Rustic Hearts

Sophie

Four hours later, Charlotte and I walk into Marea on Central Park South. The hostess spots us immediately and motions for us to follow her to a quiet table in the back where my mother and stepfather are already seated with a bottle of red wine breathing. Stanhope stands when he sees us approaching. He’s a towering man with silver hair and kind eyes, dressed in an expensive, custom gray business suit. He reminds me of Michael Douglas, and my mother is very much his Catherine Zeta-Jones, more than a decade younger and a classic beauty. Once we are seated, he motions for the waiter to pour the wine.

“Darling, I can’t tell you how proud Stan and I are of you. I always knew you were destined to light this city on fire.”

My mother has always been my biggest cheerleader. I know she was disappointed when I showed zero interest in the performing arts. Her greatest desire was to be an actress, and she wanted so badly to pass that passion on to me. She named me for Sophia Loren after all.

Mom was a dancer and vocalist. Those talents—along with her long, dark hair, ice-blue eyes, and svelte figure—got her cast in a handful of background roles in a few off-Broadway musicals through the years, but she never quite achieved the level of stardom she’d dreamed of reaching.

Once she knew it wasn’t in the cards for her, she set her sights on her little girl becoming the next Kristin Chenoweth. Unfortunately, I had been born with two left feet and without the ability to carry a tune.

I tried dance lessons and voice lessons from some of the most renowned instructors in New York, but she finally had to accept that her daughter was a theater dud.

One thing I have always been good at, however, is drawings. So, she decided to help me hone those skills, and she and Stanhope paid for fashion design school. I think she was hoping I would be the next Kate Spade or Vera Wang, but the way she is beaming at me at this moment tells me that she would be thrilled if I were to become the next Harry Winston instead.

“Yes, Maple and Park, that is quite impressive. You must be extremely excited,” Stanhope says with pride in his voice as well.

“I am—and a bit nervous. I hope they like the designs I present to them and, more importantly, that their customers like and purchase them.”

“Oh, nonsense. Stop biting your bottom lip,” my mother says as she swats at my face. “Everyone is going to love them.” She brings her hand to her chest, and her voice catches with emotion as she adds, “And with Judy wearing one of your brooches at the Tonys—the Tony Awards—that’s just incredible. That buzz will make you the go-to designer for jewels for galas and events for the rest of this year’s award season. You need to make sure that you send a few unique pieces to a couple of A-list stylists for free as well.”

“Now, now, Viv, I’m sure Sophie knows what she is doing. We don’t need to meddle.” Stanhope placatingly pats her hand as he delivers the blow.

My mother is the master meddler. Especially when it comes to my life. I’m the only thirty-two-year-old I know whose mother still hovers like she did when I was a child.

“Of course she does, but there is no harm in a few helpful suggestions, now is there, darling?”

“Not at all, Mom.”

The waiter arrives to take our orders and opens another bottle of wine.

“Charlotte, how is that brother of yours doing? Is he still at Harvard?”

“Yes, ma’am. He has one more year of law school.”

“Your parents must be so proud. Does he plan to move back to New York after graduation?”

“I’m not sure. He seems to love the Boston area.”

“Boston is a lovely town, but Manhattan is the place to be for any bright, up-and-coming corporate attorney. You should give him Stanhope’s contact information. Perhaps Stan could make a few beneficial introductions for him.”

Charlotte gives me a pointed look as she answers, “Sure thing, Mrs. Marshall. I’ll pass that along next time we talk.”

“Mom,” I warn, “we’ve talked about this. Alex and I are not getting back together.”

“Never say never, darling.”

“Never. There, I said it.”

“Oh, Sophia, I don’t know why you insist on being alone. A strong, independent woman does not, by definition, have to be a single woman. I want you to be as happy as I was when I met Stan. Being his wife is my greatest joy. Can’t a mother want that for her daughter?”

What she means is, she wants me to find a wealthy man with a prestigious name and let being his wife be my greatest joy. I know my mother loves Stanhope, but I also know that love would not be enough to keep her joyous forever should he wake up pe

“Mom, I don’t need a husband to have joy. I’m very happy. If the right relationship comes along, great. If not, that’s okay too.”

“Speaking of, I gave your number to my friend Lydia. Her son, Lawrence, recently bought an uptown loft near your office, and she thought maybe you two could meet for drinks or di

“Mom, you didn’t,” I groan.

“He’s handsome and successful and just a sweetheart. He picked her up from the club the other day in his new McLaren, and he offered to take us both to lunch. Such a gentleman and a real estate mogul. He has purchased and flipped an impressive number of properties in SoHo and Tribeca and is doing a renovation in the Hamptons. That boy is going places.”

I roll my eyes in Charlotte’s direction.

“Can’t you meet him for drinks? He moved here all the way from Atlanta, and he doesn’t know that many people in the city. He could use a friend if nothing else.”

“Viv, don’t push.”

Stanhope gives me a sympathetic look. We both know that once my mother gets an idea in her head, come hell or high water, she will co

“Fine. If he calls, I’ll be happy to meet him out. As a friend.”

At that, she beams her gorgeous hundred-watt smile at me.

Charlotte chuckles and then coughs out, “Sucker,” under her breath.

I am indeed a sucker when it comes to my mother.

We finish our meals, and Stanhope orders one of every dessert they have on the menu along with a bottle of their best champagne.

We toast to the future, and for the first time, I feel like I’ve found my niche in this world. I’ve always felt a little like an outsider here. It’s been twenty years since we landed in Manhattan, and it has taken me all this time to feel like I belong. I’m not the Colorado imposter anymore. I’m a true New Yorker, a businesswoman, and my career is just taking off. I can’t wait to see what comes next.