Page 3 of The Blessings of Christmas
“Sorry. I’m just teasing.” He didn’t look sorry at all.
Her heart was racing. Must be the heat. “I’ll be right back.”
Escaping to the stairs, Sarah led the boys up to the second-floor apartment over the shop. Her parents had lived up here from the very beginning. Sarah remembered her dad getting up in the dark to go down and set the bread dough to rise. Jamie had taken on the role after her dad passed away. Their own house wasn’t far away.
Sarah knocked on the door before cracking it open. “Mom? It’s me. Sarah and the boys.”
The TV was off. The living room, silent. The latest issues ofThe National Enquirerwere neatly arranged on the coffee table. Her mother liked to stay current on her Hollywood news. Sarah sniffed. Usually Mom would be eating an early dinner. But no stew or a pork chop aroma hung in the air. She poked her head into the small kitchen. Nothing.
Sarah had planned to have grab bars installed in the bathroom. Her mother’s Christmas present would be a safety system with a button to wear. One touch and EMS would come screeching to her aid.
Cold fear skittered down her spine. “Boys, sit on the sofa. Not a peep out of you.” Eyes wide, they sat down.
“Mom?” As she walked down the long hall toward the bedrooms, a sweet smell drifted from the bathroom. Soap or perfume? Her mother was singing.
“Mom, are you in there?” She knocked on the door.
The singing stopped. Slowly the door cracked open. “Did you need me, sweetheart?”
Sarah stared. Green goop covered her mother’s face.
The door closed. “Just give me a second. I’ll be right out,” her mother said above the sound of splashing water.
A face mask? Her mother had never shown interest in that kind of thing. Maybelline lipstick once a week and that was for church. Walking briskly back to the living room, Sarah clicked on the TV and foundSesame Street.
“That’s for kids,” Nathan said with contempt, reaching for the remote.
“But I like the Count!” Justin whined. “Leave it, Mom. Please?”
Was there ever an end to this? “The two of you sit there and watch Big Bird. Period.” She meant business and they heard it. Slumping onto the sofa, Sarah enjoyed the silliness of the show. Laughing together with her boys felt good. After fifteen minutes or so, her mother appeared.
“What a surprise.” Mom’s salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back with a pink headband Sarah had never seen before.
“Don’t you look nice.” Jumping up, Sarah came closer. Was her mother wearing eye liner and mascara? And that wasn’t all. “Is that a new top, Mom?”
“Why, yes. Do you like it?” Mom fingered the white beaded snowflakes decorating the red knit sweater. “I got it at the Michigan City outlet.”
“Have you lost weight?” Sarah couldn’t help the faint note of jealousy in her voice.
“Maybe just a tad.” Mom patted her hips in the snug beige pants. “How did the babysitting go today?”
“We call it playschool. Fine. Not that I’d want to do it every day.” That was an understatement. She’d lose her mind, wiping noses and helping with puzzles for all those children.
Sarah’s mother had not been in favor of the co-op. She’d been Sarah’s main babysitter since the boys were born. But she was getting older. Now was time for her mother to relax––watch soap operas or read romance novels. “What was that stuff on your face?”
“An avocado mask.” Mom ran a veined hand over her cheeks. “Supposed to help the wrinkles. Mine are terrible. What do you think?”
Sarah leaned closer. “You’ve always had beautiful skin.”
“Has Ryan started on the Christmas cookies?” her mother asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject.
“Maybe tomorrow.” Her mother had baked the Christmas cookies as long as Sarah could remember. The buttery rich thimbles, layered mint chocolate brownies, tangy lemon bars, spritz and the sand tarts – those were all her mother's making. The cookies took time and delicate shaping. Ryan had large capable hands, suitable for punching down bread dough and wrestling with Harleys. “I hope this works out.”
Pink lips pursed, Mom sank into the barcalounger that had been her father's favorite chair. “Ryan will be a big help. You can teach him.”
“Right.” Sarah hated to admit that she missed talking to the customers. Baking cookies with Ryan in the back room? That kitchen could feel mighty small. She plopped down on the sofa.
“Mom! You’re squishing me.” With a gentle shove, Justin moved over. Both boys were listening to this conversation with great interest.
