Santa's Posse

Santa's Posse by Rosemarie Naramore Page B

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Authors: Rosemarie Naramore
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blue eyes.  With concentrated effort, she managed to keep
from lifting a hand to her lips.  They still tingled from the delicious kiss.
    He smiled.  “I’ll
call you soon,” he said, turned, and hurried back across the lot.
    She stepped into
her condo, closed the door behind her, and moved to the living room window. 
She watched across the parking lot, until only a couple moments later, he
jogged out of his condo.  He was dressed in uniform, and to her surprise,
glanced up and met her gaze.  His eyes locked on hers.  She felt a curious
physical jolt from the sustained eye contact. 
    Finally, he
nodded, waved, and climbed into his unmarked car.  The sound of the car’s siren
still echoed in her ears moments after he had gone.
               
    ***     
     
    “Okay, fill me
in,” Kellie’s mother Marcia said delightedly.  “I want all the details.  How
did you meet him?  What does he do?  What does he look like?”
    “Mom,” she said,
“we’ve only just met.  You’re getting way ahead of yourself. No need to book
the church just yet,” she added drolly.
    Her mother was
silent for several long seconds.  “I’m not that bad, am I?”
    “You can be,” Kellie
answered honestly.
    “I want
grandkids.”   
    “You have grandkids.”
    “None from you.”
    She couldn’t argue
the point.  “How’s Dad?”
    “Changing the
subject?”
    “Do you blame me?”
    Marcia sighed. 
“You’re right.  I know I push.”  Her mother was silent for a moment.  “Honey,
you know I’m proud of you, right?”
    “Well … sure,” she
said, surprised to hear the words from her mother’s lips.  She knew she would
have preferred that she’d followed in her brothers’ footsteps and been married
by age twenty-five.  But heck, twenty-nine wasn’t old.  She had plenty of time
should she wish to eventually settle down. 
    “Honey, in less
than a year, you’re going to be thirty, and then…”  The pause that followed was
heavy with meaning.  Unfortunately, she didn’t have a clue what it meant.  She had
no doubt her mother would soon fill her in.
    “Yes, Mom,” she
prompted tiredly, wondering what had possessed her to give her mother that
verbal encouragement, and wishing she’d taken something for the headache she
knew was forthcoming.
    “When you hit
thirty, you’ll be closer to … forty than twenty!”
    H eadache ! 
    Kellie sighed
loudly.  Count to ten .  “So?”
    “Just saying…”
    “Okay, well, I’m
going to bed.  I’m suddenly feeling…”
    “What?” her mom
asked fearfully.
    “Old.”
    “Oh, honey,” she
scoffed, “you’re not old.  Not yet.  But…”
    “Mom, I’ll call
you about Thanksgiving…”
    “You haven’t told
me about your young man…”
    “He’s not my young
man.  And we’ll talk later.”
    “Come on, honey,
just give me one juicy tidbit.  He has to be special if you’re giving
him the time of day.  Anybody who can get your mind off of your work has to be
special.”
    Kellie was silent
for a second or two, and then replied, “He’s closer to forty than twenty.”
               
    ***
     
    The following
Monday, Kellie sat at her desk, her facial expression pensive.  Jill entered
her office, and she hardly noticed.
    “My, you’re
preoccupied,” Jill remarked.
    She sighed.  “I
was just thinking about a conversation I had with my mom.”
    “Oh?  Is
everything all right?”
    “She thinks I’m old.”
    “You’re not even
thirty!  If you’re old, I must be dead.”
    Kellie chuckled,
but quickly sobered. 
    “What’s the
trouble?” Jill asked with concern.  “You know you’re not old.  There has to be
more to this story.”
    “Yeah, I suppose.”
    “Go on,” she
prompted.
    She sighed again. 
“Mom’s never agreed with my career aspirations.  She’s all about home, hearth,
grandkids.  You know how it is.  Sometimes she gets to me—makes me feel as if
I’ve failed some test.”
    Jill

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