***
“So lovely to meet you,” were the first words out of Red’s mother’s mouth as Nicole and Red greeted her at JFK Airport, while Red’s limo driver lugged two large suitcases to the trunk of the car.
Nicole was surprised at how different the woman seemed from how she’d imagined her to look and act. Based on Red’s descriptions, Nicole had thought his mother would look severe, deranged, like someone from a horror movie.
Instead, she found his mother to look and act a lot like any normal mom. In fact, she hugged Nicole warmly right away. Nicole could smell her flowery perfume as the two of them embraced. “So nice to meet you,” Nicole said.
“Please call me Erica,” his mother replied brightly.
She didn’t even look old enough to be Red’s mother, Nicole thought. She was dark haired but fairer skinned than Red, and although her hips were wide, Erica Jameson seemed to be in very decent shape for a woman in her late fifties.
The biggest telltale sign of her age was the slight sagging of the skin around her cheeks and chin, and the wrinkles in her neck. But they were small details, and the fact was, Erica looked fantastic for any woman at any age. She was wearing a black pantsuit with a ruffled white blouse, and a black Gucci purse was slung over one shoulder.
Red gave his mother a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. Nicole could sense his discomfort from the way his shoulders were hunched and the stiffness of his jaw. He’d been very quiet and closed off on the ride to the airport, but Nicole didn’t blame him.
She’d seen him ignoring his buzzing phone as texts and phone calls came in—he made a comment to her about waiting for Monday to deal with business. But Nicole knew it was killing him to have to worry about both his mother’s visit and the troubles with his company at the same time.
Nicole just kept smiling and put on a brave face, even though deep down the fear and anxieties were still there for her. She didn’t like seeing Red in so much distress.
“I’m so excited to spend time with both of you,” Erica said, as the driver opened the door for them to climb inside.
“Great,” Red said, his voice displaying little enthusiasm. “We’ll get you back to the house, you can take some time to recover from traveling and then I’ve got a wonderful restaurant booked for an afternoon bite to eat.”
“Actually, I’ve made us other plans,” Erica said, giving Nicole a wry grin and a wink.
Red’s face turned grave. “Other plans?”
The driver turned around in his seat. “Where to, Mister Jameson?”
Erica answered for him, leaning forward in her seat. “West 45th Street.”
The driver glanced at Red, who merely gave a slight nod and sat back, his lips pressed together tightly. Nicole tried to take his hand but he moved it to his knee instead.
“Is it a surprise or can I ask where you’re taking us?” Nicole said, trying to sound chipper.
Erica began rummaging in her purse. “I hope I didn’t lose them…” she muttered, as the limousine started moving slowly forward into traffic.
“Lose what?” Red asked.
Erica looked up at him with a little grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Yes, I would.”
Just then his phone began buzzing in his pocket, but Red ignored it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” his mother asked.
“No, I wasn’t planning to.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m trying to give me attention to you, and to my fiancé.”
“That’s nice, honey. But still, I think you should answer. It could be an important business call.”
He folded his arms. “What were you looking for in your purse?” he asked.
Erica smiled, once again giving Erica what felt like a secret look, as if they were already the best of friends. “I’m just going to wait a little longer before I ruin the surprise. I think you’ll both enjoy it, though.”
Red turned and stared out the window of the limousine. The way he looked now reminded Nicole of that horrible first night they’d spent together in the mansion, when he’d suddenly become strange and distant from her. She’d seen him sitting in his chair in the study, staring out the window and drinking as if he’d just heard a friend had died. That was the same night he’d been so cruel to her, and later, he’d thrown plates and glasses all over the dining room.
Nicole broke herself from her morbid reverie. “Miss Jameson—I mean Erica—what do you do for work?” she asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence that had descended over the car.
“I’m a nurse,” Red’s mother said.
“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.” Nicole meant it, too—she deeply admired caregivers and teachers, people who spent their lives dedicated to helping others first.