Mr Jakobs
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Best of Friends 16 - Mother's Approval
🕑 Added 2025-06-21 12:23:08 +0000 UTCThe coffee shop sat nestled between two boutique galleries, its windows spotless, its name etched in gold serif above a slate-gray awning. Thorne & Vine. The kind of place with mismatched antique chairs that cost more than Rachel’s tuition deposit, where tasteless music floated softly through invisible ceiling speakers and the baristas wore linen aprons like stage costumes.
Mary was already seated by the window when Rachel arrived, and she sat like she owned the place.
Back straight, ankles crossed, a beige coat draped neatly over the back of her velvet chair. Her blonde hair was swept into a soft chignon that accentuated her jawline, and her matte, berry red lipstick stuck perfectly to her full lips. A cashmere sweater hugged her shoulders, and she wore slacks tailored to the ankle with a sharp crease so clean it could cut glass.
Rachel swallowed the urge to smooth her hair as her mother's gaze fell upon her.
“You’re late by five minutes,” Mary said, folding the menu and handing it off to the waitress with a polite, razor-thin smile.
“I took the train,” Rachel replied as she slid into the seat across from her.
Mary lifted one brow. “And wearing a denim jacket for Saturday coffee?”
Rachel didn’t bother answering.
Their coffees arrived before the silence got uncomfortable. A cortado for Mary, no sugar. A flat white for Rachel, which she stirred to keep her hands busy.
“So,” Mary began, plucking the tiny spoon from her saucer and setting it aside. “I hear your studies are going well.”
“They are.”
Rachel didn’t offer more. Her mother’s voice had that familiar tightness to it—the kind that made it clear each word was deliberate, if not practiced. Like much else in her life, Mary's conversation strived towards a particular intent.
“You know,” Mary said, glancing briefly out the window, “While I celebrate your academic achievements. I'm still trying to understand why you didn’t go into law. You have the mind for it. It’s respectable. Secure. It would certainly pay off in dividends later in life.”
“You know I’m not interested in law.”
“But you are interested in humanitarian work. Law isn't much different."
"Law sucks your soul before you have a chance to make any kind of real change," Rachel countered. Mary smiled softly.
"Your desire to make an impact is truly admirable. But humanitarian work is hard darling, and it doesn’t pay.”
“Mom…”
“I’m just saying,” Mary raised her hand like she was absolving herself of sin. “It doesn’t hurt to think about the future. You won't want to be working the streets when you’re fifty, believe me. Especially once the kids start coming.”
Rachel blinked. “Who says I want kids?"
Mary's lips stretched into a humored smile. "Darling, you want kids," she said certainly, "a good career will help you get there."
Rachel rolled her eyes. "You’ve been a stay-at-home wife your whole life, I'm not sure you understand.”
“Excuse me!” Mary slapped Rachel’s hand lightly. Playful, but precise. “That is a very hard job, I’ll have you know.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t. But I want something else. A career. Something fulfilling beyond raising a family. It’s going to be different from you, Mom.”
“Of course it will be. But when the children do come, how will you raise them on a pauper's salary?” Mary tilted her head, the movement delicate but loaded. Like she was speaking to a child who hadn’t yet grasped how the world worked. Rachel hated that look. It made her feel like she was sixteen again.
“We’ll figure it out.” She said softly.
Mary's cup froze in front of her lips. “We?”
“Yes. We.” Rachel didn’t flinch, but she could feel the edge creeping into her voice.
The waitress arrived with water. Mary took a sip from her tiny glass as if it were vintage wine, then placed it down softly, perfectly centered on its coaster.
“I take it then that things with you and Noah are still going well then?”
“They are.”
There was a pause. Just long enough for Rachel to feel her mother's disapproval.
“And how, pray tell, did he manage to get into Godfrey?”
Rachel’s throat tightened.
“He got in through a scholarship,” she said. “He’s one of the brightest students from Herferd.”
“I’m sure.” Mary sighed through her nose and nodded. “Still, I thought you two might’ve ended your high school romance by now.”
“What does that mean?”
