mom must talk about me a lot.
"Your mother has told us all a lot about you," Andrew Stewart continued nervously, and Rhi allowed herself a smirk. She motioned for him to have a seat and went to the hallway.
"Mom, there is a gentleman here to meet you!" Rhi called, keeping her voice pleasantly even. Turning back to the obviously nervous redhead on the couch, she asked, "May I get you anything to drink, Mr. Stewart?"
"No, no thank you. And please, uh, call me Andrew." From the sidelong glance he gave her, it was obvious he didn't entirely trust this unnaturally calm girl who seated herself across from him on the divan. He glanced around the living room, trying to make her understand by his looks that he liked the place—for she said nothing, only stared at him with a kind of detached, unnerving interest, as though he were a lightening bug she'd trapped in a jar. When Marienne finally entered the room, he almost jumped to his feet.
"Ah, and how are you two getting along?" she asked briskly, going to the closet by the door for a light coat. Andrew rattled out some appropriate, hasty response, managing in one breath to remark on Rhi's delightful nature and compliment Marienne's outfit. Though Rhi's expression didn't change, she regarded her mother with a critical eye, noting the care that had gone into the selection of earrings, hair clip and bracelet—all matching, set with peridot—that complimented her hunter-green silk blouse and wide-legged black trousers. But as Ms. Abernathy swung the summer-weight pea coat over her shoulders—for the evening was still cool—Rhi caught the glint of gold on her left hand: the engagement and wedding rings from her father. Good. Suddenly she didn't distrust this Andrew Stewart quite so much.
"I shouldn't be too late, hon," Ms. Abernathy said, fishing in her pocketbook. "Here's some pizza money, and I expect to get the change back! Please stay home, and if there's any problem, call Carol's cell phone; the number's on the fridge. OK?"
"Have a good time, Mom." Rhi said, bending so she could kiss her mother good bye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Andrew Stewart," she called in that same unnerving voice as the door closed behind them. She managed to count to ten before breaking out in giggles again.
"She pulled the Lurch routine on you, didn't she?" Marienne said as she dropped her keys into her pocketbook and they hurried down the walk to Carol's waiting car.
"What?"
"Rhi—she gave you that unnatural Zen-master stare. I could hear her from my room...sorry it took me so long to get ready," she added.
Andrew laughed, a trifle nervously. "It was no problem. So she really isn't like that all the time?"
Marienne snorted. "My daughter? No. She has her father's temper, and his view on solving conflicts: a hammer can fix anything. No, she likes doing the whole robot bit to my friends sometimes. Puts them off-guard so she can laugh at their responses...another thing I wish she hadn't picked up from James."
Rhi watched from the front window as Andrew Stewart held the door open for her mother, and then slid into the backseat before the car took off down the street. Sighing, she dropped the blinds over the window again, and plopped down on the couch. Brief channel-surfing did nothing for her, other than to remind her that she was ravenously hungry. She picked out a likely- looking pizza place from the phone book and dialed idly, ordering a sausage, pepperoni and pineapple with extra cheese, then wandered aimlessly for twenty minutes before the delivery guy showed up.
Matt arrived with the pizza.
"Love the look, Mom," she called as Ms. Abernathy hung up. "But, um, I think the no shirt no shoes no service rule has a no pants clause attached to it...."
Mom actually pulled a face at Rhi. "I hadn't finished getting dressed, young lady," she informed her daughter primly, tugging her blouse down a little further over her pantyhosed waist. Rhi rolled off her bed (where she'd been gazing at the Mirror's intricate silver gilt for the last twenty minutes) to give her mother a critical once-over.
"You haven't worn green in a long time," she said finally, furrowing her brow at the several undone buttons on the collar of the shirt. "Does that mean Andrew Stewart is going with you?"
"He might be there, yes," Ms. Abernathy said with deceptive mildness as she strolled back into her bedroom and sat at her dressing table to finish applying her makeup. The vivid hunter-green top made her chestnut hair seem more auburn, an effect Rhi knew her mother used when she wanted to impress people.
"I thought you said it wasn't a date."
"It's not, Rhi, I told you. It's just dinner. And Carol's the one who invited me in the first place."
"But this Andrew is going to be there."
"He might, Rhi. Do you honestly have a problem with that?" Ms. Abernathy turned on her stool to face her daughter, who leaned against the doorframe.
Rhi was quiet for a moment. "Do you like him?" she asked.
"Andrew is a very nice man, and I do enjoy working with him. Beyond that I don't know, I haven't been at this office for very long."
"Do you think you will like him?"
"Rhi—"Ms. Abernathy's tone changed, becoming more concerned than annoyed. "Honey, do you have a problem with me dating? Is that what this is about?"
Rhi shrugged and looked down at her bare feet.
"Rhiannon, this isn't a date. And if I go out with these people again, it will not be a date. Not for a long time yet. I don't—Rhi, I don't know when I'll...there's no set time for these things," she said finally, "and I know it's...it's only been six months. It's not a date, Rhi," she finished in a low voice. Rhiannon knew that if this conversation continued, there would be tears from one or the other of them in no time at all. "I'm just going out for dinner. OK?"
