Her Mom & I Share a Birthday Pt. 01

Yeah, just over the horizon was her Dad and the end of tour job change in mid-January. We just took it one day at a time. But way down deep I recognized that this could just be a brief fling if I got sent remote. She is well settled here. And we're still in radioactive heat. Crap, crap, crap.

Thanksgiving came and went. Her parents always had their family Thanksgiving at their house. I went home and cooked for Mom, all the while texting with Charlotte like teenagers. Mom knew something was up, but was polite.

And then a week or so after I was back, we were cleaning up after dinner, both at the sink, and it was quiet and warm. We had a fire going. Without thinking, I leaned into her and said, "Hey, I love you, [pause] and I mean it this time." She smiled, kissed my cheek.

Later, snuggling in bed and watching the weather talk about snow tomorrow, she nudged me, sighed, and said, "OK, I need to double check. I asked you this once before, so don't con me. Are you for real?"

"Yeah, I'm breathing and generating heat."

"No silly, really for real. I swore I was not going to open up to anyone ever again for a long, long time, but here I am."

"Charlotte, you've seen me every way possible from fumbling 7th grader to modeling unmentionables to doing unmentionables with Mia. And then I risked life, limb and career with the champagne stunt. So yeah, this is me."

She sighed again. "Yeah, you did, didn't you?" Deep breath and then, "I love you too."

On rare occasions, I know when to say nothing. I held her closer. And started to tear up from fear of losing her in six weeks.

THE REAL BILL FOR THE CHAMPAGNE IS PRESENTED

The division Christmas party is this Saturday. The division had met their goals, and it was time for the trainees to move on. Still, we both agreed it was not yet the time to come out to her parents. See what my assignment was and then see what our options are. She stressed a CPA is portable, but we have terminals in some rather remote locations. I work on staying in the moment.

Anyway, you would think 30 Something's would be a little wiser, a little more aware. But no. We're not.

The running club I joined had their Christmas 10k the morning of the party. It gave me a chance to cruise without worrying about cars. I spent the race planning for anything that could come up and seriously wondering what we would do if indeed it was Minot. She's happy and successful here. Reality -- shit squared.

Charlotte was spending the day helping with whatever her Mother needed. And so it was bit of a surprise when I got a text that said for me to be there about 15 minutes early. It wasn't her number but it was signed C, so maybe she borrowed a phone. Big big big risk though to have me show up early, no one shows up that early, but whatever it is----- quick secret conference in the garage before the show starts to coordinate or behavior? Steal a kiss (you little pig)? I said OK.

I rang the doorbell at 6:45. Mrs. Jordan opened the door.

"Charles, you got my message. Good, right on time," she said.

The hairs on my neck stood up and combusted. 'Her' message. Oh crap. Not C for Charlotte but C for Caught.

"You look nice, the blazer suits still you well as I recall from the Hilton," she remarked.

"As do you ma'am. The dress is very flattering," I choked out. It was a classic LBD, long sleeved and scoop back, with four-inch heels. She's clearly going for first place in the MILF of the Night competition.

"It's Denver. Some folks will dress up a bit; others will be in jeans. And call me Chelsey,"

"Sorry ma'am. I gotta stay with ma'am or Mrs. Jordan. It's hard wired," with more coughing.

"Suit yourself; but I do take your point. Anyway, I need you in the kitchen. Did you swallow something wrong?" she solicited. I shook my head and got out, "Thanks, I'm OK. Some water, please."

The house was big; the kitchen followed suit. Charlotte was at the end of the island taking some sort of puffy pastry off a baking sheet and putting them on a platter. She had on a burgundy long sleeve shift midi dress with a six inch slit (Victor's training paid dividends, I could recognize her dress). Dark hose and four-inch heels like her Mother.

She looked up as we entered. Her eyes widened, and she went through three color changes.

"What are you doing here?" she barked.

I froze. "You texted me."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did, be here 15 minutes early -- C."

"Since when have I sent you a text signed C? Was it from my number?"

Mrs. Jordan cleared her throat. "Oh Gee, did I misunderstand my daughter's special signature for her texts to you? Ooooppss." She giggled to herself.

Charlotte turned to her. "You?" Her voice went up an octave.

"Yep, we need to talk."

"About what?

"About this Missy."

"Please don't' call me that, jeez!! What this? There is no this!"

Mrs. Jordan turned to me. "You want to jump in here?"

