A Cliché Christmas(4)
“Well, I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but I signed you up to help me today.”
I glanced up at the smile that could convince a child to give up her last piece of candy and chuckled. God only knows what Nan had in store for us. Sitting up, I swung my legs over the edge of the twin bed and narrowly avoided knocking a stack of books to the ground. It was hard to believe I’d spent my childhood sleeping in this coffin-like space.
I picked up the cookbook on top of the pile closest to me, Best Foods in Brazil.
“Some great recipes in that one.”
I smiled as I flipped through the old, crusty pages that smelled like damp pepper and cloves. That was my Nan. Always trying something new.
“I have some coffee and oatmeal for you on the counter. The senior center needs help preparing for the big day tomorrow. I volunteered us for the shift at nine. Figured you’d want to shower first.”
I stretched my arms, yawning as I stood. “Yes, a shower would be good.”
She patted my messy hair. “It’s so good to have you home.”
As her eyes sparkled with tears, a familiar warmth wove through my ribs and cinched my heart. Home. “I’ve missed you too, Nan.”
She pulled me close for a hug, one full of the soft, squishy comfort I’d never find in LA.
“Ready to open a few dozen cans of cranberry sauce?”
I clasped my hands together. “It’s like my Thanksgiving dream come true.”
She swatted my backside. “Go eat your breakfast before it gets cold, smarty-pants.”
Nan wasn’t kidding.
By the fifteenth can of green beans, I started worrying about carpal tunnel syndrome. The nauseating aroma of soggy vegetables had started to seep into my pores. I shook the stiffness out of my hand and concentrated on breathing through my mouth. Just then, Eddy, wearing her signature navy-blue trench coat, flew through the front door like a bat bolting out of a dark cave. Some things never change.
“Georgia Cole! Get your behind over here, and give me a smooch!”
I laughed and wiped my hands on the towel in front of me. “Hi, Eddy.”
“You should have heard your grandma talking about you all over town these last few weeks. It was startin’ to get on my nerves, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.” She kissed my cheek, surely leaving behind her bright-coral lip mark as a souvenir. “Of course, I’ve never seen her so happy.”
“Well, I’m glad I could make her happy.” Even though I should be planning our snorkeling excursion in Hawaii right about now.
“Wow,” she said, taking me in. “You sure are a pretty thing. Look just like your mama did at that age.”
I managed a smile, though the compliment fell flat more than it flattered.
“Eddy, give the girl some space to breathe. I don’t need you suffocating her on her first day back.”
Eddy ignored Nan and pulled up a stool near the counter where I was working. Apparently, she was sticking around. She plucked a green bean out of the pan and smacked on it loudly.
“So, what do you think of the place? Nan give you a tour yet?”
I looked around the senior center—at least what I could see of it from the kitchen. It was a great little space. Cozy and cheery. A perfect spot to socialize: eat, play games, celebrate, and laugh. I was grateful that Nan had it, along with good friends to fill it with.
I nodded. “It’s very nice.”
“Except for that hideous puke-colored wall over there. Nan insisted on a shade of baby poop.”
Nan flung a dish towel at Eddy. “It’s mustard! And it looks great, I found it in a décor magazine from France.”
“Well, maybe the French like staring at bug guts, but I don’t.”
I laughed. Being with these two felt like old habit.
Their comfortable banter reminded me of—Don’t go there, Georgia.
“What day do you start working with the kids?” Eddy asked.
Confusion plucked me out of reminiscing time. “What kids?”
“The high school kids. They’re already rehearsing, you know. Betty’s been plunking away on that wretched piano, teaching them Christmas carols down at the church. They’re waiting for you.” She swung her dirty boot across her knee, holding it in place with her hand. “Looks like that old theater will finally have a purpose again now that you’re back. I don’t think those doors have been opened in years.”
I shifted my eyes to Nan, who was suddenly very busy mixing a bowl of Stove Top stuffing—and humming. “Nan?”
The humming grew louder.
“You’re butchering that song, Nan,” Eddy said, plugging her ears. “And I don’t even care for music all that much.”
Nan dropped her spoon into the metal bowl with a clang. “There’s a meeting on Saturday to discuss the Christmas pageant. They expect you to be there, Georgia. Everyone’s excited about having the ‘Holiday Goddess’ in town.” She beamed, proud of herself for remembering the quote from the article in USA Today.
“Nan, please don’t call me that. And, like I’ve told you a thousand times before, writing scripts and directing a production are two very different things. I’ll gladly assist in whatever way I can, but I’m sure there’s someone else who—”