Peyton Church is a city girl by anyone's standards. Born and raised in New York City, she grew up wanting for nothing. She attended the most prestigious preparatory schools, shopped on Fifth Avenue, dined with the rich and famous and was adored by...
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IT TAKES SOME convincing, but I manage to convince my mom it's in her best interest to wake up bright and early on Saturday morning, and drive her favorite daughter to work for six o'clock. And by convincing, I mean I have to promise to keep this job for at least two months and agree to do laundry every Thursday night.
Having to wash my brother's novelty boxers is totally worth the extra forty minutes of sleep. I think.
"Natalie seems nice," I yawn into my travel mug of coffee as Mom backs the Jeep out of the driveway.
"She's always been a sweetheart. I hope you thanked her for giving you this job on a whim."
My eyes roll. "Of course, Mother. You did raise me right, you know."
Mom smiles, her eyes focused on the quiet streets. "You mean I spoiled you rotten."
"Nah, Dad spoiled me rotten. You talk me how to put on mascara and walk in heels. You taught me the important stuff," I grin, nodding my mug in her direction.
She pulls the Jeep into the empty parking lot of Pauli's Diner, turning to face me. "I'm proud of you, Peyton. You've done surprisingly well this week. I've seen a big change in you. A good change."
My changes are minor compared to how much my mom has changed in these few days.
In New York, she'd always been busy with some charity board or non-profit fundraiser gala or brunch with people I didn't even know that she called friends. The most mother-daughter time we ever had was when she took me shopping with her because she needed my opinion on a dress. She never cooked for us, or baked cookies with us. Hell, she never even wore yoga pants outside of the house.
Yet here she is, sitting in our secondhand Jeep at five-forty in the morning on a Saturday morning, wearing plaid pyjama pants and no makeup, telling me she's proud of me.
She didn't even tell me that when I got my acceptance letter to NYU.
"Thanks, Mom," I sniffle. I didn't even realize I'd gotten all worked up until I spoke. With one hand, I blot under my eyes with the edge of my jacket, coming away damp with I unshed tears. The sight makes me giggle, and Mom even joins in, filling the car with her light laughter.
After a moment, she smiles at me in the dim light. "I know it isn't easy, Pey. I also know I didn't help much to make it any easier. But, thank you, for pulling through with me."
"You're welcome, Mom. I don't know," I shrug my shoulders. "It's not too bad when you look past all the plaid and flannel."
Mom chuckles. "I love you, baby girl."
"Love you too," I shoot her with a toothy grin. "Hey, about this whole 'fitting in' thing, I actually heard about this little get together one of my classmates is throwing tonight. I thought it would be a good way to get to know some people. And, I mean, Jayden did say you're a cool mom..."
