Susan's Book Garden

Just around the corner

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 13 Mar 2008 22:12:00 +0000

What's just around the corner? Spring! This week we've finally gotten some warm days, and although the snow isn't entirely gone, it' s been banished from our yard, at least.

The buds on the pussywillow are starting to show just a hint of gray. That, and the fact that the dog comes in with mud up to his elbows tells me we're thawing out! And driving by a local lake this morning, I saw a pair of bluebirds sitting on a nesting box. The robins are back and staking out territory, and I heard a Great Horned Owl the other night.

No sign of any crocus or other bulbs peeking through the still-frozen ground. I keep telling myself that it's still early, but I'm ready for Spring!

Romance is in the Air

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 12 Mar 2008 15:18:00 +0000

Here's a bit more from Romance is in the Air~

Whispers in the Wind by Sherry Jones

Grace Belden looked her sister’s desperate face before her gaze dropped to Claire’s nine-month’s worth of swollen belly.

“I need a physical presence at that location, Grace. I wouldn’t ask but…” Claire’s voice trailed off, but Grace knew the words she’d left unspoken as well as the wording in the vendor contract.

“Only for you, Claire, because you are my baby sister who looks like she’s ready to pop.”

Grace gave a sigh over her designer outfit she’d not had time to change, however, she turned to reload the cart with the afternoon’s required supplies. “And because after today my life will never be the same.”

“Oh, pray tell me the reason, Older Sister O’ Mine.” Claire settled deeper into her chair to prop her feet up on a stool.

“Your sarcasm pains me, but I’ll tell you anyway. I whispered my heart’s desire into the wind, which, according to Madame Zelda, means that my wish will come true. She’s a nice lady. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Very poetic. I hope you wished for a date.”

“A romantic stranger would have to drop from the heavens. There is no suitable date material in Maydale, Texas. That means for today, you are my only date. On that note, I’m off feed the world.”

She guided the snack cart from the vendor’s supply area to the main circuit of the park. Lord, it had been years since she’d done this job. Her parents had owned the concession contract then. She lifted her face to the afternoon sun and breathed deeply, though her tired feet protested the long walk.

I’m waiting for you, Grace.

“What?”

Irritation knitted her brows into a frown. She’d go put in a vacation request Monday morning. A person who heard voices in the wind clearly needed a break.

The Red Hat by Robin Bayne

"Can you believe this woman?”
The voice came from behind her. Meg stiffened in her cinema seat. The scents of popcorn and tacos floated around the theater as the previews began, and she relaxed.
“What is with that hat?”
The voice came again, slightly louder this time. Someone was upset with her hat! It wasn’t that tall. What was his problem? She shifted lower in the seat, but that hurt her lower back. Theme music flowed from the speakers as she felt her friend’s gaze on her.

“Don’t worry about him. Just watch the movie. Think about that appointment you have tomorrow with your first sale customers.” Tina patted Meg’s arm then ripped open a box of Sno-Caps. Meg nodded and tried to ignore the man behind her, thinking all the time that his voice sounded slightly familiar.

* * * *

Joe Dalton entered the model home slash sales office the next morning, prepared for a meeting with the builder about materials he needed for cabinetry on lots ten and eleven. The smell of hot coffee greeted him as he headed directly for the house’s modern kitchen. As he passed the library off the main hall, he peered in, but didn’t see the real estate agent he usually chatted with. Instead, on the oak credenza behind the sales desk, sat a red felt hat with a small feather tucked in its trim.
The red hat he’d seen at the movies last night.
Now, he really needed that coffee.

Excerpt: Will You Be My Valentine?

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 18:05:00 +0000

Here is an excerpt from my story, found in By Grace Publishing's Romance is in the Air.

The chime that indicated someone was at the delivery door sounded from the back of the store.
“Wait one minute, Jack. I have a great idea, but I have to take this delivery first.”
Beth returned in a few minutes with a selection of chocolate flowers.
“How about these? They’re my favorites. They’re pretty, women love chocolate, and they won’t be hurt by the cold.”
“They’re perfect. And I know she’ll like them,” he said, eyes twinkling.