"OK, Mom." Still looking at the floor, Rhi turned, but before she could leave the room Ms. Abernathy had caught her in a fierce hug. For a moment, they stood there, holding each other, and Rhi was afraid that despite the resolution she would start crying. No tears had escaped, however, only tension, when she let her mother go. Ms. Abernathy spared her a watery smile before turning to the open jewelry box on her desk. As she selected a pair of peridot drops to slide into her earlobes, Rhi left the room.
She'd just sat down on the bed again, just reached a gentle, tentative finger to trace a tendril of silver at the Mirror's edge, when the doorbell rang. Again she padded out into the hall to see her mother fling open her bedroom door, teetering on heels she hadn't quite gotten all the way on her feet yet.
"Mom!" Ms. Abernathy turned, exasperated, to see her daughter barely holding back laughter behind one hand. "Mom, would you please put some pants on?" Ms. Abernathy squealed in startlement, looking down at her nylon- covered legs, and dashed back into her bedroom.
"Get the door, Rhi!" she yelled as Rhi doubled over in laughter in the hallway. Still giggling, Rhi strolled to the door, calming her chuckles and schooling her face into the stern, uninterested look she wore at school daily. Hoping she presented an imposing picture, she swung the front door open.
Outside stood a tall, stocky man with the reddest hair and beard Rhi had ever seen. Very blue eyes stood out in a pale face, seeming startled for a moment by the tall, stoic girl who held the door open, obviously waiting for an introduction.
"Uh, hi. I'm Andrew Stewart. Is, um, is Marienne Abernathy home?" Rhi shook his proffered hand exactly once—up, down, release—before widening the door and stepping back.
"She'll be ready in a moment. You should come in." Rhiannon struggled to maintain her careful, stony mask, all the while her brain roared with laughter. Andrew Stewart, obviously bewildered by her even, unemotional tone, stepped over the threshold and into the living room.
"You, uh, you must be Rhiannon!" She had to give him points for pronouncing her name correctly, at least—most people called her Ree-ann-non, rather than the proper Irish Ree-anon. Mom must talk about me a lot.
"Your mother has told us all a lot about you," Andrew Stewart continued nervously, and Rhi allowed herself a smirk. She motioned for him to have a seat and went to the hallway.
"Mom, there is a gentleman here to meet you!" Rhi called, keeping her voice pleasantly even. Turning back to the obviously nervous redhead on the couch, she asked, "May I get you anything to drink, Mr. Stewart?"
"No, no thank you. And please, uh, call me Andrew." From the sidelong glance he gave her, it was obvious he didn't entirely trust this unnaturally calm girl who seated herself across from him on the divan. He glanced around the living room, trying to make her understand by his looks that he liked the place—for she said nothing, only stared at him with a kind of detached, unnerving interest, as though he were a lightening bug she'd trapped in a jar. When Marienne finally entered the room, he almost jumped to his feet.
"Ah, and how are you two getting along?" she asked briskly, going to the closet by the door for a light coat. Andrew rattled out some appropriate, hasty response, managing in one breath to remark on Rhi's delightful nature and compliment Marienne's outfit. Though Rhi's expression didn't change, she regarded her mother with a critical eye, noting the care that had gone into the selection of earrings, hair clip and bracelet—all matching, set with peridot—that complimented her hunter-green silk blouse and wide-legged black trousers. But as Ms. Abernathy swung the summer-weight pea coat over her shoulders—for the evening was still cool—Rhi caught the glint of gold on her left hand: the engagement and wedding rings from her father. Good. Suddenly she didn't distrust this Andrew Stewart quite so much.
"I shouldn't be too late, hon," Ms. Abernathy said, fishing in her pocketbook. "Here's some pizza money, and I expect to get the change back! Please stay home, and if there's any problem, call Carol's cell phone; the number's on the fridge. OK?"
"Have a good time, Mom." Rhi said, bending so she could kiss her mother good bye. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Andrew Stewart," she called in that same unnerving voice as the door closed behind them. She managed to count to ten before breaking out in giggles again.
"She pulled the Lurch routine on you, didn't she?" Marienne said as she dropped her keys into her pocketbook and they hurried down the walk to Carol's waiting car.
"What?"
"Rhi—she gave you that unnatural Zen-master stare. I could hear her from my room...sorry it took me so long to get ready," she added.
Andrew laughed, a trifle nervously. "It was no problem. So she really isn't like that all the time?"
Marienne snorted. "My daughter? No. She has her father's temper, and his view on solving conflicts: a hammer can fix anything. No, she likes doing the whole robot bit to my friends sometimes. Puts them off-guard so she can laugh at their responses...another thing I wish she hadn't picked up from James."
Rhi watched from the front window as Andrew Stewart held the door open for her mother, and then slid into the backseat before the car took off down the street. Sighing, she dropped the blinds over the window again, and plopped down on the couch. Brief channel-surfing did nothing for her, other than to remind her that she was ravenously hungry. She picked out a likely- looking pizza place from the phone book and dialed idly, ordering a sausage, pepperoni and pineapple with extra cheese, then wandered aimlessly for twenty minutes before the delivery guy showed up.
Matt arrived with the pizza.