he entered, pressing the number 12. Though it was only seconds, it seemed like a long ride.
The elevator stopped and the bell beeped as the door slid open. Jon sighed again, walked out of the elevator, and paused to gather himself. Then he knocked on an apartment door where the name below the brass knocker read MR. & MRS. J. DELANO, with the MR. & crossed out. A woman—almost middle-aged but younger and far better preserved than Barbara—opened the door. She was dressed (or even overdressed) in what Jon guessed was considered “a smart suit.”
“Jonathan,” the woman cooed as she took the tulips from his hand as if they were expected. “How nice.”
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mother,” Jon said to Janet as he kissed her the way she’d taught him to: carefully on each cheek, being sure not to smudge her beautifully applied makeup.
“You don’t have to call me ‘Mother.’ I’m hardly old enough for that,” Janet replied with a little laugh. There was something about Janet’s voice that had always made him feel uncomfortable. When he was younger, he’d felt that she was gently mocking him. More recently, he’d realized that she was actually flirting. “Let me just put these in water,” she said. She opened the door wider to let him inside. He’d never felt comfortable with Janet.
The apartment was as overdecorated as Janet was herself. She wore way too much gold jewelry and had way too many gold buttons. The apartment had too many gold frames and too much cut glass. When he was twelve years old and had visited his father here, she’d spent most of her time cautioning him not to touch anything.
Nothing had changed since last year except his flowers. It was frozen in time, like Janet’s face or the palace in Sleeping Beauty. But no prince was making it up here for Janet’s wake-up call. Jon liked Barbara, but he couldn’t actually feel anything but pity for Janet. Now she played with the flowers in the little sink of the tiny kitchen. “Have you heard from your dad?” she asked, trying to sound casual.
“No,” Jon said quietly. It was the question he most hated hearing. It made his father’s exes seem vulnerable. Now he felt even more sorry for Janet and he’d have to stay longer.
“No? No surprise,” she said, and her flirty voice changed and became hard. She pushed the last tulip into the vase too hard and broke the stem, though she didn’t notice. “And how’s your social life?” she asked, and Jon felt she might already know the answer wasn’t good. She eyed him up and down, taking in his baggy khakis, his old sneakers, his T-shirt. Then she sighed. “Well, where shall we go for brunch?”
Jon’s heart sank. “You know,” he said uncomfortably, “I thought maybe we’d just have coffee here. I mean, I could afford to lose a few pounds …”
“You mean I could,” Janet said, smiling and using that flirtatious voice again. “I’m always on a diet. But since it’s Mother’s Day, any brunch calories I eat are exempt. Even for a stepmom.”
Jon gave up and gave in. Until he left her, Jon’s dad had always given in to Janet, too.
In less than ten minutes, Jon found himself standing in front of a chic Seattle cafe. Thank God there was no line yet, but by the time they’d finished and he’d waved good-bye to his second stepmother, more than two dozen people were waiting. Jon consulted his watch, panicked, and hopped on his bike. He pedaled like a madman, out of downtown, past the park, through the wealthier part of Seattle, and into his old neighborhood.
At Corcoran Street, Jon pulled his bike into the driveway of a brick bungalow. The house was covered in creeper and surrounded by flower beds. He ran past a well-tended bed, which reminded him to double back to the bike for yet another bouquet, the largest one.
He grabbed it and ran up to the door. There under the buzzer, the brass name plate read J. DELANO. Before he could knock, the door was thrown open by an attractive dark-haired woman who actually looked a lot like Jon.
“Jonathan!” his mother exclaimed.
“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!” Jon embraced her warmly, crushing the flowers between them.
“Right on time!” his mother said. She took the flowers and patted his cheek with obvious deep affection. “Oh, honey. Peonies! God, they’re way before season. They must have cost you a fortune.”
“It’s okay, Mom. My allowance is bigger than it used to be.”
She laughed. “But how’s your appendix?” she asked.
“It’s still missing—but I’m good,” he said. He’d had an emergency appendectomy three years ago and it had frightened the hell out of her. She still asked about it, but it had come to mean his health in general.
“Did you see Rainier today?” she asked.
“Yes. And Mount Baker,” he told her.
They went through the living room and into the kitchen. “You came alone?” she asked.
“Yes. Why?” Jon asked.
“I thought maybe you’d bring Tracie.”
Jon smiled. Though he and Tracie had been close friends from the time they met, his mother still hinted or hoped they were more. Or that he’d bring some other girl—a real girlfriend—home. While all of Chuck’s ex-wives focused on who Chuck’s new girlfriend was, his mom focused on who Jon’s girlfriend was. He knew she wanted him to be happy, and that she wanted grandchildren for herself and for him. It wasn’t that Jon wouldn’t love to meet a woman and settle down, it was just that women he met seemed to want to settle down with someone other than him. In his social life he was a disappointment to himself and others. He sighed. He’d have liked to oblige, but …
“… This holiday’s always hard on her,” his mother was saying as she put the flowers in a vase.
Jon didn’t bother to tell his mom that he’d thought of Tracie—sometimes he thought he thought of Tracie too much—but that she was booked up with the latest loser and her old friend from San Bernadino or somewhere.
“She was busy. But I’ll see her tonight. You know, our midnight brunch.”
“Well, give her my love,” she told him.
“Sure,” he agreed as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wrapped box. He put it on the counter between them.
“Oh. A present? Jon. It’s not necessary.”
“I know that traditionally on Mother’s Day you’re supposed to steal your mom’s bank card and go on a spree. I just thought this once we’d be untraditional.”
Jon made a lot of money. Well, it was not a lot of money compared to what the four initial founders of his firm made, but it was a lot of money for a guy his age. And he didn’t spend it on much, since he was usually too busy working to have time to shop. Plus, he didn’t want anything. He had all the toys—stereos and laptops and video equipment—he could possibly want and very little time to listen, play with, or watch them. When he wasn’t working, he was thinking about work or sleeping. So, for him to spend some bucks on his mother was no big deal. It was deciding what she might like that was difficult. In the end, he had let Tracie pick something out. She was great at shopping.
“You’re so thoughtful. You sure didn’t get that
