It was scorching hot in L.A. the day I met my son's new girlfriend for the first time. A new book I had to read for work sat, mostly untouched, on my lap as I lounged in the sun on a pool float that cooled me down. Moments like these were rare with three teenage boys home for the summer. I adored them, of course, especially since my wife had died last summer. Time was precious. That being said, I still needed my alone time between Charlie's soccer games, Oliver's band and play rehearsals, and Bennet's...well, Ben was 22 and 'still finding himself,' as he liked to say. So he was home all the time for the summer, having dropped out of his second college in four years.
"Diana!" Charlie, my youngest, had taken up the charming habit of calling me by my first name since his other mom passed. I tried not to hold it against him, but, eventually, the grief timer would run out on his antics. He continued yelling, "There's someone by the gate!"
I sighed. Because he was only 13, Charlie didn't have the code to open the gate from the inside. His older brothers must've been somewhere else in the house, unable to hear the buzz. Charlie knew to get me first. So I paddled over to the edge of the pool and let myself onto the cool pavement around it; when we were designing the house, we'd sprung for the acrylic overlay so the pool area didn't get hot under the blazing western sun.
I grabbed my lacy coverup off one of the lounge chairs even though it didn't conceal much. Since I was tanning, I was wearing one of my smallest bikinis to keep lines to a minimum. When I was on the lounger, I even untied the straps and let them rest on my breasts so that I wouldn't have any lines on the shoulders. I slid my feet -- freshly manicured from yesterday -- into my pool sandals and used my fingerprint to open up the tempered glass back door. As I walked in, a cool blast of air from the vent above the door instantly cooled me down. I'd had the idea after a few years spent in Las Vegas, where all the resorts try to entice people in with air conditioners pointed directly over the doors. The house had an open floor plan downstairs so that I could see the front door from the back. When I locked the back door behind me, the glass frosted itself so that nobody could see in but we could still see out.
I wasn't ashamed to admit that my late wife, Lucy, and I had done well for ourselves. She'd been a plastic surgeon and I continued to work as a head editor for a publishing house, specializing in acquiring books from celebrities and influencers. Altogether, we netted in the seven figures for the entirety of our marriage. It was rare for a lesbian couple, much less an interracial one, to succeed like that, so, yes, I flaunted my house in the hills, my well-done breast implants, and the butt sculpted by a well-paid personal trainer and personal chef.
Leisurely, knowing it was probably just a package one of the boys had ordered that needed a signature, I walked up to the call box, pushed the button, and said, "Diana Seymour; what do you need?"
An anxious woman's voice came back through the speaker. It surprised me; we didn't get many visitors here because of the highly secured development, and the visitors we did get were usually my work associates or muscular security men delivering packages or information. The girl said, "I'm Ella. Ella Madison. Benny gave me the address."
Benny. Ah. I hit the unlock button. "Come in; make sure the gate clicks behind you."
"Charlie," I called over my shoulder, knowing that he would be lurking nearby (no matter how much he protested the accusation and acted out, he was a mama's boy through and through), "would you mind finding Bennet? There's a girl here for him."
Charlie scampered off up the main curved stairwell, toward the wing where all their bedroom suites were. I watched through the glass door as this Ella character -- who must've been Bennet's latest girlfriend since nobody else called him 'Benny' -- nervously approached the house. Most people did. She was around Bennet's age, maybe 21 or 22, and held a box with a ribbon in her hands.
I could tell immediately she was out of Bennet's lead. My children were my world, and I knew I spoiled them rotten, but I had a brain and two eyes. Bennet was a trust-fund baby with his own Bentley, yes, but he was also...hm. Simple. He'd done well enough at the private school with plenty of resources I'd put the boys in, but I doubted he'd ever actually finish a college degree as much as he tried. He preferred partying to studying, preferred beer to wine, and preferred girls with no brain cells over anything else.
Ella struck me as different, but I still wondered if she'd be just another girl trying to marry into the family. She was Black, maybe biracial, with medium-toned cool skin and a thick layer of freckles all over. She wore her hair in thin knotless braids, half-up and half-down, with pale teal extensions woven through to her ends. She was curvy like Lucy had been in her youth, carrying most of her weight in her hips and thighs. Wearing a pair of loose, pleated paper bag shorts and a tied short-sleeve button down, she seemed smart and modest. I knew well that looks could be deceiving, of course, but I could usually get a good read on people, especially when it came to who my children hung around with.
I opened the door before she could knock. "Ella. Good to meet you."
She took in my figure, my clear skin, and my long hair with only one streak of gray at the front. Her eyes widened at the emerald Cartier engagement ring and wedding band set I still wore around my neck. Her voice shook. "You're Mrs. Seymour?"
"In the flesh." I offered her my hand, which she took hesitantly. "But, please, call me Diana. Or Dr. Seymour, I suppose. I'm not a 'Mrs.' anymore."
"Right, Benny told me about your loss. I'm so sorry."
I waved my hand and said, "It's been a year. Lucy's my soulmate, but I live in the present now. She wouldn't want me to be sorry."
Ella awkwardly handed me the box she'd brought, which was an assorted collection of chocolates. "I brought these for you."
"Trying to win favor with the witch mother?" I chuckled, but her eyes still widened. I'd gotten used to the look over the years; I'd earned a bit of a reputation as a tiger mom, but I didn't see anything wrong with wanting and working for the best. I gave her a pat on the shoulder and assured her, "Well, good work; I've got a wicked sweet tooth."
I winked and went over to the kitchen to give the box a place on the counter. Bennet came down the stairs, his heavy footsteps plodding. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation -- both literally because I was making myself a pitcher of lemonade to take back outside in the open floor plan and out of my own curiosity.
"Babe," Bennet started, edging close to her, his voice loud, "You should've seen the crazy party I threw last weekend with Pudd. Someone brought a fucking snake -- like a big ass boa, not some little thing. It got wild."
"Oh, really? That sounds... interesting," Ella replied, her tone uncertain.
"Interesting?" He teased, "Come on, I know how to have a good time, you know? You should've rolled up. Would've been way better with you there."
"Well, I'm not really into wild parties or anything like that," Ella admitted, her discomfort palpable.