(c) 2008 by Susan Atwood

Is February really gone?

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 17:50:00 +0000

It's March! I can't believe it! I thought February would never end - and not just because we had an extra day this year. The cold and snow and cold and wind and more cold and ice and... you get the picture.

There is an upside to the cold. An article on the front page of today's paper says pests like the Japanese beetle won't have survived. The funny thing is, I just had a dream about beetles on some pink roses. Odd, because the only rose I have is a red climber, growing on a trellis on the side of the house.

Today is beautiful-- a real herald of the warmer weather to come. The breeze is from the south and I'm itching to work in the garden. Unfortunately, the ground is frozen solid. I tried to pull some mulch away from the creeping lemon thyme that someday will grow between the pavers in the Book Garden, but it is just a frozen blob and I'm afraid I'll damage the plants underneath.

Sigh. Patience, I know. But it's really hard to be patient on a lovely day like today.

Blurbs!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Sat, 01 Mar 2008 03:16:00 +0000

Here are the blurbs for the three stories in By Grace Publishing's release Romance is in the Air!

Whispers in the Wind by Sherry Jones

Overworked Grace Belden hears whispers in the wind. Could Braden Colter be her voice of destiny?

Will You Be My Valentine? by Susan Atwood

Beth is perfectly content with her plans for Valentine’s Day---a date with an old romantic movie and a hot pizza. Why does she feel a stab of jealousy while helping her new neighbor choose a Valentine’s gift for the woman he is planning to ask for a date?

The Red Hat by Robin Bayne

Joe can’t believe the annoying woman from the theater was the new sales rep—could he learn to work with both her and that hat?

The anthology is available now at www.bygracepublishing.com

Romance is in the Air

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 27 Feb 2008 18:23:00 +0000

Romance is in the air, and I can prove it!

Just take a look at the fabulous cover for By Grace's February anthology!

Coming soon!

www.bygracepublishing.com

...coming soon from By Grace

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 20 Feb 2008 18:33:00 +0000

And speaking of By Grace Publishing, the February release is Romance Is In the Air. This anthology features three short stories, including my contribution "Will You Be My Valentine."

I am honored to be included in the same release as By Grace authors Shara Jones and Robin Bayne.

The anthology will be available on February 29th!

www.bygracepublishing.com

...And the Winner Is...

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 15:25:00 +0000

Denise Patrick!

Adopting Alyssa is the 2007 CAPA winner for Best Inspirational Romance!

Congratulations, Denise.

Don't miss Kelly and Jason's heartwarming story from By Grace Publishing.
And Strikes Don't Matter, Denise's January release from By Grace, features Kelly's best friend, Gina.
www.bygracepublishing.com

A Valentine Surprise

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Fri, 15 Feb 2008 15:18:00 +0000

Valentine's Day is always fun... but even more so when that special someone sends you a Valentine. My daughter was surprised to get a note from the school office telling there was "a surprise" waiting for her. This beautiful rose was waiting... and the card was signed: To my favorite babysitter!

How sweet!

The Winter Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 19:46:00 +0000

This is the time of year that my fingers start to itch to get in to the garden. During Saturday's trip to the local home improvement store for some paint, I got sidetracked into browsing the display of seed packets, looking for something interesting.

Luckily, a couple of weeks ago, I came across some bulb kits on sale. My favorite for this time of year is forcing paperwhites. Easy as plopping the bulbs in a shallow container and adding water.

We are also fortunate to have a small, sunny alcove off the kitchen which is now the haven for all the plants I rescued from the garden. It's the perfect spot for the bowl of paperwhites. If you start now, you will most likely have blooms for Valentine's Day.

Two New Books!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 20:14:00 +0000

Two of my favorite authors have releases this month: Award winning author Nell Dixon's Dangerous to Know is available at Moonlit Romance.

www.moonlitromance.com

Nell has also gotten a rave review for Be My Hero, which was released by Moonlit Romance in 2007. http://theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/bemyherodixon.htm

And later this week Denise Patrick's book, Strikes Don't Matter will be released by By Grace Publishing. I had the privilege to read it as Denise was working on it, and it's too good to miss!
www.bygracepublishing.com

And don't miss her book Adopting Alyssa, a 2008 Eppie Finalist and 2008 CAPA nominee!

