Southern Belles, a Novel About Love, Purpose & Second Chances (9781310340970) Read Online Free PDF Page A

reminder of her parent’s imposed expectation for
her future. I believe that’s partly why CeCe has preferred being at
my home to hers. Our families and homes are vastly different. While
my mother did a wonderful job at decorating and keeping our house
cozy, it was definitely not as impressive as CeCe’s. Our farmhouse
was a two-story 3,000 square foot home where several generations of
Buchanan’s lived and raised their family. It echoed character all
throughout and donned a wrap-around porch with plenty of seating
and comfort for our entire family after a long, summer’s day of
work in the orchard. My mother too made it her job to ensure that
everyone who visited felt welcomed and special. Aside from all the
splendor of her home, CeCe would often come over and melt into one
of the well-worn sofas in the living room or the porch swing and
blend right into our family’s philosophic conversations about God,
love, and politics.
    Laid out on her bed was a long navy blue
dress with quarter-size white polka dots and a scalloped neckline,
accompanied by a three-inch belt covered in the same fabric.
    “CeCe, that’s a beautiful dress. It looks
like the one in Pretty Woman,” I said awing it.
    “I know she drives you nuts but it’s a
pretty dress and it’ll be gorgeous on you!”
    Shaking her head, CeCe picked it up and
unzipped the back of the dress. Quickly shedding her clothes, CeCe
stepped into the dress.
    “Can you zip me up Char, please?”
    “Sure.”
    CeCe fastened the belt so that it perfectly
hugged her waistline, giving her a flawless hourglass shape.
Turning side-to-side to see herself in the standing mirror, she
broke into a reserved smile.
    “You look stunning Cecelia Kathryn
Crawford!” I said happily reaffirming her with words she needed but
rarely heard.
    Still quiet and taking herself in, I added,
“you must admit she has really good taste.”
    “No, I just make this dress look good.” She
laughed as she whirled around beaming.
    “Okay, let’s go make mommie dearest
happy.”
    In addition to calling the maid ‘mom’ CeCe
also enjoyed calling her mother ‘mommie dearest’ to quickly grab
her attention. When CeCe was young and left alone with the maid,
nanny, or butler, she watched all kinds of movies, documentaries,
and biographies including the one that portrayed the famous Joan
Crawford as a mentally unstable and wicked mother in her personal
life. CeCe was amused that not only were both women highly
egotistical but also shared their last name, Crawford. One of
Joan’s adopted children, Christina, wrote a biography about her
mother deeming her film career as the most important thing in life.
She alleged that ‘the children’ were just a publicity stunt to gain
more popularity amongst the public eye and boost box-office ticket
sales. Christina claimed that her mother was less than nurturing
and that she never felt wanted by her mother—but was more of a prop
to appeal to the nuclear family.
    I knew CeCe’s mom loved her and that she
wasn’t mentally unstable or wicked despite her less than adequate
affirmations of love towards her daughter. Beverly Crawford, put
frankly, was a workaholic and a perfectionist who got so wrapped up
in her work that she lost sight of the important things in life
other than fancy handbags. She too was driven by the need to
conquer and succeed all obstacles in her path. Everything she did
fed a need that protected her from an extra helping of self-doubt
and the fear of being vulnerable to scrutiny of any kind.
Projecting the image of flawlessness was something she and CeCe had
in common. CeCe, though, kept the idea of being a prop shoved
neatly in a small file at the back of her head, right where she
could easily access it, with little reminders from her mom like the
one time her mother forgot her eleventh Birthday. It was a good
thing that CeCe’s dad paid attention to the important details. When
her mother finally got home that night, both CeCe and her