I stirred on the crisp sheets, but refused to open my eyes. I heard nothing, not the window air conditioning unit that hummed incessantly. Opening just a sliver, I was greeted to warm hues and not mint green walls. The Newport house was my home for the weekend. Afraid to look at the clock, I didn't want to commit to being awake on my day off. A throb in my head reminded me I had drank scotch with my father, after the wine with dinner. My tolerance was intolerance, with too much work and champagne functions to blame.

Sighing, I summon the courage to look at the time - seven-fifty. Right on time to help with breakfast. I could cook a few things, and waffles topped the list. My mother loved to cook and only hired kitchen help for large gatherings. Our kitchens were designed for the family. We had a housekeeper, but my mother cooked most of our meals. Through the years, I learned some basics. She told me and my younger brother, JJ, we could impress girls if we knew our way around the kitchen.

Not bothering to shower, I slip on shorts and started downstairs in my bare feet. As I approach the kitchen, I hear voices. The scene of my parents quietly enjoying their coffee touched me. There was a companionship between them I longed for. Talking to Dex at the end of each day was lacking, and going home to Oreo didn't fill the void either.

My track record with relationships wasn't good. I managed to find women who were more interested in my name and wealth. Ace struggled more, because of his fame. He loved to go out and meet normal girls. The number one rule had been to only use our nicknames, but those days were few and far between.

My mother turned to me. "What's the frown for?"

I shook my head and gave her my crooked smile. "Just thinking."

If JJ was awake, he'd say something about not seeing steam come out of my ears. Having recently passed the bar, he was smarter than me, but I had more common sense. He and his friends acted like idiots.

My mother smiled as she stood and kissed my cheek. I graciously bent over for her to reach it. The woman cried the day JJ grew taller than her. She loved her sons, but I suspected her greatest wish was for a daughter.

"Get the flour out, we'll start the waffles."

My mother put the buttermilk on the counter as I measured the ingredients.

She smiled at me. "You need a wife to cook for."

"The options are gold digger, self absorb or..."

"What about Amanda?"

My assumption proved correct. I stared at her in disbelief, thinking of a kind way to tell my mother the truth. I've met annoying women, but she took the prize.

My father shook his head, seeing through his wife's motives. "We could have bought a wife for the price it will cost to fix up his old house."

"I'll find my own wife, thank you. I can pay for the renovations myself too. I'm supposed to see the proposal Tuesday, it's been weeks."

Alicia rubbed her hands together. "I want to see what she comes up with."

I mixed the batter with a wire whisk. "Be my guest. Is it hot?"

She nodded and handed me the can of canola spray. While I poured batter into the hot iron, she went to the sink to rinse and hull the fresh strawberries.

"These berries look amazing. What time Tuesday?"

"Four-thirty." I looked at my Dad. "I cleared my schedule."

He nodded. There was no question about my productivity. I could rest on the laurels that came with my last name, but I hoped to take over operations when my father eventually retired. My mother glanced at her husband. There was an unwritten rule that time in Newport was for family, not business. The problem was three out of four worked for the business.

He cleared his throat. "JJ wants to tee off tomorrow. Care to join us?"

My insides pretzeled into emotions meant for a kid. My brother and father were much better at golf than me. My nickname said it all - Duff for Duffer. I would enjoy playing if my little brother didn't tease me. The part of me that wanted to say no felt about ten.

I shrugged as I lifted a golden rectangle off the waffle iron. "Dad, first one?"

"I won't make you twist my arm."

I continued to make waffles until the batter was gone. JJ appeared with mussed hair in flannel pants.

"I dreamed I smelled food."

He sat and dug right in. "Oll, these are as good as Mom's."

Attention and praise felt wonderful.

"Boys, what's on tap for today?"

JJ said, "Can we hang by the pool? It's the weekend."

Ironic laughter slipped out. My little brother had teased me about being no fun anytime I suggested a relaxing weekend.

I slapped his back. "Welcome to the working world."

Dad eyed me. "I could be persuaded into a tennis match or two."

I nodded as my mouth savored the fluffy, golden delights that I had slathered with maple syrup to satisfy my persistent sweet tooth. Tennis was something I didn't suck at.

