Happy November! How was the party? Mine was kinda fun.
Today will be less fun, I’m sure. I’m seeing my parents. Separately. Although I’d like to get them together in a room and then lock it until they come to their senses.
Nick
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Dear Nick,
Happy November to you! The party was good. And I think I have now seen everyone I’ve ever met, so hopefully the looks of surprise and the ‘my, my, Abigail, what have you done to yourself?’ will end.
I would say ‘enjoy your time with your parents’, but I don’t think that works somehow, so how about ‘survive the time with your parents’.
Speaking of parents, mine want to hear from you. I mean, my mother does. She’s beginning to be suspicious that you aren’t real. Do you think you could do another phone call? You don’t have to talk to me. You can call when I’m out and just leave a message. I’m home all day tomorrow but what about Monday? I’ll be at the school all morning.
Take care,
Abby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Well, it won’t be long now, will it?” said Sharon Fremont to the air during Sunday lunch.
Abby and her father exchanged a glance and then turned interested faces toward her.
“The holidays,” said Sharon in explanation. “It’s November. It will soon be Thanksgiving and then Christmas. What kind of entertaining shall we do this year?”
Abby smiled to herself. She thought she might actually enjoy the Festive Season this year. Thanks to Nick. In the past, Sharon had used the various Christmas brunches and soirees to promote Abby as a matrimonial candidate. This year, Abby could go and enjoy herself and not be afraid that if she had a conversation with a man that her mother would come up and measure him for a morning coat. And she thought the men would be relieved as well. She had noticed that since she had ‘got’ Nick, she could have interesting conversations with men without them watching every word to make sure that nothing came out that sounded remotely like a request for a date.
“…to Chicago?”
Abby tuned back into the conversation. “Pardon me, Mother.”
“Abigail, your head is in the clouds these days! I said, why don’t we invite your young man for Thanksgiving?”
A small sound escaped Abby, sort of a cross between a squeak and a groan. It was a sound of strangled dismay mixed with muffled surprise with a dash of panic thrown in.
She cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Um…I…he…Thanksgiving…yes…um… Well, I’m sure he…uh…he’ll probably want to be with his own family.” Abby knew that was pretty far from the truth but that was the story she was going with.
“Well, still, it would be polite to ask him,” said Sharon.
“Yes, dear, it would be nice to meet him.” John stepped into the arena. “I’ve heard nice things about him.”
Abby looked at her father. “You checked him out?”
“No, no,” said her father quickly. “I would never do that. It’s just that…people mention him sometimes.”
Abby was hard-pressed to think of a conversation her father could be involved in that would ever revolve around Nick Carter. She looked down the table at her mother, whose face was a mask of bland innocence.
“If I find out…” began Abby, but she was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Mrs. Smith didn’t come in on Sundays, so Abby rose from her chair.
“I’ll get it, Honey,” said John, waving her back to her seat. He was anxious to escape the room before Abby inquired too fully into his investigation of Nick Carter, which he had, of course, undertaken, at his wife’s request…demand would be a better word. He sighed and picked up the phone. “Fremont residence?...Yes…One moment, please…”
John poked his head into the dining room. “Abigail. It’s for you.” He grinned and winked. “I think it might be…”
Abby was past him and out into the hall before he had a chance to finish the sentence.
“Is it him?” demanded Sharon, placing her napkin on the table and rising half out of her chair.
“Sit down, Sharon,” said her husband. “You are not going to eavesdrop.”
Sharon Fremont sat back down and narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Of course not,” she hissed. “I just wanted to remind her to invite him for Thanksgiving.”
“That will be up to Abigail,” said John, his tone of voice ending the conversation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“Hello.”
“Hey, Abby!”
Abby moved swiftly. She took the handset from her father and sped through the living room, closing the door, and into her father’s study, closing the door. She thought about hunkering down under the desk, but she figured if she wasn’t far enough away from her mother’s sharp ears by now, she never would be.
“Nick! Didn’t you read the email? I said I’d be out tomorrow, not today.”
“I wanted to talk to you, not leave a message. Was that your dad or the butler?”
Abby laughed. “We don’t have a butler. That was Daddy. Did you tell him who you were?”
