Falling for My Son's Best Friend by Cassandra Dee

Author:Cassandra Dee [Dee, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-02-11T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

Stacey

It was shocking, my mom getting married.

“Ana, I’m getting married,” she announced one day, not even looking up from her laptop. Her nails clacked, fingers flying in a fury, and that’s how I found out I was going to have a new dad … and two new stepbrothers.

I was surprised, beyond surprised really. My mom is a workaholic, someone who travels a lot as a bank executive, and it’s been a good living for the last ten years. It was a shock when my dad divorced her, leaving nothing in his wake. He’d been a sneaky bastard, emptying their joint bank account, their safe deposit box, heck, even taking some of the jewelry my grandma left her.

But my mom is tough. She was a bank teller back then and despite her broken heart, the endless crying jags, she showed up at work each morning like nothing had happened, her suit perfectly pressed, ready with a firm handshake and calm smile. Some women are born resilient, and Virginia was the best.

And I’m proud because she’s done well. Management liked Mom, the way she was always punctual, her natural way with numbers, how she was meticulous with money, even though it was just helping little old ladies with their retirement accounts at first. Mom was promoted, then promoted again, then again and again, until she was Senior Vice President with a shot at the top job. Can you believe it? My mom, who doesn’t have a college degree, is in competition with a bunch of Wall Street guys with slicked back hair and perfectly-cut, thousand dollar suits.

But it’s a lonely life, working 7 a.m. to midnight, so I was surprised to hear that she’d even met someone, much less gotten all the way to marriage.

“Who is it?” I asked, my eyebrows raised. Had she met someone on the job? That was the only plausible explanation, she had no time to socialize. But I was wrong.

“He’s a nice man, I met him at a coffee shop,” she said, still barely looking up, fingernails clacking away at the keyboard. “You’ll like him.”

Okay, at least this wasn’t an interoffice romance that would get her fired. But I was still curious.

“Name?” I pressed. It was unlike Virginia to be so secretive.

“Gordon Jones,” she replied, finally looking up. “He’s an insurance exec, a widower, lives out in White Plains with his sons.”

I knew I should have asked more about the man, about his family, but all I could hear was “White Plains,” a desolate suburbia thirty miles north of Manhattan.

“Um Mom,” I said slowly. “Sorry to intrude, but does this mean we’re moving out to White Plains? Or are they going to move in here? Or,” and here, I hoped against hope, “we’ll just stay separate?” To me, anything other than NYC was the boonies, much less the outer boroughs. In fact, White Plains wasn’t even outer boroughs, it was Westchester County. Right? Maybe I was wrong, but I sure as hell didn’t care. Anywhere other than Manhattan was a living death.

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