"No ma'am, not yet. We need the smoke to clear a bit." Suddenly, realizing the jig was up, I really needed to be with Charlotte. Caveman Reflex-- XY chromosome --Testosterone -- Whatever. I moved down to the other end of the island. A half a foot seemed close enough. And her glare confirmed it. She did not realize the jig was up. Meanwhile, her Mother came down the other side.

"We're listening," I said.

"Ok, I'll be quick. Since the Hilton I've known something was going on with you two. When we ran into him, the laser beams from your eyes would have melted steel. Your usual ice-cold indifference to an attractive male your age was missing."

"Uhhh, ma'am. That was truly an unexpected encounter. Absolutely random."

"Whatever, and thanks again for the champagne, excellent taste."

I nodded.

"But a few days later, you young lady, started calling me once or twice a day. That hasn't happened since, well you know. And you called your Grandmother some too---who's coming by the way. Then remember a couple of weeks ago, Dad, in passing, not sure why, casually brought up talking to Charles about the champagne. And you mentioned that no way would you be involved with one of his new employees for fear he would send him to the Arctic Circle."

"Oh crap," I blurted. They both looked at me.

"I told him the same thing, except I said Thule."

Mrs. Jordan nodded. "Yep, and those remarks triggered memories from his Air Force days. As he told me, you don't screw up within---"

I interrupted, "-----50 feet of the flagpole."

"Huh?" Charlotte said.

"Don't get caught by the Big Boss," I said.

"So I asked you here a little early to see what's up and if her Father needs to worry about you using his only child to get an inside edge."

Instant emergency acceleration to Warp Factor 9, I could finesse Mr. Jordan as the facts had not hardened, but she was just waiting for the mouse to run out from the bush---just substitute Charlotte for Victor, be vague about shared interest, you can do this. Surreptitious deep breath through the nose. The blush is rising, but take care of this. NOW!!

"OK--OK. Charlotte and I met in a random encounter at the Hilton in June, both walking the Mall, both ending up in the lounge, I asked if she would mind some company, she was reluctant, but allowed as how I could sit for a moment. Turns out we had some similar interests (like extremely profitable live porn telecasts). I told her why I was in town and where I worked, etc., etc. She mentioned nothing at all about her Dad. Nothing. In fact I was much more interested in getting to know her than she was in me, for now obvious reasons. We would share a drink every couple of weeks. But nothing further. When I met y'all at the Hilton, I had no idea who you were until Mr. Jordan stepped up and then when Charlotte appeared, well, you almost ended up with waffles in your lap. I'm sure Charlotte's reaction was a light speed response to the fact she had withheld who she really was and now there's trust issues, and maybe I confront her in front of y'all. But I did not. On the way back to my table, however, I decided to go for broke, literally--- as you can tell from the vintage. Later, she called and came over, we talked, she apologized, I apologized. Here we are."

Charlotte stepped over and put her arm though mine.

"You're not a lawyer are you?" Mrs. Jordan asked with a grin. "That sounded like a closing argument."

"Mom's a lawyer," Charlotte muttered.

"That would have been nice to know."

"It never came up."

"So you two 'talked' it out for quite a while together and decided what?" the slight sarcasm was effective.

I moved my arm and put it around Charlotte. "I decided I like your daughter a lot. But if I may make another point, Ma'am, you don't know me, but any impression that I might be trying to gain some advantage by dating Charlotte, is absolutely, totally wrong. I'm not built that way."

She gave me a hard look, then shook her head. "OK kids---I'm convinced, but that's not the end of ii."

She gave a big sigh.

"Let's deal with the here and now first. Not that anyone ever arrives on time, but there could be a first. Dad is watching the Broncos with a couple of friends in the den. Charles, go be a majordomo and welcome folks. And you, Missy, is there a cigarette in your bag? Back porch now."

Charlotte grunted, "Stop with the Missy please, I'm not 12."

"Says the girl blushing like there is no tomorrow," her Mother retorted.

As I turned to go, Charlotte reflexively picked some debris off my jacket and brushed it smooth. I side-hugged her, whispered she looked beyond stunning, while watching Mrs. Jordan watch her daughter and smile.

As I waited by the front door, I could see them on their deck. I wondered if I had overplayed the explanation. Crap crap crap. She's a lawyer. Crap crap crap.

People began to arrive. After a while, Charlotte tapped me out. I raised my eyebrows; she shook her head and said "Later", then whispered, "We're good, really. She's with us. Nice finesse on how we met, by the way. Go hang with your group."

