Vanessa still lived at home, although thirty-three years of age and working, she couldn’t quite get out of that tiny bedroom with her stuffed zoo strewn about the bed. Her laptop sat close by–perhaps her closest friend. Here she could go anywhere in the world. Her mother was sensing something different about her daughter. She had a glow about her that didn’t come from a bottle, a new brand of make-up or even a boyfriend. Vanessa hadn’t dated in a very long time. Or so her mother thought. It might be time to have a conversation, or snoop out Vanessa’s laptop. She really didn’t want to be accused of being The Spy Who Loved Me, by her only child.
As Vanessa came out of her room one evening she saw her mother deep in thought, standing in the kitchen gazing out the window.
“Everything alright, mom?” said Vanessa as she cocked her head to one side revealing one green eye and one GoldenEye–an odd gene somewhere in her DNA.
Vanessa’s mother turned and smiled at her daughter, hoping that this was the opening she was waiting for.
“Why yes, everything’s fine. I was just thinking how nice it would be if we could have a cup of coffee together. You know, just chat for awhile.”
“Umm, okay. I have to leave in about half an hour,” Vanessa replied.
“A date, dear?” Maybe she was pushing too far too soon, thought Vanessa’s mother as she poured two mugs of steaming French Roast and set the container of Sweet Italian Creme on the table. She watched her daughter sit and warm her hands on the mug, a Christmas present from years ago.
Vanessa bit her lip, did she really want her mother to know about–him? They were as close as any mother and daughter, so maybe it would be a good thing to tell her. Maybe.
“I did meet someone,” Vanessa whispered as she sipped her coffee and watched her mother’s face light up. “I decided that The World is Not Enough . Someone once told me that You Only Live Twice and so I wanted to begin that second life.” Vanessa pulled an envelope from her pocket, it was marked, For Your Eyes Only. She gently fanned herself with it. Toying with her mother’s emotions.
Her anxious mother wanted to grab that envelope, but contained her curiosity as Vanessa slipped from the envelope a piece of stationery from the Casino Royale . She only revealed the signature, followed by, From Russia With Love .
“Ah, a mystery man? Where did you meet him” the the mother quizzed.
“I met him several times at the theater, and more than a few times at a friend’s place. He would only tell me a little about himself–that he was On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, team that it was a Live and Let Die mission. That if he made it home, then he would live to Die Another Day. He told me he was The Man with the Golden Gun, and nothing short of a Thunderball would keep him from meeting me at the Skyfall planetarium.”
“I have to admit, this is all so sudden–and I am distressed about this new relationship.” Vanessa’s mother stirred her coffee and looked at the Goldfinger nail polish on her daughters left hand. Something else caught her eye, a ring turned backwards, hiding something, but what?
“I know what you are thinking, mom. What are his intentions, honorable or not? Take a look at this, and then you tell me,” commented Vanessa as she turned the ring that held her secret.
Vanessa’s mother had a look of astonishment, a look Vanessa had been hoping for. It looked like her plan was working.
“I . . . I don’t know what to say. Is this how I find out you’re engaged? It is an engagement ring, isn’t it? what did he say to you?” Vanessa’s mother was holding her breath, wanting the best for her daughter.
“And does my future son-in-law have a name,” asked Vanessa’s mother.
“Yes. His name is Bond. James Bond. Now, please stop worrying about me. There’s a 007 marathon at the theater, my ride is waiting outside.” Vanessa pushed herself away from the table and ran toward the front door, barely able to keep her glee at fooling her mother. She was hoping her mother would now stop bugging her about being single. It was A View to a Kill as she stepped out the front door. A case of mistaken identity? One could only hope.