A Mother's Wish: Wanted: Perfect Partner / Father's Day

“You need to be physically fit. Think about it, Mom. When’s the last time you ran an eight-minute mile?”

Meg didn’t need to consider that at all—she already knew the answer. “Never.” She’d jogged around the track during high school, only because it was required of her. The lowest grade she’d ever received was in phys ed.

“See?” Lindsey said to Brenda.

“We’ll work with her,” Brenda answered. “But we’ll have to start soon.”

Lindsey crossed her arms and carefully scrutinized Meg. “About your clothes, Mom.”

“My clothes?” Meg cried, still astonished that her daughter wanted her to run an eight-minute mile. She owned a bookstore, for heaven’s sake. In the eight years since she’d bought out Mr. Olsen, not once had she been required to run for anything.

“I want to know what’s going on here,” Meg said. “Now.”

“I promise we’ll answer all your questions in a minute,” Brenda explained. “Please be patient, Mrs. Remington.”

Lindsey sighed. “Mom, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but when it comes to your clothes, well … you need help.”

“Help?” And to think Meg had been dressing herself for the past thirty-some years. Until now, no one had bothered to tell her what a poor job she’d done.

“I’m here to see you don’t ever wear high-waisted jeans again,” Lindsey said, as though pledging her life to a crusade. “They’re called mom jeans,” she whispered.

“So you two are official members of the fashion police?” Meg asked. Apparently they’d issued an APB on her!

Lindsey and Brenda giggled.

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“We’re here to help you,” Brenda said in loving tones.

“We’re here to keep you from committing those fashion sins.”

“What sins?” Meg should’ve known. “Do you mind telling me what this little heart-to-heart is all about?”

“You, Mom,” Lindsey said, in a voice that suggested the answer should’ve been obvious.

“Why now? Why me?”

“Why not?” Lindsey responded.

Meg started to get up, but Lindsey directed her back onto the bed. “We aren’t finished yet. We’re just getting to the good part.”

“Honey, I appreciate what you’re doing, but … “

“Sit down, Mom,” Lindsey said in stern tones. “I haven’t told you the most important thing yet.”

Meg held up both hands. “Okay, okay.”

“Like we already said, you’re still young,” Brenda began.

Lindsey smiled sweetly. “You could have more children if you wanted and—”

“Now wait a minute!” Meg cried.

“What we’re really saying is that you’re quite attractive.”

“Or I could be,” Meg amended, “with a little assistance from the two of you.”

“Not all that much,” Brenda added sympathetically. “We just want to get you started on the right track.”

“I see,” Meg muttered.

“Together,” Lindsey said, slipping her arm around Brenda’s waist and beaming a proud smile, “we’re going to find you a husband.”

“A husband.” Meg’s feet went out from under her and she slipped off the bed and landed with a solid whack on the carpet.

Lindsey and Brenda each grabbed one arm and pulled her off the floor. “Are you all right?” Lindsey asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

“You should’ve been more subtle,” Brenda said accusingly. “There was no need to blurt it out like that.”

Meg rubbed her rear end and sat back down on the bed. “What makes either of you think I want a husband?” she demanded angrily. She’d already been through one bad marriage and she wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

“When’s the last time you went out on a date?” Lindsey asked.

“I don’t remember,” Meg snapped. “What does it matter, anyway?”

“Mother, it’s clear to me you aren’t thinking about the future.”

“The future? What are you talking about?”

“Do you realize that in three years I’ll be in college?”

“Three years,” Meg repeated. “No-o, I guess I hadn’t given it much thought.” Although at the moment sending her daughter away actually seemed appealing.

“You’ll be all alone.”

“Alone isn’t such a bad thing,” Meg told them.

“At forty it is,” Lindsey said dramatically. “I’ll worry myself sick about you,” she continued.

“She will,” Brenda confirmed, nodding twice.

Meg figured it was a good thing she was sitting down.

“Tell me, Mother,” Lindsey said, “what would it hurt to start dating again?”

“Honey, has it ever occurred to you that I’m happy just the way I am?”

“No,” Lindsey returned. “You aren’t happy. You’re letting life pass you by. It’s time to take action. I don’t know what went wrong between you and Dad, but whatever it was must’ve been traumatic. You haven’t had a relationship since—have you?”