mother.
“I left you detailed instructions taped to the washing machine,” Ella said, walking over to the large window overlooking the oak-lined Carrollton Avenue. “And you know that if you get in a pinch, Honey would love for you to visit. Just be prepared for a dose of unsolicited advice along with your pressed unmentionables.”
Linda “Honey” Mabry was Arabella’s surrogate grandmother and the closest thing she’d had to a mother since she was six years old. Honey had bought Ella her first training bra, had been the one to dry her tears when Matt Hightower broke her heart in the tenth grade, and she, along with her spitfire granddaughter, continued to push and prod Ella to step out from the shadows and into the spotlight. She’d also made it abundantly clear as of late that she was ready for great-grandchildren, and she didn’t much mind letting anyone within listening distance know it. Unfortunately for her, Lana had no plans of ever marrying, much less procreating.
“Don’t I know it,” she mumbled. “Listen, you just better not think about going and falling for some hot Cajun guy, because I’ll drive my happy butt down there and snatch you back. Test me on this.”
Arabella’s smile fell from her face, and her laugh came out forced. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said, wishing away the pressure behind her eyes. “Besides, you know falling in love didn’t make the cut.”
Lana hesitated on the other end, and for a moment, Ella feared she’d ask again. Ever since that night she’d approached Charlie, her best friend had been pestering her for details, but so far, Arabella had kept mum. Lana knew that they’d kissed, and she claimed to have seen the haze of sexual tension in the air, but Ella had refused to say anything other than that he’d been a complete gentleman…and even hotter up close than she’d remembered.
She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep the details to herself; she didn’t usually keep secrets from her best friend. But everything about that night felt precious. Fleeting. Almost as if by discussing the tiny moments that made up her short time with Charlie, stains would suddenly appear, tarnishing it, making it less special, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. That night was all she’d ever have.
But, Lana didn’t ask again. What she said was, “Ah, yes, the infamous summer list. You do realize you’re the only person I know who makes a to-do list to enjoy herself, right?”
Outside, bells clanged as a distant streetcar slid to a stop along the cables, letting on a fresh batch of passengers. The process was familiar, orderly, not unlike her lists. Arabella was tempted to recite research about how recorded goals and strategic plans had higher success rates than merely winging it. She considered sharing studies that proved it reduced stress, bred creativity, and kept you efficient. But Lana had heard all that before.
Plus, before she could, her friend added:
“Your lists may be my favorite thing about you, cookies notwithstanding, and even I can admit this one’s pretty epic.” Lana’s smile could be heard over the phone, and Ella exhaled a breath. This list was epic, and so unlike any she’d ever put together. Of course, this was the first time she’d ever truly left home and felt free to experiment. “Just know that I’m expecting a call every time you cross off another one of those suckers, and I will want details.”
“If I don’t tell you, then it didn’t happen,” Arabella answered, turning away from the window with the hope of adventure rising in her chest.
Nine items remained on her list, each one more daring than the last. Some demanded physical bravery, others required mental and emotional courage. Strangely enough, those would prove the hardest. Reaching out and taking what she wanted, asking the hard questions as to what that would even be, wouldn’t come easy. For so long, she’d told herself she wanted whatever her father wanted.
“I left you detailed instructions taped to the washing machine,” Ella said, walking over to the large window overlooking the oak-lined Carrollton Avenue. “And you know that if you get in a pinch, Honey would love for you to visit. Just be prepared for a dose of unsolicited advice along with your pressed unmentionables.”
Linda “Honey” Mabry was Arabella’s surrogate grandmother and the closest thing she’d had to a mother since she was six years old. Honey had bought Ella her first training bra, had been the one to dry her tears when Matt Hightower broke her heart in the tenth grade, and she, along with her spitfire granddaughter, continued to push and prod Ella to step out from the shadows and into the spotlight. She’d also made it abundantly clear as of late that she was ready for great-grandchildren, and she didn’t much mind letting anyone within listening distance know it. Unfortunately for her, Lana had no plans of ever marrying, much less procreating.
“Don’t I know it,” she mumbled. “Listen, you just better not think about going and falling for some hot Cajun guy, because I’ll drive my happy butt down there and snatch you back. Test me on this.”
Arabella’s smile fell from her face, and her laugh came out forced. “I wouldn’t dare,” she said, wishing away the pressure behind her eyes. “Besides, you know falling in love didn’t make the cut.”
Lana hesitated on the other end, and for a moment, Ella feared she’d ask again. Ever since that night she’d approached Charlie, her best friend had been pestering her for details, but so far, Arabella had kept mum. Lana knew that they’d kissed, and she claimed to have seen the haze of sexual tension in the air, but Ella had refused to say anything other than that he’d been a complete gentleman…and even hotter up close than she’d remembered.
She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to keep the details to herself; she didn’t usually keep secrets from her best friend. But everything about that night felt precious. Fleeting. Almost as if by discussing the tiny moments that made up her short time with Charlie, stains would suddenly appear, tarnishing it, making it less special, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. That night was all she’d ever have.
But, Lana didn’t ask again. What she said was, “Ah, yes, the infamous summer list. You do realize you’re the only person I know who makes a to-do list to enjoy herself, right?”
Outside, bells clanged as a distant streetcar slid to a stop along the cables, letting on a fresh batch of passengers. The process was familiar, orderly, not unlike her lists. Arabella was tempted to recite research about how recorded goals and strategic plans had higher success rates than merely winging it. She considered sharing studies that proved it reduced stress, bred creativity, and kept you efficient. But Lana had heard all that before.
Plus, before she could, her friend added:
“Your lists may be my favorite thing about you, cookies notwithstanding, and even I can admit this one’s pretty epic.” Lana’s smile could be heard over the phone, and Ella exhaled a breath. This list was epic, and so unlike any she’d ever put together. Of course, this was the first time she’d ever truly left home and felt free to experiment. “Just know that I’m expecting a call every time you cross off another one of those suckers, and I will want details.”
“If I don’t tell you, then it didn’t happen,” Arabella answered, turning away from the window with the hope of adventure rising in her chest.
Nine items remained on her list, each one more daring than the last. Some demanded physical bravery, others required mental and emotional courage. Strangely enough, those would prove the hardest. Reaching out and taking what she wanted, asking the hard questions as to what that would even be, wouldn’t come easy. For so long, she’d told herself she wanted whatever her father wanted.
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