JJ did, however. "Count me out. I'll be by the pool."

Every week, weekends become Monday. Monday morphed to Tuesday and my best effort to clear my schedule for the meeting with the designers blew up in my face. More accurately, a complaint from an agent about an abrasive employee landed on my desk. By the time I facilitated appropriate apologies and conciliations, including a loss of revenue for R-SP, I was late leaving the office to head home.

Thankfully, my mother was never late. It was borderline annoying how early she arrived places. She could entertain a sloth and already liked Amanda, so I wasn't concerned about being delayed.

The traffic gods worked in my favor, so I only arrived ten minutes late. Entering from my garage into the kitchen, I found my mother and Emma talking. What surprised me most was Oreo sitting content in Emma's arms. My eyes savored her thin figure stopping at each curve. Tall and thin was my preference, and what I saw checked all the boxes. Before I could greet them and ask about Amanda, she appeared.

"Oh! Oliver! You're here!"

Oreo hissed and jumped down.

"Ow."

All heads turned to Emma, as she examined long scratches on her bare arms. I felt the guilt once again as I took command.

"Wash the scratches with soap and water."

She looked at me. "It's fine."

The shrill voice turned my head. "She's useless, always getting hurt. She tripped over dust the last time."

Dust was my cat or power cord, either applied.

My mother should have been a foreign diplomat. "Amanda, dear? Are you set up in the dining room? Let's see."

As they left, I filled a glass with water from the disperser in the fridge door. Meanwhile she washed the scratches. I stepped behind her to get a closer look at the damage, just as she turned around. She bumped the glass in my hand, causing it to slip from my fingers and shatter on the hard ceramic floor. The front of me looked like I pissed myself. Both of us had instinctively jumped back, but I was not spared.

Her hands went to her mouth. "I'm so sorry."

The other two rushed in.

"Emma Joslin, what have you done?"

My mother calmly said, "Oliver, darling, go change. I'll get the glass. Are you okay, dear?"

Emma stood frozen. Protection ran through me instinctively. "It was my fault, I dropped my glass. I'll be quick."

I made a fast exit, and as I shed my wet suit for jeans, I wondered if I might kill the poor girl.

Thankfully, I returned to find the three in the dining room looking subdued and professional at the table I had purchased it at Ikea. It took me and Dex hours to put the legs on and it wobbled. Maybe we shouldn't have started drinking beers before we opened the box.

All eyes were on me as I approached. Smiling confidently, I sat next to my mother.

"Everyone good?" My gaze went to Emma, who nodded slightly. "Okay, then let's do this."

Overwhelming was the word best describing Amanda's presentation. First, it was hard to follow as she jumped from one room to another. What I grasped didn't appeal to me. I appreciated she didn't suggest anything frilly, but it was all masculine. So much that it felt cold and utilitarian - a black kitchen with a cement floor. I had trouble imagining a relaxing morning with fluffy waffles and soft company. My decor shouldn't scream remodel to my future wife the day she moved in.

My mother shifted in her seat as our eyes met. When Amanda finished speaking, she looked very proud. Emma had studied her scratches for most of the presentation. She didn't look up until Amanda's voice grew louder with excitement.

"So what do you think?"

In my job, I had been put on the spot often. The situation I dealt with earlier was uncomfortable. Diplomacy, I learned as my mother's understudy.

"It's overwhelming."

It was true. I knew the work was extensive but the list which ranged from demolishing the kitchen to installing central air ducts to painting walls.

Amanda looked from me to my mother with a thin smile. Had she expected us to grin at her ultra modern designs. I live in an old, traditional style home. If I liked modern, I would have bought a trendy condo like Dex.

"Do you have any specific questions?"

Did I? "Yes, where do you envision my poster?"

She studied me for a moment. "I thought you were kidding."

I shook my head in utter disbelief. "No. I was quite serious."

My mother cleared her throat. "I think we need to study it and get back to you."

Amanda smiled triumphantly and stood. "I have another engagement. We started so late." She glared at Emma before she allowed my mother to escort her out the door.

Before Emma could flee, I commanded. "I want to get a good look at your arms." Under my breath, I added. "And your knees."