Practice Makes Perfect

While it might seem odd to some people, the fact that she celebrated Father's Day with her mother gave Payton little pause anymore. It was something the two of them did every year, alone, even continuing the tradition after Lex and her husband had moved out to San Francisco when Payton started college.

Payton had virtually no memory of her father—he and her mother had split up shortly after she was born and he had come to visit her sporadically for only a couple of years after that. And while her father's lack of interest in maintaining a relationship was something that had upset her earlier in life, at thirty-two years old she was pretty much over it. Her mother rarely spoke about Shane—as even Payton referred to him—and as a result she felt wholly disconnected from him. She didn't even share a last name with her father, since he and her mother had never married.

Apparently, however, they had one thing in common: she had her father's eyes. At least that's what her mother used to tell her, in sort of a wistful way, when she was younger.

In response to Payton's comment about the restaurant, Lex looked around with a critical eye. Per Payton's request, they had a table by the window overlooking Michigan Avenue. As one of the few parties of two that morning, it had been an easy request to accommodate.

"Sure, it's a nice place. If you're into the whole brunch scene." She turned her scrutinizing eye to Payton. "You fit in here."

Payton sighed. "Mom—"

Lex held up her hand. "It's not an accusation, Sis. I'm just having one of those 'mom' moments where I wonder what happened to the little girl who used to dress up in my old clothes as a gypsy for Halloween." She smiled fondly. "Do you remember that? You did it five years in a row."

Payton didn't have the heart to tell her mother that the reason she had dressed up as a "gypsy" was because she had known even as a little girl that they couldn't afford to waste money on store-bought costumes.

"Now you look like you should be on a runway in Paris or something," Lex continued, gesturing to Payton's outfit.

Payton laughed. Hardly.

"They're just work clothes," she said. She wore tailored black pants, heels, and a V-neck sweater. It was unseasonably cool for June that day, even by Chicago standards.

If Payton had ever wondered how she'd gotten to be so sarcastic, well, consider that question answered.

Lex looked up from her drink at Payton's silence. "What?"

"Sorry. Now I'm having one of those 'daughter' moments, wondering when, exactly, I turned into my mother."

Lex smiled. "Aw, Sis, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. Because of that, I won't point out that a cow had to die in order to make your purse."

Payton glanced up at the ceiling. The woman went through eighteen hours of labor to give her life, she reminded herself. Drug-free.

"Let's talk about something else," she told her mother. She inquired about Steven and his daughters, who were around the same age as Payton and lived in Los Angeles with their husbands. Her mother talked about her work at the shelter, the circumstances that had brought in some of her newer residents, and then—in a rare expression of interest—actually asked Payton a question or two about how things were going with the firm. Payton answered in generalities, seeing no reason to go into the whole partnership issue since there wasn't any news yet on that front. Instead, she talked about her cases, even getting a laugh out of her mother when she told her about the six-foot penis photo that was Exhibit A of her current trial.

"A six-foot penis, huh? That puts to shame any I've ever seen." Lex threw Payton a sneaky look. "Although, did I ever tell you about this guy I met at Woodstock—"

Payton cut her off with a hand. "No. And you never will." Her mother's "free-spirit" open-door discussion policy was something she could do just fine without when sex was the topic at hand.

Lex sat back, disappointed in being unable to tell her story. "Wow—when did you get to be such a prude?"

With a shock, Payton realized what had just happened.

She had become Laney.

"I don't think it makes me a prude just because I don't want to hear about my mother's back-in-the-day free-love sexual antics," she retorted.

"Fine, we'll talk about you instead," Lex threw right back at her. "Are you seeing anyone these days?"

Payton had debated all weekend whether to tell her mother about the Perfect Chase. He was out of town, visiting his parents in Boston, and when he got back in that evening, he had plans with his friends, so whether to introduce him to her mother had not been an issue.

It was strange, because for once she was dating someone with whom even her mother would have trouble finding fault, yet still she hesitated to bring him up. Perhaps she just didn't want to jinx things.

"Actually, I just started seeing someone a few weeks ago," Payton told her mother. "You'd love him." And as she went on, describing Chase, it struck her once again what a great guy he really was. And she—being the logical, pragmatic person she was—knew that he was one of those men that no woman should let get away, even if the timing wasn't the greatest. Even if she was presently sidetracked with other things.