“He doesn’t know who I am?” teased Nick.
“No, I meant…oh, you silly…” Abby shook her head and commanded herself to stop sounding like she was twelve.
There was a small silence, while both tried to think of something to say.
“I loved the picture of you in your costume,” said Nick, after a moment. “I’m going to have to get one of those digital cameras. Be the one to take the pictures for a change.”
“That would be different for you, wouldn’t it?” said Abby. “I’m betting I can find a picture of you in your costume if I go looking…”
“Yeah, the photo services were there…and a couple of reporters…they asked about you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that you were doing a charity Halloween party in Chicago. I think they thought it was for underprivileged children or something. Was it?”
“Lord no, it was an excuse for rich people to play dress-up. But it was for charity and the money will filter down to the underprivileged at some point. And speaking of people asking…I want to tell you before my mother comes in here and snatches the phone out of my hand…she is planning on inviting you for Thanksgiving weekend, so get your excuses ready…”
“I accept.”
“…I told them you’d be with your own family, but that won’t stop my mother…”
“I accept.”
“…so just be ready…”
“Abby, I accept. I’ll come to Chicago for Thanksgiving.”
“What? You mean really come…or do what we did before…like a virtual turkey thing or something?” Abby’s heart was pounding and she seemed to have lost the power of coherent speech. And then realization dawned. “How bad was it yesterday?” she asked softly.
In California, Nick smiled. Good girl, Abby. You got it in one. He blinked back the tears that threatened. “It was awful. I felt like I was being pulled apart. My dad told me about his dinky apartment and how he didn’t know if he’d be able to travel with the boat team, as much as he wanted to be there to represent his beloved son…”
“Emotional blackmail at its finest,” said Abby. She could easily recognize it. Her mother was a Grand Master in the field.
“Yeah,” said Nick with a sigh. “And my mother was worse. Because she actually worked up a few tears. And they both want me to come for Thanksgiving. No, let me rephrase that. They both invited me for Thanksgiving. I honestly think they’d be happier if I went to the other one so that they could hold that over my head forever.”
“Martyrdom 101,” said Abby. “My mother teaches the course at the local College.”
Nick laughed. “Oh, Abby. You always make me laugh. I sure needed that today. So…” Nick cleared his throat. “I would be very happy to accept your mother’s kind invitation to spend Thanksgiving in Chicago with you and your parents.”
“Are you sure, Nick? My parents can be…”
“So we’ll go for a lot of walks! How about that?”
Abby opened her mouth to protest and then shut it. What are you doing, you fool? she asked herself. This is exactly what you need. Both of you. To be seen together. “Okay, you’re right. And we’ll use my digital to get a ‘happy couple’ shot that you can show AJ.”
Nick laughed. “I’m seeing him next week. We’re doing the video shoot. I can’t wait to tell him. I’d better make flight arrangements first so that I can prove I’m actually doing it. When should I come?”
They talked it over and decided that Nick would fly in Thursday and fly out Sunday morning. Abby would pick him up at the airport.
“And if you’re a really good boy, I’ll let you drive my car,” she said.
“Not in Chicago traffic, thanks,” said Nick, remembering his last ride with her. “Find me a nice secluded straightaway, though and I’ll take you up on it.”
“Oh, I know a few of those…hang on, I hear my mother coming.”
“That’s okay. I’ll let you go. I’ll write to you tomorrow and I’ll see you in three weeks.” Nick did not want to be forced into a conversation with Sharon Fremont.
“Yes. That will be nice, Nick. Bye.”
Abby disconnected and sat at her father’s desk, her emotions whirling around her like butterflies. She tried to sort through them. Well, there was panic over there. She wondered if Nick could survive a weekend under the watchful eye of her mother. She wondered if she could. And that little butterfly hovering over there was…well, that seemed to be panic too…what if they didn’t like being in each other’s presence. They were great on email and all, but… Abby remembered how they kept hurting each other at the Lodge. A calm little insect fluttered by to reassure her that they were nearly six months along the road from that. And then all the butterflies settled into one place and she found the emotion she was really feeling. She was happy. She was going to see Nick again. And that made her happy…nervous, scared, slightly nauseous…but happy.
