Chapter 23: Dell
The pitcher arrives with three glasses and I order things that I’m sure Arianna’s mother doesn’t normally touch. Tater tots. Fried mushrooms. I throw in some bread. We’ll want this train wreck of a drink to get absorbed by something.
I pour the Alabama Slammers.
Bridget lifts the glass and takes a tentative sip. She smiles politely and sets it down again.
I haven’t drunk liquor this cheap since, well, okay, since this morning. Alabama Slammers were a fixture of my youth, a mix of various types of alcohol and orange juice.
From the corner of my eye, I see Donovan weaving through the tables. Hell, I’ve forgotten he was fetching my mother. We’re pretty hidden back here and she may not be able to get away for long.
I stand and wave at him. When I sit down, I quickly tell Bridget, “My mother and brother are not aware that the baby is not biologically Arianna’s. We haven’t had time to sit with them about it.”
“This seems like the perfect moment,” she says.
Blast it all. We have no intention of saying otherwise. This is unraveling fast.
“Mom, no,” Arianna says firmly. “We have told you these things in confidence. Now is not the time.”
Donovan strolls through the tables, confident and friendly now that he knows where he’s headed. Most of the women take notice of him. He’s a natural flirt, stopping by and saying hello, whether they are sitting with a date or not.
Mom is behind him, looking weary and more than a little pissed off. She spies us at the table.
“You get kicked out of the Sky Box?” she asks. “I could have told you those people were too full of themselves to be around a normal person.” She stops when she sees Bridget. “Who’s this?”
I stand. “Mom, this is Bridget Hart, Arianna’s mother. They flew in this afternoon to congratulate us on the engagement. Bridget, this is Wynona.”
“Well, shit,” Mom says. “Why didn’t they come in last night so they could have been at the party?”
“It was a surprise,” I remind her. “You didn’t bother to tell us either.”
“Damn it all,” she says. “If I knew they could’ve come out, I would have told them.”
The two women do not shake hands. Mom stands uncertainly by Donovan on the far side of the table. Bridget remains seated. Her graciousness seems to be wearing thin.
Mom glances around. “I’m supposed to be on shift,” she says. “The empties pile up and there’s not enough highball glasses to go around.”
“I’ll message Beck, tell him to let you off tonight,” I say. I can pull that string in a heartbeat.
“Beck’s not my boss,” she says.
“Beck is your boss’s boss,” I say.
“You trying to get me fired?” she shoots back.
“You’ve worked here for forty years,” I tell her. “No one is going to fire you.”
“You haven’t met that twit who manages the crew now. Twenty-five and thinks she knows everything.” Mom’s hands go to her hips, elbows out. She’s brewing for a fight.
“Mom, sit down for a second,” Donovan says. He pulls out a chair for her.
She fusses with the apron around her waist. I realize she hasn’t said a single thing directly to Arianna’s mom.
Bridget has also gone unnaturally quiet.
I’m not sure how to bridge the gap between them.
The waitress brings the appetizers. The girl spots Donovan and her hip juts out a little. She pops a piece of pink bubble gum in her mouth and swings her ponytail. “Hey, haven’t seen you here in a while.”
“Been gone a while,” he says.
Mom pushes the plate away. “That bread only costs them ten cents and they charge four bucks for it. That’s a crime if you ask me.”
The waitress raises her eyebrows. “Don’t you work on the ground floor?”
Now my anger is starting to peak. “She’s with us for the moment,” I say firmly.
The waitress lets out a little huff, looking at Donovan as if he will defend her honor.
“She’s my mother too,” he says. “And Dell here is friends with Beck.”
“Shit,” the girl murmurs. “Sorry.” She backs away.
“Bring us some of those onion tanglers,” Mom says after her. “And you can forget your tip.”
She picks up a piece of the overpriced bread and takes Donovan’s silverware. “I haven’t ever eaten up here,” she says, opening a foil-wrapped square of butter and spreading it over the bread.
“Dad is with Arianna’s father,” I say to Mom. “We saw him on the escalators.”
“He’s inside?” She looks around, bread in her hand. “I guess they didn’t need him out with the dogs.”
Bridget turns to Arianna. “This was the woman in the picture you posted,” she says. “Was that the baby?”
Now Mom’s eyes light up. “Sweetest little girl in the whole world. Cute as a button and good as can be. Didn’t cry all day.”