January Freeze

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 16 Jan 2008 16:21:00 +0000

Old Man Winter is back - and with a vengence. I knew the warmer temperatures were too good to last. We're going to be below freezing for the forseeable future -and we're expecting snow this afternoon into tomorrow.

January Thaw

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Tue, 08 Jan 2008 14:00:00 +0000

Yes, it's came. Yes, it was early. Way early. Yes, it made a mess.

When you've had snow on the ground since Thanksgiving and suddenly the temperature climbs to the mid-forties... can you say swamp?

Naturally, the run-off freezes during the night. Yesterday morning, after a few showers, the roads, (steps, deck, patio, driveway) were solid ice. My husband called twice on his way to work to make sure our daughter did not drive herself to school. We skated together in the van in a ballet of skids and slides as drivers slowed for stop signs but didn't allow the cars to lose their momentum. One scary moment at a notoriously slippery intersection, but all was well.

Two New Contests!

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 03 Jan 2008 17:53:00 +0000

There is a brand new authors' blog for Moonlit Romance and By Grace Publishing, and there are two contests running right now.

Here is the new link: http://uniqueenterprises.blogspot.com/

Check out the new features: a contest and an e-magazine with free short story each month, and bi-monthly University Fridays for aspiring authors.

What better way to cure the after-the-holiday blues than with a little romance?

Happy New Year

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Wed, 02 Jan 2008 02:02:00 +0000

A new year filled with hope and promise. A chance to "do-over" the resolutions that lasted about a week last year.

With renewed grit and determination, we'll see how long I can stay the course. I have already bent one resolution slightly: take the dog for a nice, daily walk. With the temperature hovering in the low teens and a wind chill in the single digits it just didn't happen. We did have a long game of tug-o-war with his new tug-o-war rope which is attached to a small, but heavy, not to mention smelly, rubber tire.

Best wishes for a Happy New Year.

Winter Wonderland

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 27 Dec 2007 20:15:00 +0000

Happy Holidays to everyone.

I took this photo of our white birch tree after a morning of freezing fog. We've had snow on the ground since Thanksgiving, with a few inches more expected tonight and tomorrow morning.

Turkey for Dinner - conclusion

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 20 Dec 2007 16:29:00 +0000

Turkey for Dinner - conclusion

Cate rubbed at her mouth with her fingers, but the sensation of Eric’s kiss lingered. What was he thinking? They were enemies, and had been for almost twenty years—ever since he’d put that half-eaten piece of pie on her chair. You just didn’t grab your enemy and lay one on her! Where were the ground rules?

She tried to pull away, but Eric tightened the arm he’d snaked around her waist.

“A five-minute wait is not going to make any difference in that turkey,” he said, as he lowered his head again. Cate froze, caught in his embrace, indecision running around her brain. Run, stay, run, stay. She’d almost decided to stay when she heard Gram come down the stairs. Pulling away from Eric, Cate bent over the turkey to hide her flaming face.

The next few hours were a whirlwind of activity. The onions bobbed gently in a saucepan, a mountain of potatoes was peeled and mashed, chairs collected from various parts of the house, and the table was set with Gram’s grandmother’s rose-patterned china. Eric slipped home to collect Aunt Ida and the house was crowded with guests.

Cate’s brother, Mark, and his fiancée, Anna, arrived just in time for dessert. Cate was just returning from the kitchen, a pumpkin pie balanced on one hand, apple pie on the other. Mark and Eric had been reminiscing about long summer days playing kickball during the day and card games in the evenings.

“Cate, remember the last time Eric was here for Thanksgiving? I left my pie on a chair when I went to get some milk and you sat on it. Never saw you so mad in all your life. And you thought Ricky—I mean, Eric, did it.”

Cate froze in the doorway, her eyes glued to Eric’s face.

“Oh no! You didn’t do that really did you, Mark?” Anna shook her head. “You’re always putting things down where they don’t belong. Can you believe he left his sunglasses in the freezer?”