Mary looked at her with practiced pity. “Rachel… my darling. My love. Noah is not good for you long-term. He doesn’t come from a respectable family. And he certainly doesn’t have the means to provide for a future.”
Rachel stiffened. “He’s going into tech. He’ll make money.”
“But will it be enough? A six-figure salary doesn't go far these days, dear. Especially if you decide to stay home…”
“I’m not staying home,” Rachel said, firmer now.
Mary arched a brow. “Fine. You don’t stay home. Even so, two meager salaries won't be enough to start a family comfortably. You will struggle, you will suffer. You have to think about these things.”
“No, I don’t. You’re making it harder than it needs to be.”
Mary leaned forward just slightly. “Yes. You do. Especially since you decided to pursue your passion instead of a lucrative career. Like it or not, your husband will need to provide for you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes so hard her skull ached. “Oh my God, Mom, really?”
“Listen to me,” Mary said, reaching across the table for Rachel’s hand.
Rachel withdrew it.
Mary pulled back, pressing her lips together. There was a flicker of something under the surface. Hurt, maybe, but it disappeared so fast Rachel wasn’t sure she’d seen it.
The waitress returned promptly. "Is everything to your liking Mrs. Wicker?"
“Very much so, thank you,” Mary said, then turned back with unblinking calm. Rachel raised an eyebrow.
"They know you here?" Rachel asked.
"Of course darling, your father is an investor."
"Why am I not surprised..."
Mary grinned in amusement. “Listen, I’m not saying marry for money. Love matters, certainly. But with Noah, the issue isn't just about money.”
Rachel clenched her jaw.
“You live in a different world than Noah does, sweetheart. You always have. And Godfrey has many suitors who would be a better fit for you.”
It took everything Rachel had not to leave the table. “Let’s drop it.” She said coldly.
Mary sighed, sitting back and observing Rachel with calculated eyes.
“You’re glowing, you know,” Mary said, sipping her cortado. “Something’s changed.”
Rachel blinked. “What?”
“You’re different. Radiant. Sexed, maybe.” She tilted her head. “Is that it?”
Rachel nearly choked on her coffee. “What does that even mean?”
“Come now, Rachel. Women know these things. We can sense them. There’s a… flush to you. A quiet confidence. I’d say it was love, but,” she smiled faintly, “I think it’s something else.”
Rachel felt her cheeks flush, and that annoyed her more than anything. She wasn’t blushing for her mother. She didn’t get flustered. Couldn't get flustered. Not anymore.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said dismissively.
But Mary saw it.
She was too clever not to.
Rachel thought of Noah. Of the party. Of the group of men chasing her. Of Mike’s hands on her hips and Noah’s lingering eyes, helpless and burning. She felt the echo of the many nights she had shared with Mike. The feeling of fullness between her legs. The desire she felt to be taken. The way she'd whispered Noah’s name even as she came on someone else’s cock.
"You are quite beautiful," Mary said gently. Rachel smiled tightly.
"Thanks…"
Mary crossed her arms. “You do love him though, don't you?”
“I do.”
“That’s fine. Young love is beautiful. Enjoy it while it lasts. But beauty isn’t always sustainable.”
Rachel looked down into her coffee. The milk foam had started to collapse.
“He’s good to me,” she said, almost to herself.
Mary gave a patient nod. “Then keep him, if that’s what you want. But don’t confuse that for compatibility.”
Rachel looked up.
Mary wasn’t being cruel. She was certain. That made it worse.
“I’m not you,” Rachel said finally.
Mary smiled faintly. “No. You’re not.”
Then Mary lifted her cup and finished the last sip.
“I suppose it doesn’t matter what I say, does it?”
“No,” Rachel replied, matching her calm. “It doesn’t.”
“Well then.” Mary adjusted in her chair and crossed her legs. “I hope you prove me wrong.”
“I plan to," Rachel said.
Mary leaned in. “Just don’t mistake rebellion for identity.”
"Noted…" Rachel replied dully
Mary lingered in the silence for a moment too long. She slid her cup out of the way gently.
Rachel watched her mother’s perfectly manicured fingers toy with the handle. The ring on her right hand, a thin platinum band inset with diamonds, caught the light and gleamed with casual opulence.
