Chapter 5
The next morning I again woke to a knocking on the door. I heard mom's chipper voice through the wood. She opened it, "I just wanted to see if you were awake yet."
"I am now," I answered, grumpily.
"Hey now, fuss-budget, you need to get up. Your sister will be here in less than two hours!"
"Joy." I pulled the covered back over my head.
"Great! So get up and come help me make cookies before they get here."
I made a noncommittal noise and waited until she closed the door. It was seven A.M. Mrs. Way-too-happy-in-the-mornings and I would have to have a pow-wow about this waking me up. But I was awake now. I noticed the computer beside me and rolled my finger across the touch pad.
It hummed to life and the email was still on the screen. I tried again.
Dear Natalie,
Matter of fact, it IS nice and warm here. Maybe I could have left the jacket with you. I haven't needed it, and that would guarantee that you would see me when I come back to London. Yeah, we do have another big family thing. Today my sister and her family are coming to town and we have to do the annual "sister shopping trip". Things are crazy here! I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have Kim to keep me sane. What do you have planned for Christmas? Anything exciting? We're just doing the family thing. Church, lunch, board games, dinner and lots of hot apple cider. I gotta run, I'm supposed to be making cookies, but I couldn't leave you hanging. I hope your day is filled with warmth and sun...literally.
Much love,
Adi
P.S. I'll have to think about the color scheme a little more. Where does black fit in? Darkness?
I dressed to go running and headed to the kitchen. Mom quickly put down the phone and whirled around towards me. "I thought you were going to make cookies for me?" she asked.
"I am, but if you want me to eat them, I'm going to need to work them off too."
"I don't see why."
"Cause you want your daughter to be marketable marriage material, don't you?"
"You take all the running time you need dear," mom giggled.
"Thanks," I replied flatly and headed out the door.
A good run always clears my head. And, God knows my head was filled with all sorts of things. I ran for forty-five minutes and then walked the rest of the loop back to the house. I could smell the chocolate chip cookies from the road.
Inside, I grabbed a cookie off dad's plate and hugged him over his shoulders. "Hey pumpkin. You smell ripe."
"I know," I smiled, mom wrinkled her nose but didn't say anything, she would put up with anything as long as it would make me dateable. "I'm gonna hop in the shower. I'll be out to help you in a few."
Back downstairs and I grabbed a coffee cup out of the cabinet. I poured a cup and leaned against the counter. Dad had gone to open the shop a few hours earlier than his holiday hours stated he would. He always did things like that around Christmas. That was dad, always going the extra mile.
"What needs to be made?" I asked.
"I still need to have several batches of oatmeal raisin cookies and a several different types of pies. Just make an extra one; I've got to go out later and drop one at the nursing home."
"Which kind do you want?"
"Surprise me."
"The last time you told her that, I recall a big serving of real mud in the Mississippi mud pie." Coming through the door was Abigail, my big sister.
"And it was dang tasty too!" I contended.
"OOOH," mom squealed and rushed to hug my nephew, James, who was five and living out the fantasy of being a Samurai. He stopped her with a sword, but she brushed it aside and swept him into a hug.
Behind Abigail was her husband Tim, carrying their baby Ashlee, who was only six months old and sound asleep. I sat my cup down and walked over to Abigail. "So you're telling me that you don't think I can be trusted to cook?" I put my hands on my hips and tried to look stern.
"That's right, you need to be out of the kitchen and helping me shop." She smiled. I smiled too and opened my arms. We hugged for a while. I hadn't seen Abigail since Easter of last year and I had missed her more than I thought.
I had never met little Ashlee, so I leaned over and rubbed her little fingers with mine.
"Precious".
"Don't you want one?" Abigail asked.
"Not so much."
"Of Course you do. Children complete you. Besides, I need lots of grandchildren to spoil," mom said.
"You've got two right here," I told her. "How about that cooking. Want me to knock out the cookies now and I'll do the pies later?"
"Sure," mom said, not so secretly pleased to have both daughters in the kitchen with her. "Tim, you know where Abigail's room is. And those presents can go under the tree in the living room."
Mom followed Tim and James out of the kitchen. Abigail looked at me and said, "Some things never change, do they?"
"Nope," I agreed and rolled up my sleeves.
Elbow deep in cookie dough, Abigail looked at me, "What's different with you?"