Cate felt the heavy pie slip and she overbalanced to compensate. Suddenly, the weight was taken from her as Eric grabbed both pies and set them safely on the table. Without a word, he turned back to Cate, took her by the arm and led her out of the dining room.

“Where are they going?” Mark demanded, as the gathered company heard the front door open and close. “They’re going to miss dessert.”

“Excuse me a moment, everyone. I’m getting too old to sit here and my bones are aching. I think I’ll just walk a bit,” Aunt Ida explained as she stood up.

“Let me help you, Ida. Anna, will you serve the pies? Mark, there’s a bowl of whipped cream in the refrigerator.” Gram smiled graciously at the rest of the guests. “We’ll be right back.”

The late November afternoon was gray and swirls of snowflakes drifted down. Standing at the front window, Gram twitched the lace curtain aside just enough to allow Aunt Ida an unobstructed view.

“That went quite well, if I do say so, Ida.”

Aunt Ida nodded. “Summer wedding, do you think?”

“Could be. Now tell me again about your great-niece, Isabelle. My sister’s grandson, Jason, is just about her age...”

© 2007 by Susan Atwood

Turkey for Dinner Part VI

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 16:53:00 +0000

Part VI ~

“How can you sit there and peel those onions without crying?” Cate demanded. It really wasn’t fair. Not fair? It was downright galling. All that plotting to get Eric to suffer was wasted. Cate took a step back as the pungent fumes threatened to unleash a torrent of tears from her stinging eyes.
“Same way you can eat pumpkin pie and not end up in the emergency ward,” Eric replied in a cool voice that irked Cate. “It’s all a matter of sensitivity.” Cate took another step back as Eric’s eyes met hers across the table. He looked...amused. “Glad to see you have some.”
“Auugh.” Cate gave up. She stalked back to the counter and spooned stuffing into the turkey. There was silence in the kitchen for a few minutes. Cate flipped the turkey over with a grunt and a clatter as the heavy bird hit the roasting pan.
“Need a hand?”
“Nope. Got it. You done with those onions yet?” Cate didn’t even bother to look over her shoulder to see. Instead, she grabbed the ball of kitchen twine and a heavy upholstery needle. She pulled the flaps of skin across the bulging ball of stuffing and popped the needle through the bird’s tough skin and into the tender skin between her thumb and forefinger.
“Ow! Darn it!” She hopped up and before she came down, Eric had grabbed her hand and pulled her over to sink and was running cold water over her hand, which she’d balled up into a tight fist.
“Here, let me see.”
“I’m fine. Just let go.” But she wasn’t fine. Her heart was beating ten times faster than normal and she felt a flush crawl up her neck and suffuse across her face.
Eric’s hands were warm and gentle as he pried her fingers open and wiped a drop of blood away with a paper towel. They were even gentle as he applied pressure to the wound. Cate glanced up at him and saw none of the gloating she’d expected. In fact, there was nothing in his eyes but concern. Surprised, she raised her head and looked him square in the eye. She was even more surprised to find that his lips were warm and gentle as they met hers and he pulled her close.
Cate jumped back, her hand raised to her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“Kissing it all better. What did you think I was doing?” Eric’s hand traced small circles on her back. It made her dizzy.
“I don’t know. Stop that and help me get this turkey in the oven.”

(c) by Susan Atwood 2007

A Review

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Tue, 04 Dec 2007 16:48:00 +0000

*The Pendant: Callie* just got its first review from Coffeetime Romance. 4 cups!
Read the whole review here:
http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/Thependantcallie.html

And apologies for dropping Turkey for Dinner in mid-story. Between family demands and a nasty virus that's hit the family (me included! ) I've barely had a coherent thought in the past 10 days. A new installment will be up today.