I whispered back, "Survival school lesson - - give the interrogator enough of the truth so that the story can be verified with others. If ever asked, just switch you for Victor."

I joined my class. We're making small talk about possible assignments and the good and bad of the training. Everyone is slightly uncomfortable; all but one other are married. I had not socialized much with them as I'm ten years older and my Saturday nights were spent elsewhere. I would have been odd man out on age alone.

Charlotte floats by our group and stops for a moment, checking that everyone is comfortable and there's fresh crab puffs coming out of the oven.

And then she's gone. One of the wives nudges me and says she's quite attractive and did not have a ring on; to which I say she's probably one of the senior group's daughters just helping with hostess duties, about which time she is talking to Mr. Jordan and he has his arm around her introducing her to an older couple - -the finance guy I think. I smile and say, "Uhh yeah, she's way out of my league," which gets a chuckle all around.

Moments later Mr. Jordan wanders our way, shaking hands with everyone, meeting the spouses. A brief hand shake, pleasantries, gratitude for our hard work, more about that a little later, enjoy yourselves and then off to another group. Classic cocktail party behavior.

So I wandered off in search of a brownie. I'm addicted to brownies, and I saw a large plate when I was in the kitchen. I really need a brownie, please.

I walk up to the table and spy the pile. Now to find a plate that can hold three or four---I'll pay for it tomorrow. As I pick up the plate, my arm is grabbed. Not someone from the office, she was older and very bohemian. "Hey," she said. "I'm Charlotte's grandmother." Looking at my plate, she then said, "Ah brownies. My daughter doesn't make them like I do. They're too plain. So, look," she said as she reached in her purse and pulled out a baggie, "Here, take an edible, it'll make the night more tolerable."

"Ahhhhhhh, no thanks", I reply. "The company drug tests." We did when I was hired of course, but it seemed the best escape route.

"OK, well, anyway, so you're the one sleeping with Charlotte?" She launches a broadside.

I pull up straighter, lift my nose a bit, and say in a slightly haughty tone, "A gentleman does not discuss such things about a Lady."

She cackles, "Good answer. Tell me something about yourself so I can figure why my oh so darling and precious granddaughter who only sees me on family occasions wanted to make sure I was coming here tonight."

"Uhhh, that's out of the ordinary?"

"You know, you looked bright at first, but now I'm not so sure. Here's a clue. When you're first in love; you're in love with everybody."

"Oh," I mumbled.

"So give."

And I give her the postcard version as ordered.

"Hmmmm, pretty dull, a lot like her Dad who I barely tolerate, way too stiff, I still don't get what my daughter sees in in him. Anyway, you need to gain some weight," she instructed. "Two more things. First, she's been seriously hurt before, and I can find out where you live." She then got a merry look and whispered, "By the way, twins run in the family." A quick hug and she was headed back to the kitchen hollering for Charlotte to get her coat.

I mingle some more with folks from other offices. After a while, Mr. Jordan calls everyone together. He gives a nice summation and pep talk for how well a year the Ops Division had. He thanks a few specific folks for exceptional work. A small nod to us and the hours we put in. He advises our assignments will be out Monday. He wishes us safe travel home and then he and his senior group go back to the den. I guess this is so the party can be a business expense. Charlotte would know; probably does their taxes.

I give my regards to the group and go looking for Mrs. Jordan to pay my respects and then hopefully, a word with Charlotte. She's with a couple of ladies, so I wait. They hug and leave, she sees me, motions with her head towards the breakfast nook. Charlotte's tucked in the corner. She shakes her head as I walk over, so I lean up against the wall across from the table and try to disappear.

Not too long after, Mrs. Jordan walks over.

"Well, looks like the darling young couple have found a place to be alone. Why aren't you cuddling?" she laughs. "Oh, did you sneak him upstairs to see your old room?"

Charlotte looks worn out, shakes her head, doesn't answer. "Haven't had the tour," I say. "But the first floor is wonderful."

She looks at me. "Thanks. So you're here for the 'thank you very much, I had a nice time' and then leave?" she asks.

"Yes ma'am,"

"You and your yes ma'ams," she grins. "You're not leaving yet. There's a lot of cleaning up still to be done."

"Actually or metaphysically?" I ask.

She gives me a knowing smile and nod and leaves. I sit down and start to say something, but I don't know what.

