Place and Time

A/N: You have no idea how much I love hearing from you all. XO

Chapter 2: Some Motherly Advice

During dinner, Dad asks if I talked to Mom today since I didn't call last evening when I got here. Feeling another pang of guilt at leaving Mom out of the loop, I tell him I'll call after dinner.

Now, with dinner and dishes behind us, I head upstairs to get my phone.

Like the rest of the house, my old bedroom still looks much the same as it did when I was in high school. Same green walls and white curtains. Same bed and purple bedspread. Same dresser, desk, and matching bookshelf, but all that furniture is mostly empty now. My laptop rests where the ancient PC once stood, but there's still some old artwork and photos tacked up around the room beneath the strand of twinkle lights.

Grabbing my phone from the dresser, I sit on the bed and call Mom. Her cell rings a handful of times before her cheery voice greets me.

"Hi, baby! How's it going?"

"Great. How are you, Mom? How's Phil and the new house?"

"We're both fine and oh my gosh, I just love this house! I picked out furniture for the Florida room today. Isn't that a kick—living in Florida and having a Florida room? I mean, what other state has its own room in a house? Who would even want an Alaska room?"

I laugh. She thinks of the weirdest things. "Not me, that's for sure. It sounds awfully cold."

"Right?!" she laughs. She has a great laugh. It's such a warm sound.

"So, tell me what kind of furniture you chose." She's going to tell me anyway, so we might as well get to it. She's excited about her decorating, and it's good to hear her voice.

I get the pros and cons of rattan, seagrass, and bamboo. By the time we get to decisions on color schemes and patterns, hibiscus versus birds of paradise, and parrots versus flamingos, I'm completely lost. She assures me she'll text me photos when the furniture is delivered, and I just tell her it all sounds very exciting.

"So, what's new, baby? Oh! Did you get the envelope I sent?"

"Yeah, I just got it today, actually."

"Today? But I mailed it on Wednesday. Or was it Thursday? No, it was definitely Wednesday. I can't believe it took a full week to…"

"Yeah, no, Mom. It got to Phoenix a few days ago." Ugh. Here we go… She's not going to like this. "I'd already left for Washington when it got to Samantha's, but she forwarded it to me at Dad's. I made it here yesterday, and I'm sorry I didn't call you last night, but I figured it was too late, your time."

"You're already at Charlie's?! I thought you were still in Phoenix! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? You drove all that way, and I had no idea?!"

"Mom, I'm fine. The drive was fine and the hotels were fine. I checked in with Dad so he knew where I was each day. Now it's over, everything worked out, and you didn't have to worry."

She sighs. "I guess... Still, I wish I'd known, Bella."

I feel kind of bad, but just like that, we move on. "So, what was in the envelope I sent? Anything important?"

"Um, yeah, kind of. It was a wedding invitation. From Rosalie Hale."

"Oh, my goodness! Oh, dear… Rose isn't marrying that dreadful Roscoe boy, is she?"

"Royce. And no, it's someone else."

"Well, thank goodness for that. So who is she marrying? What's his name?"

"Um...I don't remember, and I left the invitation downstairs, but I think his name started with an E…"

"Was it Eric? Ethan? Or Evan?"

"No, none of those. I remember thinking it was kind of old-fashioned, though."

"Well, how about Ernest? Eugene? Elmer? Oh, Bella, promise me you'll never marry an Elmer! I would hear Elmer Fudd's voice in my head every time you mentioned him. Don't do that to me. Or to yourself. How could you ever have wild, passionate sex with an Elmer?!"

I'm laughing at her crazy, but she makes a valid point.

"I won't, Mom. I promise. And I don't think Rose is marrying or having wild, passionate sex with an Elmer either. I'll double-check the invitation and text you his name later. I don't want you to stay up all night, worrying about Rose trying to get her freak on with Elmer Fudd."

She laughs along with me. "Thank you. So tell me about this wedding. Where is it, and are you going? Or is it one of those unreasonable destination things no one in their right mind can afford?"

"No, it's here in Seattle. But it's next Saturday, and I doubt I'll go. I missed the cut-off for RSVPs and I don't think…"

"You can still go to the wedding, Bella. The RSVPs are just to get a head count for seating and food at the reception, but anyone can attend a wedding."

"I know, but… Rose and I haven't talked in years, and she didn't know I would be here in Washington. My guess is the invitation was more of an announcement, and I think it would be awkward if I just…showed up."

"Oh, sweetheart… Rose is your oldest friend. What if sending the invitation was her way of trying to finally reach out to you? Maybe she was hoping you'd make the next move. Maybe she feels awkward too."

I pick at a thread on my comforter. "Yeah, I don't know. Dad suggested telling her I've moved back when I send my regrets, so I'll do that much."

"Good. And be sure to let her know the invitation was held up in the mail with all of us moving. You might also want to include your phone number, just in case. Maybe she'll get in touch, and you'll finally be able to patch things up. And if you don't hear from her, well, at least you tried, right?"

"Yeah, you're right. I'll do that tonight and get it in the mail tomorrow."

"Good. Keep me posted."

"I will."

"Anything else you want to talk about?"

"No, I guess that's probably it for now."

"Okay. I love you, Bella."

"Love you too, Mom. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, baby."

Sliding off the bed, I pocket my phone and head over to my old desk for some paper to write a note to Rose. My paper selection leaves a lot to be desired. There's a SpongeBob SquarePants tablet, or the last few pages of an ancient spiral notebook, or several faded sheets of construction paper. With a sigh, I close the drawer and head downstairs.

I find Dad parked in his recliner, tuned into an old episode of CSI Somewhere.

"Dad, do you have any nice paper I could use? Like…stationery?"

He looks up at me like I'm sporting an extra head, so I amend my request. "Or just something kind of…plain? I want to write a note to Rose and all my stuff is packed away."

"There's a notepad in the drawer by the phone. Pens, too."

"That'll work. Thanks."

With pen, notepad, and wedding invitation paraphernalia in hand, I take a seat at the kitchen table, composing my thoughts before composing my note. There's a lot I want to say, but I don't know Rose's position on things. Is this really an invitation or more of an announcement? In the end, I keep things fairly short, referring to it as both, and it takes me several rewrites before I'm satisfied.

Dear Rose,

I'm sorry it has taken me so long to return this response card, but I honestly just got your wedding announcement today. Mom and Phil were in the process of moving to Florida, and I was staying with a friend before moving back to Washington, so the invitation took a trip around the US before finally catching up to me at Dad's house in Forks today.

Anyway, congratulations to you and your husband-to-be. I wish you both every happiness together, and I'll be thinking of you on your very special day.

Bella

P.S. I'm still at the same number if you feel like calling to chat sometime: 360)323-4782.

After a final reread, I fill in my name on the response card and place a checkmark next to will not attend. Thinking about what Mom said earlier, I wonder if Rose was hopeful I might come. Maybe that's why the response card was included. Or maybe that's just standard procedure.

Folding my note, I slide it and the response card into the provided envelope. It's pre-addressed to Rose—at an address in Bellevue. Which isn't Rose's parents' address in Seattle. Which means it must be where she lives now.

"Hey, Dad? Where's Bellevue?"

"East of Seattle. Other side of Lake Washington."

"How far from Seattle?"

"Maybe ten miles?"

Oh. Wow. Rose would be close to me in Seattle. Unless she's moving after the wedding. Who even knows where her fiancé lives? Or where he's from? Which reminds me…

Taking a look back at the invitation, I pick up my phone and send Mom a quick text:

It's Emmett. Emmett William McCarty.

A/N: As always, I would love to hear from you. :)