Meaning work, of course.

ON THEIR WAY out of the restaurant, Payton and her mother stopped at the coat check. The unseasonably cool weather had provided the perfect opportunity for Lex to go off on another of her diatribes about the politics and economics of global climate change. Payton nodded along distractedly—yes, yes, suppressed scientific reports; certainly, the government had undermined efforts; of course, hidden agendas over oil; indeed, the planet was headed toward imminent catastrophe—as she collected their jackets and tipped the attendant with one hand. In her other hand she held the daintily wrapped but sizable box of food her mother had insisted they take for the "unhoused" people (her mother refused to say "homeless") that they had passed on their way into the hotel.

Payton struggled with the cumbersome box as she tried to find the other sleeve to her jacket. She reached back, groping, still feigning interest in her mother's lecture, when—

—someone held up her jacket and gently settled it across her shoulders.

Grateful for the assistance, Payton turned around—

—and unexpectedly found herself staring at J.D.

She blushed. No clue why. "Oh. Hello."

"Hello," he smiled.

"It's you."

"It's me."

Payton suddenly felt the need to appear casual. "So we're here for the brunch," she said breezily. "They said it was the best in the city for Father's Day."

"You're here with your family, then?" J.D. asked. He appeared curious about this.

Before Payton could respond, she heard a not-so-subtle cough behind her. Shit!—her mother. She had completely forgotten about her.

Normally, Payton liked to give people a preparatory speech before they met her mother—topics of conversation to avoid, what not to wear, and if a meal was involved, what not to eat. Men introduced to her mother needed additional coaching, at least several days' worth of Lex Kendall 101. Despite all this, very few people—even normal, perfectly harmless people—managed to come through an encounter with her mother unscathed.

From behind Payton came a second, more pointed cough.

J.D. and her mother could not meet.

And if they did, she absolutely did not want to be anywhere in the vicinity. Payton eyed the door. Was it too late to make a run for it?

J.D. pointed. "Um, Payton? I think someone's trying to get your attention."

Oh, bloody hell. Payton turned around and saw her mother's fierce gaze—nobody put Lex Kendall in a corner—and reluctantly made the introduction.

"J.D., I'd like you to meet my mother, Lex Kendall. Mom, this is J. D. Jameson. He works with me at the firm."

Payton watched as J.D. politely shook her mother's hand. It felt strange, the two of them meeting. She quickly tried to think—was there any safe topic, anything they had in common? She came up with zilch. Nada.

Lex carefully looked J.D. over, suspicious from the outset. Payton knew she was making mental note of the expensive cut of his pants, the fine quality of his dark gray shirt, and the way he wore his jacket, without a tie, in an effortlessly stylish look.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kendall," J.D. said.

Payton winced. Already a screwup, and on the basics at that. Having kept her own name, even after marrying Steven, Lex Kendall was no "Mrs."

J.D. smiled at her mother, obviously unaware of the shaky ground on which he stood. "I hope you and Mr. Kendall had a nice brunch."

Oh . . . no. Payton saw her mother's eyes flash.

"Well—J.D., is it?" Lex led in with what could only be described as a "tone." "Putting aside your blatant patriarchal biases in assuming the necessary presence of a male familial figurehead, yes, I had a nice brunch, thanks."

Payton rolled her eyes in exasperation. "He was just being polite, Mom." She glanced over apologetically at J.D., expecting to find him annoyed, irritated, offended, or some combination thereof.

But instead, he seemed amused. "My mistake, Ms. Kendall," J.D. corrected himself. "And thank you." He looked over at Payton, his eyes dancing. "Suddenly, everything has become much clearer."

Payton shot him a look. Very funny.

She was about to say something to extricate her and her mother as quickly as possible, before this encounter that teetered on the brink of disaster got any worse, when a voice, a woman's, came from behind J.D.

"If you don't intend to introduce us to your friend, J.D., perhaps your father and I should go ahead and be seated at the table."

Payton turned to J.D., her eyes wide. Now this was interesting. "You have parents," she said.

"Yes, shockingly, even I have parents."