"Let's just sit," she advises.

"Can I say again how absolutely gorgeous you look?"

She dimples, but then goes back to moderately glum.

15 minutes or so pass. I note it has gotten pretty quiet. Then Mrs. Jordan comes bouncing in.

"Had to go get out of those shoes; Ugh." she chirps. She opens a drawer, rummages, and then tosses two aprons at us.

"You've washed dishes?" she challenges.

"Since I was six," I toss back.

"Well, you've got a few years on her, so let's see how you handle this management exercise."

Charlotte's eyes get huge.

"Let's go," I say. "This may be a chance at redemption."

I turned my back to her Mom.

"One thing I've learned about your Dad is he likes to challenge folks," I whispered.

"Same with her, she tough on the Associates," she whispered back.

"Cool. Learn the rules, win the game. Work together, divide the labor, but I follow your lead, you know the kitchen," I offered.

"Works," she said. Then she grinned and whispered, "As Vincent would say: In 3-2-1."

I stepped back and said, "You know the layout here, so I go fetch?"

And she replied, "My thoughts exactly, once it's all in here, we re-organize."

As I was leaving, she said to her Mom, "In past years, you had a service. Cost-cutting?"

"Something like that," came the reply.

We finished close to midnight. "I think Mr. Jordan is in the den," she said. As we headed that way, she grabbed Charlotte telling her to get her purse, and out they went to the deck. I took the long slow route with a detour to the bathroom. I stopped at the door. ESPN was recapping the day. He gestured at the couch.

"They went outside," I said.

"Stress relief," he shrugged.

"Have a good day?" he asked.

"A lot like Basic--started with a 10K run, filled up the middle of the day with spreadsheet work, and then midnight KP," I said.

He snorted. "Give me a break, Sergeant. Air Force Basic was nowhere near that hard."

"Thought you were an Officer?"

"Basic, then OTS. They were running short on officers at the time."

The ladies then came in, I could feel the night chill as they got close. I stood. Charlotte paused, looked around and then dropped next to me on the couch. It was hard not to look at her legs as the dress rode up. Gee, I'm about to get fired, and I'm thinking about her legs.

He stands up and glares. "It's late. I'll get right the point. Are you two an item?"

We looked at each other. I paused, shot my eyebrows at her.

She leaned forward, "Do you mean are we dating, friends with benefits, moving in together, shopping for rings, I've got a due date? We're both 30 you know."

I visibly flinched. This was not the time to poke the Bear.

And the Bear responded, "Simmer down Missy---."

Which provoked her yet again, "I'm not 12; I'm a grown woman."

Having been warned previously, I am now sure I will never call her Missy again, or any facsimile thereof.

He relaxed his tone a little bit, "I apologize, that was not well phrased. Here's the problem. I've got three more years on my contract, the company has a no nepotism without board approval policy, and here my daughter is in --he waved his hands searching for the word--'something' with a promising recruit. There's more than enough stuff going on in the world; I don't need another problem."

He continued, "You both made errors in judgment that could have gone real sideways. You should have told him who you were the moment you knew he worked for me. I'm sure you thought an occasional meeting for a drink was going to go nowhere, especially since we always send them out to the field as a first assignment. A calculated risk and no way from couple of a casual dates would you know he might be sticking around, or that he might be attracted to your peculiar charms, or that the impromptu meet the parents at the Hilton would lead to this."

Both she and her Mother hmphed.

He then pointed at me, "And you---did you take these sorts of chances flying. You're airborne; you're a flight examiner. You enforce standards. You don't take risks unless absolutely mission essential. You want to impress a girl, go ride your bike without any hands. Buying champagne for her Mother, and then telling me it was not to get our Daughter's attention? Sergeant, that's your one free spin for the rest of your time with this company, however long that may be. I sincerely mean it."

Mrs. Jordan tittered, "I thought it was darling."

He shook his head and continued, "Nope, this silliness ends tonight. Charles, I had already decided on your assignment back before the Hilton. Although I am sorely tempted to change it to Minot."

He glared.

Now it's my time to poke back. I reached over and took Charlotte's hand. "Nice place to start a family; long way to go visit grandkids though."

"Or I can fire you," he retorts.

Still holding her hand, I lean forward, "Or I can reenlist, complete OTS in a weekend, make O-6 in 20, and get a nice cushy job with a logistics firm. Who knows how far away we and the grandkids will be stationed."