One More for Christmas(100)

Knowing what a perfectionist her daughter was, Ella could have pointed out that the end result probably would turn out to be important, but she didn’t. It turned out Tab had definitely inherited some of her grandmother’s characteristics.

All that mattered was that they were all doing this together. Laughing. Exchanging anecdotes, creating memories. Remember that Christmas in Scotland when we baked with Nanna?

Outside the temperature had dropped and it was snowing. The mountains were no longer visible through the window, obscured by swirling flakes of white.

But there was no chance of her active, inquisitive daughter being bored.

Here in the warm, cinnamon-scented fug of the kitchen, there was plenty to entertain and distract.

It was a scene straight out of one of Ella’s “family fantasies,” as Samantha called them. Still it felt strange. Her world felt bigger than it had a few weeks ago. It had been the three of them, and Samantha. Now the walls had expanded to include her mother. The long and frank discussion they’d had the night before had resulted in a sense of connection she’d never felt before. She no longer felt watchful and tense. She was no longer braced for her mother to say the wrong thing, but she knew that if that moment came, then they’d handle it. They’d talked until the early hours, holding nothing back. Not parent and child, but two women. Adults. And Ella had discovered that understanding a person, knowing them and the path they’d walked, changed everything.

Mary was whisking egg whites for a more complex recipe, while supervising the others. “You’re doing fine there. Might want to add a spoonful more flour to compensate for what’s on the table.” Like a conductor bringing together a large orchestra, she coordinated tasks. She was the king of the kitchen, and Gayle obviously thought so, too.

“Don’t devalue your own skills, Mary. You have a special gift. And we’re going to use that. As soon as Samantha is here, we’re going to talk to her about it. Where is she?” Gayle sliced butter into the mixture. “It’s unlike her to sleep this late. Do you think we should check? I’m a little concerned about her.” She glanced at Ella, the only other person in the room who knew there might be a reason to be concerned.

“No.” Ella knew for a fact that her sister wasn’t in her room, and she knew that because she’d looked in on her in the night. The bed had been undisturbed, and Ella had paused for a moment and then rumpled it, just in case their mother happened to decide on a heart-to-heart in the middle of the night.

“She’s been working hard.” She covered up and deflected, the way her sister always had for her, and she realized that her relationship with her mother wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Samantha had always protected her and fought her battles, but now she was the one protecting Samantha. And she was going to be fighting her own battles from now on.

She had a feeling that her new sense of strength would have pleased her mother.

When Samantha had stumbled from the room the night before, Ella had been worried about her. She’d been torn between her mother and her sister. She’d chosen her mother, but doing so had made her feel as if she was letting her sister down, and she’d felt nothing but relief when the text had arrived from Samantha, telling her that she was working.

She’d felt instinctively that if Samantha was with Brodie, then nothing bad could happen. From what she’d seen, he seemed like a man who could handle things, and she was hoping that skill would extend to her sister.

“I’m sure she’s tired and sleeping late. She’s a hard worker, your Samantha. She and Brodie were out late last night, planning starlight walks.” Mary fetched a bag of sugar from the cupboard. “I don’t see the appeal myself, but they both seemed to think it would be a winner.”

Ella kept her expression neutral. Starlight walks?

In other words, Samantha had been in a hurry to leave the lodge. She’d needed fresh air and space, something her sister always did when she was stressed.

How she’d linked up with Brodie, Ella didn’t know.

Gayle pushed the bowl closer to Tab. “Your turn. Now you need to rub it all together.”

Undaunted, Tab dived in with glee. Moments later she was elbow deep in flour and smiles.

While they were occupied, Ella sent a quick text to her sister.

Where are you?? And why didn’t you sleep in your bed last night? Should I be worried?
She’d give her sister half an hour to respond, and then she was going to go and find her.

In the meantime she was going to steer the conversation away from Samantha.

“Your mother—” she looked up “—my grandmother—she was a good cook?”

“Some people have a knack for it. She was one of those. Like Mary.” She smiled at Brodie’s mother. “Did you always cook?”

Mary had whisked egg whites into soft peaks. “From a child, side by side with my mother. There’s no better place to spend your time than a well-equipped kitchen.”

Gayle washed flour from her hands. “I admire you, Mary, but you’re not going to find me agreeing with that one. I can think of plenty of rooms where I’d rather be than the kitchen.”

“What was she like?” Ella slid her phone back into her pocket. “Your mother.”

“Now I think about it, she was very like you. Creative. Warm. She had a way of making people feel better when she spoke to them.”