Turkey for Dinner ~Part V

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 15:29:00 +0000

Part V

While Cate hung his coat up in the hall closet, Eric sprinted into the kitchen to take the heavy, old-fashioned coffee pot from Mrs. Miller’s trembling hand.
“Let me get that,” he offered. He set the pot on the stove and adjusted the flame underneath. With disaster averted, he looked around the small kitchen. Two pumpkin pies sat on cooling racks, a huge bowl of cubed bread stood next to a variety of herbs and spices in bottles and tins. A bowl of sliced apples sat next to a lump of dough and two pie plates. A saucepan of giblets and the turkey’s neck bubbled gently on the stove and the turkey itself, a monster, sat in an enormous pan waiting to be stuffed, trussed and roasted. Eric took a deep, appreciative breath filled with the aromas of Thanksgiving morning: cinnamon and spice and...onion?
Cate burst into the kitchen, a whirlwind of blond hair and energy. Her small hands pulled at his arm and she pushed him down into a chair. Before he could speak, she pressed a paring knife into his hand and dragged a huge pile of small white onions on a sheet of newspaper in front of him. She reached across the table in front of him and the citrusy scent of her hair eclipsed all the other aromas in the air. He wanted to grab her around the waist and pulled her into his lap so he could take another lungful of that scent. Only the fact that it would put a sharp knife in her reach prevented him. Instead Cate snagged a pot and plunked it down in front of him.
“Okay, you insisted, so here ya go. Just peel these and make an X in the bottom and drop ’em in the pot.” Cate wheeled away. “One hour, Gram.”
At that moment, Mrs. Miller turned from the counter, a plate of cookies her hand.
“Cate! You can’t ask a guest to peel onions.”
“Guest? I don’t see a guest. I see help. You said Mrs. Judson sent him over to help us. And I need help peeling the onions. Look, there’s a lot to do in the next hour, Gram. I don’t think Eric is up to making the stuffing or your famous apple pie. So, what’s left?”
Eric sat quietly and let the women work things out. He didn’t mind peeling the onions, although when his aunt sent him over to the Miller house to help them, he had envisioned putting leaves in the table, arranging chairs and bringing in firewood for the small fireplace in the living room. What he really wanted to do was be where Cate was. She’d grown from a spitfire ten-year-old whose gumption he’d admired into a beautiful woman. And if that meant peeling piles of vegetables, then he’d peel away.

(c) 2007 by Susan Atwood

Turkey for Dinner Part IV

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 18:53:00 +0000

Part IV ~

“What are you doing here so early? We already have a turkey, so we don’t need you. Go take care of your aunt Ida.”
“It’s Eric.”
“What? Aunt Eric?” Cate was confused.
“No. My name is Eric. No one calls me Ricky except Aunt Ida. And she is fine on her own. She’s talking to your grandmother on the phone. She sent me over here to help wrestle the turkey into the oven. I guess she didn’t realize that you were here to help.”
“Nope, no help needed. I’m here. Everything is fine. Come back at two. See you later.” Cate tried to shut the door, but Ricky’s broad frame was in the way. When did he get so big? Cate had only caught a glimpse of him now and then during their teenage years. She looked up into his face. He was a lot better looking than he’d been at twelve, too. “Hey, Ricky, Eric, whoever, I’m trying to shut the door here. How about moving?”
In an instant, Eric was standing in the small entry hall and shutting the door behind him.
“Hey! That’s not what I meant. You’re supposed to be on the other side.” Cate protested.
“Look, Cate, have a heart. Aunt Ida is stewing prunes for breakfast, and if I go back there, she’s going to make me eat them.”
“Have a heart? Why should I?” Cate gave Eric a shove in the general direction of the door, but he didn’t budge. “You didn’t have a heart when you left that pie on my chair.”
“Cate, I didn’t...”
Cate set her feet apart, braced them against the bottom stair and pushed with both hands.
“Oooof. Go home Eric.” She was just getting ready to put her shoulder into it when Gran spoke.
“Well, hello Ricky. I didn’t know you were here,” She came down the narrow stairs into the front hall. Cate stopped pushing and panted.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for inviting Aunt Ida and me to dinner.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you. Cate, take Ricky’s coat. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll make some coffee.”
“Gran!” Cate protested as he dumped his coat into her arms. It was warm and smelled like cologne and snow. Cate stifled an urge to pull the coat around her and take a deep breath. “No!” Cate shove the coat at his chest. “Ricky was just leaving.”
Gran didn’t hear here; she was already bustling around in the kitchen, pulling out the coffee and a tin of homemade cookies.
Eric grinned at Cate before he tossed his coat over her head.
“Looks like I’m staying a while. Hang that up for me, will you?”
Cate nearly threw the coat in Eric’s face, but at the last moment, she remembered the mountain of onions waiting to be peeled. A grin spread slowly over her face.
“Fine. If that’s what you want, you can help. Let me find you a knife.”

