The Cherry Blossom Tree

Cherry Chapter Eleven

Mom spent the entire night and all of the next day on a natural high. She called Jamison and Fredericks at eight AM Saturday morning.  Ned, the receptionist, had literally just walked in the door, answering the phone with more than a hint of trepidation in his tone.  As it happened, nobody had ever called the office before ten on a weekend unless there was a major crisis.  It turned out the people of Fort Sangrey liked their sleep ins.

Once he’d calmed down, Ned took Mom’s details and organised an interview with Heath Jamison for Sunday morning.  The office wasn’t open for business on Sundays, but Heath usually worked from eight until midday to catch up on his mammoth workload.  Hanging the phone up with a delirious grin on her face, Mom declared she had a very good feeling about the upcoming interview.

I didn’t tell her that in a town this small and lacklustre, she was probably the only viable candidate Heath had.  How many opportunities were there for people all the way out here to get a degree in paralegal studies?  I actually wondered how many graduated from Fort Sangrey High School and left to go to college afterwards.  To my knowledge the nearest university was the Univerity of Montana in Missoula, which was a five hour drive away.

In keeping with her fantastic mood, Mom declared Saturday a girls night and even went shopping for DVDs and fresh groceries to cook dinner.  Annabel and I were both apprehensive of Mom using more than the microwave in the kitchen, but we respected her enthusiasm and both agreed that if one of us died of food poisoning, the other could have all of her possessions.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about possibly inheriting Annabel’s famous condom collection, but then I was hoping it didn’t come down to it.

After a dinner of soggy vegetables, rubbery chicken, and fantastically fizzy store bought soda, we sat down on our new second hand sofa in the living room to settle in for a night of classics.  First was Sixteen Candles, followed by The Breakfast Club, The Sound of Music and Casablanca.  While we’d merely picked at our main course, we all gorged ourselves silly on popcorn, Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Brittle ice cream and Fig Newtons.

Halfway through Casablanca Mom realised it was one AM, and she hadn’t organised an interview outfit.  Under heavy protest she dragged Annabel and I into her room, where she proceeded to destroy her immaculate wardrobe in her mission to locate something “halfway decent”, as she put it.  Personally, I thought she could have turned up in jeans and a t-shirt and still be a shoo in for the job.

My comment was listed as not helpful, and so we spent a good hour narrowing down the options until we were left with the only pantsuit Mom had saved from her collection of work clothes in Manhattan, and a simple black, modest dress that hit her just below the knee, had capped sleeves, and a square cut neckline.  

“The suit,” Annabel and I said simultaneously.

Of course,  Mom spent a further twenty minutes hemming and hawing over the two possibilities, then ransacking the entire pile of reject clothes we’d already tossed on the bed, just in case she missed something.  We waited patiently and silently until finally, she conceded defeat and hung the navy pantsuit and matching white blouse on the back of her closet.  

Too tired to care much about the rest of her wardrobe, she grabbed large handfuls of clothing and tossed them back to where they’d come from, heedless of the fact they were crumpling on the floor.  Kicking the door closed, Mom let out a weary sigh and turned to face us.