Page 50 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

“Thank you,” Olivia said brightly before offering her own hand. “My name is Olivia. You can call me... Olivia.”

“Simple and to the point. I like it!” My mom beamed brilliantly, then turned toward the table, smoothly moving along with her walker. She normally used the cane, so I couldn’t help but wonder if she was sore from all the fun activities she had been up to, or if she wanted to look sure on her feet in front of Olivia. Either way, I’d get her in with a massage therapist for a little bit of relaxing therapy.

Was it too soon to send her and Olivia on a spa day?

Perhaps. We probably needed to get through this first meeting before I started planning stereotypical mother-daughter activities for two women who had only just come face to face with each other.

“So, my Keith tells me you come from a huge family. You don’t see that a lot these days, what with the economy being what it is. I bet you have all sorts of crazy stories.”

“You’d win that bet,” Olivia said brightly as we sat down at the table.

A charcuterie board and drinks had been set out on the table. I knew I was paying an arm and a leg for such service, but I couldn’t help but think that every single elderly person deserved this kind of treatment, and it was a shame that it came with such an exorbitant price tag.

Something to think about as I got older myself. Granted, up until recently, I thought that would be something that I was doing on my own. But now, when I looked into the future, there was a certain curvy and hilarious woman by my side.

“I don’t know which of my stories Keith has repeated to you,” Olivia said, “but did he tell you about the time my older brother knocked brown sugar into my mother’s marinara and tried to balance the recipe by adding a whole bunch of other things in?”

“This is the first time I’m hearing of it! The only story Keith has told me was one about your younger brother going through a growth spurt where he grew six inches in one summer and then something about a blind uncle?”

“Ah! That first one is absolutely true. I’ve never seen a single person eat so much in a month, and that second one is about my great-great-uncle Vincenzo, who doesn’t have the best low light vision in his advanced age. He sort of tumbled into a gully during one of our family ru—walks.”

“Oh my god! Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. A little scraped up and very embarrassed.”

My mother looked dubious, and I didn’t blame her. Although I trusted Olivia completely, some of the things she said felt a hair to the left of the full story. I usually figured it was a bunch of family context I was missing, but it was kind of validating to see that my mother’s instincts quirked up in the exact same way.

“I can imagine. I haven’t had my first big fall yet, but as an active older person, I’m aware that it could happen at any moment. I’m not looking forward to that.”

“Older person? Please, you can’t be a day over forty-five.”

“Bless your heart, you are a saint. Now what was this about a fateful, impromptu marinara doctoring?”

I listened as they bantered back and forth. I cared for both of them deeply, so seeing the broad smiles on their faces and hearing them laugh so effortlessly was the perfect environment for a Sunday afternoon.

I hadn’t been nervous about them meeting, not like Olivia had been, but it was still a relief to see them hit it off. I dipped in and out of the conversation, allowing my mind to wander and imagine a future I never thought would be possible before.

“Wait, so Gladys was the one with the stranglehold on the knitting group? Or the water aerobics instructor who refused to be aged out?”

“No, no, no, Gladys was the former Regina George of this place who I had to deal with when I first got here.”

Wait… my mother knew about Mean Girls?

Wait, I knew about Mean Girls?

“Georgina was the one who thought herself the queen of the knitting group and wouldn’t allow anyone else to use synthetic yarns, and Giralda was the water aerobics instructor who was so old, she kept falling asleep on her towel beside the pool.”

As strange as it was for me to hear my mother call someone else old, I remembered that saga. It was right before my mother had to bust up a love triangle she unwittingly got involved in when Marcus and Phillip, two bachelors in the home, set their sights on her.

“Ah, okay, I got it now. Sorry, just a lot of names.”

“How many siblings do you have again?”

The laugh that left Olivia was sharp and surprised. “Point taken! Pot meet kettle and all that.”

My mother reached over and patted Olivia’s hand. “My dear, you are a whole cauldron, and don’t you forget it!”

I didn’t know if that was a compliment or not, but with the way Olivia was smiling, she certainly took it as a positive so I did too.