I tensed; then forced myself to relax, hoping she didn't notice. Mom was out of the kitchen and Abigail and I were rolling and baking cookies. "Nothing's different. Why?"
"You just seem tense. Have you lost weight?"
"Probably, I haven't seen you in almost a year. Things change in a year." I looked at her. She had flour spread across her cheek and up into her hair.
"Yeah, they do." She was quiet for a few minutes as we finished another pan and popped it in the oven. "So who is he?"
"He?" I laughed. "No one. Really."
"You can't tell me there's not some lucky guy that's changing you. I'm your big sister; I know all." She looked at me.
"Then you should know that you have flour all over your face and hair."
Abigail looked at herself in the reflection on the microwave door and brushed at the flour. "I do not." She was trying to sound authoritative. I flicked my fingers at her and dusted her face with flour.
"You do now."
"You little..." At that moment mom walked through the door.
"How's it going girls? It's so nice to have the family back here cooking like old times."
"You mean us slaving away while you play with your grandkids?" I asked.
"Yes." Mom answered and hummed as she got a pack of old fashioned bon-bons out of the fridge.
"Mom, those will spoil his lunch."
Mom ignored Abigail and said, "Abigail, you got a lil' something on your face. You might want to brush that off before you two go shopping." With that, mom was gone again.
Abigail wiped her face on a towel as I put the last pan of cookies in the oven. We had made four dozen and were ready for a break. "You about ready to go?" I asked.
"Yeah, as soon as I wash my face and do a quick change of clothes."
Twenty minutes later we were in my car, heading toward Main Street. Mom wanted us to stop by dad's shop and let him see Abigail. Since she had moved to Tennessee, they don't see her but a few times a year.
I parked in front of the shop and before I shut the car off Abigail was running through the door. I shook my head and followed Abigail inside.
By the time dad and Abigail caught up on the important events, like James' new obsession with the Far East after watching
Mulan
, my stomach was rumbling. The shop was eerily quiet and Danny, dad's employee since I had gone off to school, was eager to run the shop on his own.
Abigail and I insisted that dad go to lunch with us. He agreed, but only if we went to Mrs. Winter's Diner that was only a block away. As we strolled to the diner dad said, "You know, I provide all the meat for this diner."
"We know dad. They gave you your first break as a butcher."
"Yes, but did you know that I still sneak down here a couple of days a week?" Abigail and I looked at him.
"You know mom doesn't like you eating all that greasy spoon stuff."
"Yeah, what would she say?" I asked.
"She wouldn't say a thing, because she doesn't know," Dad assured us. "And let's keep it that way. Speaking of, have you spoken to her today? I tried to call her at home but Tim answered said that he didn't know where she was."
"She's probably out taking James around to show off to the neighbors," Abigail chimed in.
Mrs. Winter herself greeted us at the door with hugs and grandmotherly admonitions of our loss of, or gaining of, in Abigail's case, weight. She led us to a large booth in the corner and sat down with us, waving over her help to take her orders. "Get them a pitcher of sweet tea and some biscuits, will you Flora."
Flora scurried off and was busy filling glasses. I caught her eye and mouthed "Coffee." A few minutes later we had caught up on all the latest Church-yard gossip and were ready to order.
I ate while Abigail and dad talked about the past few months. Mrs. Winter wouldn't hear of us paying so Abigail and I left her the extra package of fresh cookies that we had snuck out of the house, 'In case we got hungry while shopping.'
We walked dad back to work and gave him the cookies we brought. He hugged us both and we got in my car, heading towards Atlanta.
We shopped, dear Lord did we shop. For endless hours I tried on clothes and held bags containing gifts for everyone I could think of. Twice we made a trip back to the car to put the bags in the trunk. We stopped mid-afternoon for a coffee to restore our energy and were finally able to call it a day a bit after 5pm.
We were a few minutes from home when Abigail pulled down the vanity mirror and looked at herself. "Good God, I look rough. Why didn't you tell me? I must have scared everyone we met!"
I smirked but didn't reply. Out of her massive purse she pulled a brush that she ran through her hair. Then she grabbed her lipstick and began to apply it. I turned left into the neighborhood and she dropped the top of her lipstick. She reached under the seat and pulled out the book Kim had bought me in the Feminist bookstore.
I didn't notice.
"What's this?" She asked.
I glanced over and felt myself turn red.
Shit
.