“You spent the day with her?” Bridget asks. I think I catch a bit of jealousy in her tone.
“Yup, since breakfast.” Mom sets the bread on a plate. “Made a day of it. Donovan and Dell fixed the roof of the deck. And your daughter and I sat with the baby outside. It was a nice day for it.”
Bridget turns to Arianna with something akin to amazement. “Just a quiet day,” she says.
Arianna shrugs. “The weather is mild here for November.”
Bridget sits up a little straighter. “When do I get to see this baby?” she asks.
Mom’s face whips around to Arianna. “Your mama hasn’t met your baby?”
I jump in to save her. “This was your first weekend too,” I say. “We’re a busy couple with rather difficult jobs.”
“But that’s your mama,” Mom says, waving the knife between Bridget and Arianna. She’s adding butter to the bread. “She should have been up there when you were in labor. Helped out in those hard first weeks.” She sets the knife down. “Were you even there when she was born?”
Now Bridget is angry. “That child isn’t even hers.”
Arianna gasps. “Mom!”
Damn it all. This will take some cleaning up.
But my mom is chill. She takes a bite of bread. “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I never saw a mother more devoted to her child.” She chews, almost daring anyone to question her manners. “Though I’m wondering where she got it from.”
Bridget sucks in a breath. She turns to Arianna. “I think I’ve had quite enough.”
She tries to stand, but Arianna’s hand shoots out. “Sit, Mother. We don’t even know where Dad is.”
Bridget lowers herself slowly back into the chair. “I didn’t come here to be insulted.”
“Seems like someone is just speaking truth around here,” Mom says.
She is on a roll. I’m not sure whether to stop her or let it play out. I know how Arianna feels about her mother. Arianna loves her, but all the choices she’s made for her entire life stem from this one betrayal. Her mother leaving her to be raised by nannies.
Bridget turns to her daughter. “Have you told this woman things?” she asks. “About how we traveled? You know I only did it for all those wonderful charities that needed leading.”
Mom reaches for another piece of bread and carefully opens another foil butter. She no longer seems to care about missing her shift.
Donovan’s eyebrows are permanently glued in the lifted position. He catches my gaze, and his eyes widen.
“I did not say a word,” Arianna says. “Maybe it’s just plain that you were never around.”
Bridget brings her hand to her throat.
“I thought so,” Mom says. “Arianna, just let it out. Tell your mother how you feel.”
“You did leave me,” Arianna says, her voice breaking.
I wish her mother wasn’t between us. I can’t reach her hand to hold it.
Bridget draws in a breath. “But Arianna, that baby isn’t yours. You would have told me if you were pregnant. You said you’re adopting it.”
Mom shrugs at this comment, as if it is immaterial that the baby wasn’t born to Arianna now that we’ve gotten to the good stuff.
“I am,” Arianna says, realizing the lie is no longer necessary. “And I’m there for her. I’m not putting other things first. Dell and I have both gone part-time.”
Mom does cut in at this. “Who is Dell?”
Donovan stills her hands, buttering the bread so heavily that it appears frosted. “Hasmund goes professionally by another name,” he says.
Mom drops the bread entirely. “Is the name I chose for you not good enough? Are the McDonalds not good enough for you?”
Now Bridget seems pleased. “He goes by Dell Brant,” she says. “No one even knows the other name. He’s quite well off, you know.” Her face seems smug. “Funny that he has left you and your husband to toil at such low-level jobs while he has a plane and a penthouse.”
She’s gone too far. Mom switches from being upset at me to severely pissed off at her. “Byron and I don’t need any handouts, not from family or nobody. We live perfectly fine.” She stands up, tightening her apron. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”
Donovan and I stand too.
“Mom,” Donovan says, “Arianna and Hasmund are getting married. You need to find common ground with her family.”
“Ah, baloney,” she says. “They’ll go off and do their jet-setting life, and leave the hard work to the kids to raise the babies. It’s obvious they don’t get their hands dirty.”
She stalks off for the elevator. Donovan follows her, but I’m not sure what to do. Arianna is still sitting, her head in her hands. Bridget waits stiffly beside her.
“I’d like it very much if someone would fetch my husband,” Bridget says. “I’m quite through with Birmingham, Alabama.” She picks up her drink. “And this cocktail is atrocious.”
Arianna texts her father as I look around the restaurant. I’m not sure this could have gone any worse.