Her father always had a taste for the overly lavish.
Mary pursed her lips. “Jack’s mother told me you two met.”
Rachel froze.
The name hit like a hot knife. Her breath caught in her chest before she could respond. She managed to keep her face still, but her spine straightened, her fingers curling around the base of her coffee cup like it might anchor her to the moment.
“You know Jack’s mother?” Rachel asked, voice neutral.
“Of course I know Jack’s mother,” Mary replied, her tone breezy but deliberate. “Your father golfs with his father. Every other Sunday at the country club. You know the routine.”
Rachel wished she didn't. She’d stopped attending those Sunday afternoons in high school.
“How did she know we met?” Rachel asked slowly.
Mary didn’t look up from the foam at the bottom of her cortado. “Because Jack was talking about you.”
Rachel’s chest tightened. Her heart punched upward against her ribs. Hard enough that it almost made her dizzy. She looked down at her untouched water, trying not to let it show.
“He did?” She asked softly.
Mary finally looked up. There was something too casual about the way she smiled. Like she already knew the weight her words carried.
“He did. Apparently, he was very excited to see you. Jack is a very intelligent boy, you know. A good head on his shoulders, very business-minded, and handsome as well. You should get to know him better.”
Rachel blinked. The night Jack held her close flashed in her mind. Her mother's words echoed with bitter irony.
“I’m with Noah,” she said.
Mary didn’t miss a beat. She nodded graciously, her voice soft and saccharine.
“Of course, dear. I didn’t mean anything untoward. But who said you can’t make new friends?”
Rachel crossed her arms, leaned back, and took a small breath. The motion felt juvenile, but satisfying. A quiet rebellion reminiscent of her childhood.
Mary smiled again, this one more knowing than kind.
Rachel shook her head, not at her mother, but at the sheer absurdity of the moment. Her mother was pushing Jack without knowing how deeply he had already pressed himself into Rachel’s life. How his lips had pressed against his, how his hands had explored her body…
How his fingers were only moments away from penetrating her.
How Noah had seen it happen.
Rachel tried to imagine it the way her mother clearly had. Jack coming home from work, tie loosened, smiling as their kids tore through a backyard bordered by trimmed hedges and solar-powered lanterns. Dinners with imported wine and monogrammed napkins. Vacations planned six months in advance. A husband who provided.
It wasn’t a nightmare, not really. It was a happy life. A safe one. But it didn’t stir anything inside her. Not the way Noah did. It felt empty next to their connection.
“I’ll think about it,” Rachel said, cautiously.
Mary took it as a victory. “Do. It’ll be good for you to expand your horizons.”
“So you’re giving me permission to explore things?” A mischievous smile tugged at Rachel's lips.
“Exactly! Explore yourself,” Mary gestured lightly, like she was talking about visiting museums. “Your father sheltered you so much. I feel bad about it.”
Rachel tilted her head, her smile sharpening. “Don’t worry, I will. It’s not like he can shelter me now.”
Mary cleared her throat.
Rachel recognized the sound.
“Oh God,” she muttered. “What?”
“Your father was curious how you were getting on.”
Rachel’s blood cooled.
Mary continued, tone featherlight. “He’s decided to visit.”
The world shifted slightly beneath Rachel’s chair.
Her voice dropped. “Here?”
Mary nodded. “He wants to see the campus. Take you to dinner. He’s been terribly busy, but he’s making time.”
“Do you think you could try to make him busier?”
Mary let out a humored laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, darling.”
Rachel gave her a tight smile. “I’m not. I’m thrilled, actually.”
Mary glanced at her empty cup. “Just be patient with him. You know how he's… set in his ways.”
Rachel stared at the window, her pulse kicking up again.
“He’d very much like to meet your new partner,” Mary added, a distinct note of temperance in her voice.
Rachel turned her gaze sharply. “He wants to meet Noah?”
“Yes. Noah. After all, you two are in love.”
Of course.
Rachel pushed a hand through her hair, suddenly too warm despite the air-conditioned chill. Her father had always been the final word. A man who didn’t speak much, but when he did, his words were carved in stone. He hadn’t said much about her coming to Godfrey. Just signed the checks, and reminded her to “be smart.” Rachel preferred it that way.
