Page 35 of After 5
“Eleven. I figured you needed to rest after the travel and…all.”
I pushed aside the covers along with last night’s events with Caiyan and lumbered out of bed.
“When is she coming?” I asked. My mom rarely came to the house. I grimaced. I’d missed a few Sunday dinners due to the moon cycles. Eli covered for me, but I’d still get the Catholic guilt speech.
“She said around noon. I’m cleaning the house, and I did the grocery shopping.”
“Thanks. I owe you.”
Gertie shrugged. “You needed to sleep, and I know how particular Cuzin Mary is about…well everything.”
Gertie feared my mother more than carbs. My mom was Mary Poppins on the outside, but she’d give Cinderella’s stepmother a run for her money when it came to a clean house. She’d open the fridge to check our supply of food and click her tongue if the contents were too bare or too unhealthy. We’d also get a tongue click if there was dust on the tables or clothes on the floor.
I tossed my clothes from last night in the hamper. Picked up the shoe I almost bludgeoned Caiyan with, and now wished I had. Returned it to the box. Made my bed, showered, and dressed.
What kind of surprise would my mom bring? Maybe a new pair of boots for fall. She liked fashion. Her taste was a bit straitlaced for me, but I’d roll with a new purse or pair of shoes.
I went downstairs. Gertie was sweeping up the last of the plate remnants.
“Sorry,” I said, staring down at the pile of shattered porcelain.
“Don’t worry about it. Your reasons were justified. Brodie cleaned up most of it last night. I was giving it a second sweep to make sure he didn’t miss any, which he did.” Her snub nose wrinkled into a frown.
“I’ll replace the dishes.”
“I saw a new pattern from the Pioneer Woman I liked.” Gertie smiled at me.
I was thankful she didn’t badger me with questions about Caiyan. I didn’t want to talk about him this morning. I helped Gertie dispose of the broken pieces of my life and finished tidying up the den.
At precisely twelve o’clock, there was a tap, tapping on the front door, and my mom breezed in. Chanel No. 5 and self-confidence floated around her like the dust cloud that surrounds Pigpen in the Peanuts comic strip.
I stopped lint rolling the cat hair off the back of the sofa and hid the roller behind a throw pillow.
“Hi, Mom.” I moved toward her, but she whisked by me, sending me an air kiss as she passed. Her hands were laden with a covered dish.
We resembled each other with the full bust line and slim hips. Her blond hair was cut in a short bob, her Kate Spade bag dangled from the crook of her elbow, and she wore a sensible lipstick.
“Hello, girls,” she said as she sat the dish and her purse on the kitchen table.
I followed her to the breakfast nook to give her a hug.
“Howdy, Cuzin Mary.” Gertie put aside the broom and came to inspect the contents of the dish.
“It’s cousin, not cuzin, Gertie. Now that you’re a librarian you need to watch your English p’s and q’s.” Mom hugged Gertie. She lectured and embraced simultaneously. The woman had talent.
I grinned at the way my mom mimicked Gertie’s pronunciation.
Gertie gave me an eyeroll. “Yes, Cousin Mary.”
My mom smiled her approval. “Gertie, I see you were sweeping. So nice to keep a clean house. Don’t you agree, Jennifer?”
“Is this our surprise?” I asked. Avoiding her sarcasm, I sneaked a peak under the foil. “It’s a casserole.” I said, my bottom lip jutting out in a teenage pout at her. I have an animosity for casseroles. My family demanded casseroles at all our functions, and I despised them.
“It’s not for you.”
“It’s not our surprise?” Gertie asked.
“Heavens no, Jennifer hates casseroles.”
