Page 21 of Savoring Christmas
“Ballet was my life,” Reese said. “But it took a part of my soul, not to mention how it’s damaged my health. I have to admit, it’s really hard for me not to think about how many calories are in here.”
“You’re here,” Thelma said. “Baby steps, right?”
Mia swallowed a lump in her throat.
“Okay, taste mine now,” Kris said, sounding like an excited child.
Mia hid a smile at the sight of Kris’s dish. His noodles were charmingly uneven—some thick as pappardelle, others thin as angel hair. As for his sauce? Mia had watched him measure everything with the precision of a man following instructions to the letter, but he’d gotten carried away with the wine, which had made it too thin. Still, it tasted wonderful.
Thelma twirled the mismatched noodles around her fork. “Your Maria’s going to think you hired a chef from Tuscany.”
Kris beamed, his cheeks pink with obvious pride. “I know. Too much wine. I kept adding it because it smelled so good and how could any dish have too much wine?” His earnestness was so endearing that everyone started laughing.
“Maybe a lighter pour next time,” Mia said. “But it’s still very good.”
Abby went next. Her version made Kris close his eyes and sigh. Her sauce was bright and bold, heavy on the lemon zest, with the perfect amount of wine and butter.
“This is incredible,” Kris said. “Your kids will love it.”
“It’s pretty much perfect,” Mia said.
“Luke’s going to be very impressed,” Logan said.
The comment made Abby’s eyes well up. “Oh, guys, that makes me feel good. There are still so many moments I’m unsure about how to do this mom thing. I can’t tell you how many evenings I approach dinner with a pit in my stomach.”
“Well, you’re doing quite fine, if you ask me,” Kris said. “Those kids of yours seem to be thriving.”
"I hope so. There are days when I go to bed thinking I might not have done one thing right." The words came out in a rush, and Abby tugged at her earring as tears welled up, threatening to spill over.
“Dear girl, all mothers think that,” Thelma said. “I know I certainly did. But when you get to be my age and your kids are grown, you’ll see you didn’t harm them after all. No child has the perfect upbringing.”
Logan nodded, sending his sister-in-law an affectionate smile. “What you’ve done with those kids is nothing short of a miracle. You love them and they know it. You gave up your whole life when you took them on.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” Reese said. “Both Lily and Sophie take classes at my studio and they’re both such wonderful children. Abby, they talk about you as if you walk on water, by the way.”
Abby clutched the collar of her sweater. “They do?”
“See there,” Thelma said. “Proof that you’re doing just fine.”
“I may have given up my whole life, but they gave me a new, much richer, sweeter one,” Abby said. “Which is why I want to be a better cook.”
“You’re doing well,” Mia said. “As cheesy as it sounds, food made with love will nourish heartsandstomachs.”
They continued tasting one another’s dishes as they chatted. When Harold tried Logan’s surprisingly perfect al dente noodles swimming in a buttery, garlicky pool, he nodded approvingly. “Delicious. That pasta’s got real bite to it.”
Logan sat up straighter, as if he’d just received a James Beard nomination. “Do you think?”
“It’s marvelous,” Thelma said, helping herself to another bite. “I love all the garlic.”
“I might have gotten carried away,” Logan said, sounding sheepish. “But my mom always says you can’t have too much butter or garlic.”
“Grace is a wise woman,” Kris said. “About more than just food.”
“We all think so,” Abby said. “When I think over the last few years—I could not have done it without Grace or Walter. I never understood what it meant to be part of a village until I became a Hayes family member.”
“You know, Abby, you have me thinking about my wife,” Harold said. “When we were young with small children, I was busy with work and trying to keep up with the bills and the kids and all that. I didn’t tell her enough how much it meant to me to open a drawer and see my socks all clean and lined up or the scent of dinner cooking when I came home from a long day. She never complained or asked for much of anything, other than that we love her, which we did. I hope she knows how much she gave to us.”
“She does, I’m sure,” Thelma said. “My husband didn’t always say it, but I knew he appreciated all the ways I tried to make his life better. Just as he did for me, taking the financial burden of our family so I could stay home with our kids. Helooked out for me and I looked out for him. That’s how happy marriages are, I suppose.”
