Odd Mom Out Read Online Free PDF Page A

passed me, the man of mythic proportions. “No.” I reach into the glass-fronted cabinet for one of my thick, hand-painted pottery mugs I bought in Mexico aeons ago. “There was a lady who nearly ran me over, though.”
    “Was she putting on makeup?”
    “Talking on her cell.”
    “Typical,” Eva drawls, and then looks at me. “So. Are you almost ready to go?”
    “Go where? I just got back,” I answer, filling the mug with coffee.
    “To the school.”
    “It’s
early.
And I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”
    “You can pour it in one of those travel mugs.”
    “I can drink it here.”
    “Mom—”
    “
Eva.
”
    “I’m just saying—”
    “And I’m just saying there’s eager and there’s absurd. You can be eager, but you can’t be absurd, okay?”
    She makes a humphy sound and twirls the tips of her long ponytail around her fingers. “So when will we go?”
    “Nine.”
    “
Nine?
” Her voice rises an octave. “And what will I do until then?”
    “You haven’t watched
Monsoon Wedding
lately.” I smile, grab my coffee, and head through the back door into the garden and to the office studio at the back. Once upon a time, I kept a laptop on the kitchen counter, but I ended up checking e-mail way too many times in the evenings and weekends, so now all e-mail happens in the office studio.
    The office studio is why I bought this house, although the studio was in shambles, with a leaking roof and small dark windows that didn’t get any light.
    I use the hidden key to unlock the studio door, then put the key back and flick on the lights. I’m just booting up my computer when Eva appears in the office doorway. “You said you were taking the weekend off!”
    “I am,” I say, typing in my password before dropping into my chair. “And working isn’t checking e-mail. Checking e-mail is checking e-mail.”
    “You spend
hours
doing e-mail.”
    “That’s business these days, baby.”
    “Mooooom.”
    I glance up, grimace. “I know, sweetheart, but this is what I do. This is part of my job, and I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”
    “You always say that—”
    “
Eva.
This is how I pay the bills, and you said you liked me working from home instead of at an office downtown. You said you’d rather me work from here because then you wouldn’t have to go to day care.”
    “But it’s Saturday.”
    “Lots of people work Saturday.”
    Eva sighs dramatically and marches back to the house. I watch her go, trying not to feel guilty. I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m a single mom. I have to work. But maybe I feel guilty because most of the time I
like
working.
    In New York, I was a vice president at the huge ad agency Keller & Klein, and when they approached me about opening a West Coast branch for them, I jumped at the opportunity. It was a huge honor as well as a risk, and I craved both.
    Unfortunately, Keller & Klein got bought by a big German media conglomerate shortly after we moved to Seattle. The German media giant shut down the Seattle office, and that’s how I ended up starting my own company, Z Design.
    I couldn’t yank Eva out of school once again, and not away from her grandparents. She’s still just getting to know them, and now she knows Mom is sick.
    It’s good, owning my own business. The hours are long, but I’m living my dream. I’ve a great staff, a thriving company, and financial stability. What more could I want?
    Outside, the fog is beginning to lift and a brave bee buzzes around the potted roses. I catch a whiff of the herbs—mint and lavender—planted outside the studio door, and after hitting send and receive, I wait for the e-mail to download.
    I love summer. I love sleeping in and the slow mornings where Eva can sprawl on the floor and watch her movies or cartoons while I have my coffee and do my thing. So many moms seem relieved when summer ends and their kids go back to school, but I dread the start of the school year. Sure, I accomplish more when Eva’s in