The Best Man's Baby(32)
Her mother was decked to the nines as usual, her perfect size-four figure wrapped up in a pale-pink suit, her face and hair primped to perfection. Even a tornado wouldn’t budge a strand on her mother’s head. Claire gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before they sat on opposite sides of the booth.
Her mother shook her head as she settled into her seat, emphasizing her discontent with a tsk sound. “I must say I am surprised you picked this restaurant. The Italians are fixated on carbohydrates. I mean, it’s impossible to even look at this menu without gaining a pound.”
Claire slowly raised the menu to cover her face, pretending to be absorbed in the details and not at all ready to crawl under the table. She was going to try her best not to respond to her mother’s comment, but she knew her obsession well and that she would complain for the rest of the meal.
“Mmm. These gnocchi in a rosé sauce sound great,” Claire said, suddenly getting an overwhelming craving for the potato dumplings as she looked at the menu. Her appetite had been returning at unpredictable intervals, and it was such a wonderful contrast to the nausea she had endured the last two weeks.
Her mother gasped, reacting as though Claire had just told her she was an alien from another planet. “Of all the things to order, you choose carbs on top of carbs smothered in a rich creamy sauce. That’s hardly a figure-flattering choice. And after all the work you’ve done to trim those excess pounds.”
Claire felt her face ignite like a box of kindling. She focused on the thick black print of the menu. She focused on the letters. Anything to keep her mind from going back there. First the doctor’s appointment and now this.
She felt bile start to churn, felt her body go hot, but not because she felt anything like that girl anymore. Because she wanted to help her. She wanted to reach back into the past and hug the tormented young woman she once was.
Claire took a deep breath. She knew what the old Claire would have done—she would have ordered the grilled salmon, lemon sauce on the side, no potatoes, just grilled vegetables. And then she would have waited for her mother’s smile of approval. But she wasn’t the old Claire anymore. She had tossed her to the curb years ago. Now she was new and improved and she was going to ingest as many carbs as was humanly possible in one meal.
“You ladies decided?” the waiter asked with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension at the table.
“I’ll have the gnocchi with the rosé sauce. Oh, but first I’d like to start with bread. Lots of bread—with olive oil on the side for dipping.” She heard her mother’s gasp of horror.
“And I will have the grilled salmon, sauce on the side, grilled vegetables, and no potatoes please,” her mother said primly, handing the waiter her menu. And then she turned her full-on scary attention to Claire. She leaned forward in the booth. “Claire, I don’t know what kind of point you’re trying to make here by ordering that kind of food, but it’s just to your own detriment. You always were a rebellious child and teenager,” her mother said with a huff.
“Rebellious? What have I ever done?”
Her mother pursed her lips. “Remember the time you dyed your hair?”
“A darker shade of brown?” She fought the urge to engage her mother in a lose-lose debate. Instead, she got her frustration out by wringing her cloth napkin in her lap.
The waiter came with another bottle of San Pellegrino and poured them each a glass while they both sat in silence. She took a deep breath.
“So, Mom, there’s something I’d like to tell you,” Claire said, taking a sip of the cold, bubbly water.
Her mother raised her perfectly arched, perfectly waxed dark-brown eyebrows. “Really? You never tell me anything.”
“Right, well I’m about to tell you something now,” she said with a forced grin. “You know Jake Manning?”
Suddenly her mother’s face lit up like a Christmas tree in a department store window. “Why, yes I do. The best-looking of the Manning brothers in my opinion.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course the only comment her mother would make would be the most superficial. Claire had no idea how her father had managed to stay married to her mother. Her father always preached about tolerance, love, compassion…
“Right. Well, he and I have been dating.” Okay, so maybe that was a little stretch, but it was a heck of a lot better than I had a one-night stand with an amazingly hot man who impregnated me.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
She chewed on her lower lip, trying to keep her tongue inside her mouth where it wouldn’t land her in any trouble. She coughed and then continued. “It didn’t seem important.”