Now he wanted to visit. He wanted to meet Noah. She already knew the undertone of what that meant.
“He’s going to hate him,” Rachel muttered.
Mary gave a half-shrug. “He hasn’t met him yet, you never know.”
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm not my dear, I assure you," Mary replied gently.
Rachel didn’t say anything.
“I think he’s more concerned about what direction your life is taking,” Mary continued. “The relationship is part of that. But it’s not everything.”
“I’m not bringing Noah to dinner just so Dad can interrogate him.”
“No one’s asking for an interrogation, darling. It’s a meeting. You know how he is, very old-fashioned. But he loves you. He only wants what’s best.”
Rachel snorted softly. “According to him.”
“According to both of us,” Mary said calmly.
Rachel met her eyes. She wanted to say something. Wanted to tell her mother everything she didn’t understand. About what love actually was. About a life truly filled with meaning. About a life not defined by her father's will.
But the words stuck in her throat.
Mary leaned forward just slightly. “It’ll be fine. He just wants to see that you’re stable. That you’ve made good choices.”
Stable. A word that Rachel wasn't sure she understood fully anymore.
Rachel thought of Noah again. Of the quiet, careful way he looked at her. She thought of his kindness, how nervous he would become, how uncertain he still was about life. For all his brilliance and goodness, she already knew what her father would think.
She could see what her father would see. Rough edges, lack of polish. He’d see Noah’s thrift-store jackets and fidgeting hands and cast him down like he was an obstacle in the way of his daughter's success.
But he wouldn’t see what Rachel saw. Wouldn’t know what it meant to be with someone who let her choose. Who didn’t try to shape her into something convenient or respectable. Who saw her for her, and was willing to walk with her every step of the way. That kind of love was rare, and it was foreign to her parents.
Rachel sat straighter, a clarity coming over her like a slow tide.
“When is he coming?”
“At the end of the month. He’ll stay at the club, and I will ensure he has other tasks at hand so he's not hounding you. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.”
Mary looked surprised. “No?”
Rachel smiled faintly. “No.”
“Well. That’s good.”
Their drinks were finished, their chairs now slightly askew from tension and shifting bodies. The coffee shop had gotten louder around them. Soft laughter, clinking plates, a crescendo of jazz piano from overhead.
Mary glanced at her phone, tapping it delicately with her nail. "Ah, how time flies."
She stood. Rachel did also.
Mary reached for her coat, slipping into it with practiced ease. “You’re strong, Rachel,” she said as she buttoned the top clasp. “I don’t always agree with your choices, but I know you’ll land on your feet. You always do.”
Rachel nodded. “I know. Thanks, mother.”
They stood and faced each other, two versions of the same woman. One carved from steel, the other still shaping her edges.
Mary leaned forward and kissed her daughter's cheek. "Call me when he arrives. And try not to wear denim when you see your father. He's not as relaxed as I am.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Noted.”
Mary squeezed Rachel's shoulders gently. "It was good seeing you, dear."
She turned and walked toward the exit, heels clicking in perfect tempo.
Rachel watched her go, then sank back into her seat.
She stared out the cafe window, trying to picture what it would look like to see Noah at that fateful dinner. What it would feel like to stand beside him when her father finally looked him in the eyes.
She smiled.
Whatever he said, whatever came next, they would face it together.
As they always had.
Comments
Bryce Johnson
Well her mom could be a bit ignorant and out of touch from reality if she’s used to having lots of money. And could depend on where they live, some states like California or NY are way more expensive to live in
TommyTheDude
"a six-figure salary doesn't go far these days" what? making $100K a year puts you in the top 15% of income earners in america lol
northdrop
I love these world building chapters:) Rachel loves Noah because he because of everything he’s not, rather than for what he IS. He lets her choose who she wants to be, what she wants to do. He supports her decisions and encourages her passions. After the upbringing she’s had, he is exactly what she needs to feed the soul that would have been sucked by a law firm. In excited to see how these new politics will play into the story; the circles are growing tighter ;)
