“Well, we’re always here for you,” Ian says seriously, making us all laugh.
Geneva gets a very serious look on her face and waves Shawn down to her to whisper in his ear. He listens intently, and then gets a lovely smile on his face. “If it’s okay with your folks, it’s okay with me,” he says seriously, and when he stands back up, I can see that his eyes are bright and shiny.
“MOM! CAN WE CALL HIM UNCLE SHAWN? HE’S SO MUCH BETTER THAN UNCLE GEORGE!” George is an old college buddy of Brad’s, and something of a buffoon, the kind of guy who has no idea how to talk to kids and is always either talking down to them or boring them to death.
Shelby laughs, and smiles warmly at Shawn. “If he doesn’t mind, we certainly don’t.”
“UNCLE SHAWN UNCLE SHAWN UNCLE SHAWN!” Geneva spins in a circle, and Shawn reaches for my hand and squeezes tight.
“Your fault, man, you said they could get anything they wanted from the dessert cart,” Brad says, shrugging at Shawn.
“I’ll take it,” Shawn says.
We get to the parking lot, and after a lot more hugs and thank-yous, Shelby and Brad start loading the kids into their car.
“UNCLE SHAWN!” Geneva yells from the backseat while Shelby is buckling her into her car seat. “CAN I BE THE FLOWER GIRL WHEN YOU MARRY ELOISE?”
Shelby looks aghast, and Brad slaps his forehead.
Shawn laughs. “Absolutely. But only if you promise to wear a tiara.”
“I’M A PRINCESS IN SHAWN AND ELOISE’S WEDDING!” She claps happily, while the rest of the kids grin and shake their heads.
Shelby winks at me.
We walk over to Shawn’s car and he opens my door for me.
“Tiara?” I ask.
“Well, I’d prefer you don’t wear one, but c’mon, that face?”
I lean in to kiss him. “I love you. Uncle Shawn.”
“Uh-uh. Uncle is for the kids only, Miss Eloise. But you can call me Big Daddy if you want,” he says with a wicked grin, slapping my butt lightly as I get in the car.
“As long as you don’t call me Mommy!”
“Nope, only our kids get to do that,” he says, casual as can be, as he closes the door, and I manage to shake off the happy tears before he makes it around to his side of the car to drive us home.
? ? ?
So, what, it’s like a when and not an if? Or is it just play talk?” Marcy asks, biting into her enormous burger at the Orbit Room, juice running down her wrist.
I pop a tater tot into my mouth and chew. “Yeah, I sort of think it is. I mean, we talk about what we’ll do, and he is really open about the kid thing. I think in part he started that because of what happened with Lynne—you know, he wants to be really up-front with me that he sees himself as a dad. But while we’ve never said the word ‘marriage’ specifically, it is sort of implied in a lot of our conversations.”
“Wow,” she says, dunking a lump of fried onion strings into ketchup and dangling them into her mouth. “Mama Eloise. I like it.”
“I like it too, I have to say. The more time I spend with Teresa’s family and Shawn’s family, I just think it feels right.” I’m still worried about whether I’ll be as good a mom as I want to be, but Shelby made me feel better about that, and Teresa said that if I questioned my ability to be a good mom it was the ultimate insult to my own mother, who has been the best possible role model. Ever since she said that, I feel like she’s right, and that even though I may not really know it, the tools are all there already.
“Damn, that will be a good-looking baby. Huge, but good-looking.”
I laugh and waggle my pickle spear at her. “Careful, munchkin. I can squash you.”
“True enough. How’s the bet coming along? You’ve only got, what, three more weeks?”
“I’m in good shape,” I say, lying through my teeth. “Three out of five are done, and I only have two more things to do for the social thing, and I’ve got one tomorrow night, a cookbook signing at the Book Cellar.”
“Well, I’ve got another one, with a possibility for some ongoing connection,” she says. “Why don’t you come with me to my Dahms event next week?”
“Dahms? What the hell are Dahms?”
She laughs. “Les Dames d’Escoffier,” she says in an exaggerated French accent.
“The Escoffier Ladies?” I ask, my rusty French kicking back in.
“Yeah. The Chicago chapter. I’ve been a member for a couple of years, and they are a great bunch of women. All areas of wine, food, and the hospitality industry, from chefs to food writers to culinary instructors to event planners. They raise money for scholarships for culinary programs and do community service and social programs. There’s even a book club that reads culinary fiction and stuff. Ever since you’ve been getting more social, I’ve been thinking you could come to a couple of events and get to know the ladies, and if you like them, I could work on getting you nominated for membership.”
“Wow. That sounds so cool. What is the event next week?”
“Thursday night. It’s a spirits-and-chocolate-pairing thing hosted by Vosges and Mammoth Distilling.”
“You had me at chocolate and booze.”
“I really think you’ll have fun.”
“Why haven’t I ever heard of them?”
Marcy pauses. “I never really wanted to mention. I mean, on paper, perfect fit for you, but . . .”
“But my antisocial nature?”
“I love you, honey, but these are super bright, fun women, and they have amazing big personalities. Yes, this is a way for them to give back, but it is also most importantly a way for them to network and connect. You really don’t bring someone into the circle unless there is a part of you that thinks she might be a good fit for something bigger; after all, we are a charitable organization, and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. I feel like last year, if I had taken you to something, I would have felt the need to really stick to you like glue, and that you would really mostly have just talked to me, if you had agreed to come with me at all. I don’t get to go to as many meetings and events as I would like, so when I go I want to flit around and see all my girls.”
“Didn’t want the old ball and chain dragging you down.” I hate how right she is, that in her position I would have probably done the same.
“Hey. I love you, you ridiculous giantess. You know that. And I’m super proud of how much you’ve changed in the past months. I never wanted to put you in an uncomfortable situation, but now I feel like you can come to this event and have a good time and meet some new people that might actually stick. I mean, wasn’t the whole socializing-with-strangers thing supposed to be about broadening your group of friends? Meeting new people?”
“It was.”
“Have you stayed in touch with any of the people you’ve met at any of these classes or tastings or events at all? Even taken someone’s card?”