Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Nora’s silly chatter as she pats her belly, which is starting to pooch out a tiny bit, makes Mom laugh a little, and her tears dry up slightly.
“Thank you for taking good care of her all this time, Nora,” Mom says.
“She’s the best, and I’m excited to be a page in her memoir one day,” Nora says lovingly. She’s been an amazing support through everything, letting me bounce ideas off her as I learn what it means to have your own design studio.
“It made it a little easier to know she has friends here,” Mom answers.
I blink, shocked as hell at my mom’s words. “What? I thought you’d be dragging me home and forcing me into the Apple Sauce’ing contest next month.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mom waves a dismissive hand at me. “You’ll be way too busy here, and you haven’t so much as peeled an apple in years. I’m too old to be the Apple Sauce Queen anymore, but I’m going to win that apple butter contest this year. I’ve been working on my recipe. The secret is nutmeg and vanilla.” Mom whispers the last bit like someone might be eavesdropping on her and hear nuclear codes, not baking secrets.
“Apple butter?” Jacqueline tilts her head, as though she’s trying to make the two words make sense together.
“Oh, yeah, I make the best around. Way better than Patty Wilkins’s, that’s for sure. I’ve got some in my suitcase. I’ll get you a jar before you go back to France,” Mom tells Jacqueline.
“That sounds delicious,” Nora adds, her stomach growling loudly. “To the both of us. Do you think that would taste good on ice cream? Ooh, I’m going to put ice cream on a sweet roll, and then drizzle apple butter on top. A bit like strawberry shortcake, but all dense and warm for fall.”
Mom tilts her head, imagining. “Great idea. I might have to demo it that way for the contest, if you don’t mind.”
Nora shakes her head. “As long as I get a jar, I’m good. I don’t even need a spoon at this point. I could lick it straight from the jar.” To her belly, she teases, “See what you’re doing to me already? I used to have manners and eat like a rational person. And now, I’m like Gollum . . . my precious!” Nora makes grabby hands at a passing waiter, snagging a small piece of chicken on a skewer and then nibbling it in ecstasy.
It’s a weird collision of my worlds—my mom, Nora, and Jacqueline Corbin standing around casually talking fashion and food. I look and see Clay and Tobias chatting too, looking like they’re having a good time. Though I’d guess they’re not talking about apple butter.
“I’d like some too, if you have enough,” I tell Mom.
“I already gave some to Simon. You got yourself a good one here.” She gives Simon a smile of approval as she fans herself playfully.
“I think I’m the fortunate one to have captured Autumn’s heart,” he replies, looking deeply into my eyes.
I think Mom flat-out swoons at his poetic words, French accent, and grumbly voice. I’m pretty sure I hear her whisper to Jacqueline, “I think we’re going to be grandmas soon if he keeps saying things like that.”
“Mom!” I exclaim, flushing brightly in an instant.
“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says. She turns to Jacqueline and Nora. “Has she told you how she struck out from our little town, with nothing but piss and vinegar in her blood and a dream in her heart? I was so worried, but this one . . . you can’t tell her a thing!”
Mom goes on to tell Nora and Jacqueline how she’d worried about my being in the big city, had waited for me to come home with my tail between my legs, and how proud she was when I graduated from FIT. “I bragged to everyone in town. They nearly banned me from the Wegman’s. And I thought she’d come back then, but nope. She wanted to see things, do things, and learn more. She’s so much braver than I could’ve ever dreamed of being.”
Mom looks at me with pride shining in her eyes.
All these years, I thought she didn’t believe in me. And yeah, she worried I wouldn’t make it, but not because of my skills but because the fashion industry is nearly impossible to break into and even harder to find success with. Only the rare designer becomes a household name, but I’m still hoping against hope that I am one of those lucky few.
Her joy in seeing the show tonight and words of support spotlight her previous words and actions in a different way. It doesn’t cure my feelings of insecurity and doubt, but it does put Mom in a different column, moving her from naysayer to cheerleader, something I wasn’t sure would ever happen.