(c) by Susan Atwood 2007

Turkey for Dinner Part III

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 22 Nov 2007 03:55:00 +0000

Part III

Cate pushed the red gingham curtain aside and peered out the kitchen window. Fat white snowflakes swirled down from a pewter sky. Already, there were a few white spots where the grass met the concrete walk. “Gran! Look outside! It’s snowing! I don’t think we’ve ever had a white Thanksgiving before.”
“My goodness, will you look at that! Starting to stick, too. I’d better call Mrs. Judson and tell her she can come early. I wouldn’t want her to miss out on Thanksgiving because of the snow.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure Ricky can get here even if there are a couple of inches of snow on the ground.” Even as Cate said the words, she knew that Gran wouldn’t be happy until she’d talked to Mrs. Judson on the phone.
“I have the phone number upstairs. I’ll go get it,” Gran said.
Cate picked up another small white onion from the small mountain in front of her and peeled it. So much for Gran making Ricky Hall peel them. Three onions later, Cate had tears snaking down both cheeks. She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Just as she picked up another onion, the doorbell rang. Who could be at the door at 7:30 on Thanksgiving morning?
“Gran? Can you get that?” Cate called.
No answer. She must still be on the phone in the bedroom.
The doorbell pealed again.
Cate gave another swipe at her cheeks as she pulled open the wide front door. One look at the man standing there, and she swung the door closed. With one arm extended, the man at the door pushed the door back open.
“Hello Cate. Hey, Thanksgiving is a happy holiday. It’s not a time for tears. Not unless you sat on a piece of pie or something?” Ricky Hall propped one shoulder against the door frame looking so... smug, Cate itched to smack the smirk off his face.
“Saved an extra-big piece of pumpkin just for you, Ricky.” Cate retorted.

(c) by Susan Atwood 2007

Turkey for Dinner- Part II

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 04:41:00 +0000

Turkey for Dinner
(c) 2007 by Susan Atwood

“Aunt Ida? Do you need any help with that?”
Eric Hall arrived in the kitchen in time to see his Great-aunt Ida juggling the teakettle and her walker.
“Oh, no, Ricky, I’ve got it.” Eric, seeing her hand tremble with the weight of the kettle, had his doubts. “You sit right down there and I’ll get you some of those macaroons you bought yesterday.”
For a split second, Eric thought about refusing the cookies. For one thing, in the few days that he’d been staying with Great-Aunt Ida, he must have put on five pounds. Ida Judson was the proverbial food-pusher. But he knew that if he ate some cookies, she’d eat some too. By the time the social worker had contacted him, Ida had been missing meals on a regular basis. She was the one who needed to rebuild her strength after a bout with pneumonia that had landed her in the hospital.
Secondly, he hated macaroons.
Aunt Ida put a plate of cookies on the table and Eric took one. He bit into the sweet coconut and barely repressed a shudder.
“I’ve made reservations for Thanksgiving dinner at The Admiralty Inn. Have you ever been there, Aunt Ida?”
Eric jumped to make the tea when the kettle whistled and, whistling himself, surreptitiously dropped the half-eaten macaroon in the trash.
“Oh, Ricky, I forgot to tell you. We’ve been invited to dinner already.” Aunt Ida sat down heavily in her chair, even though she only weighed about ninety pounds.
“We have? I don’t feel right about that, Aunt Ida. I’ll just take you out and we’ll have a lovely meal. You’ll love The Admiralty Inn. They have a grand piano in the dining room and someone will play all those show tunes you’re always asking me to play for you. Only better!”
“Ricky, we’ve been invited by Mrs. Miller, down the street. As soon as she heard you were coming to visit, she asked us. You remember her, don’t you? You used to play with her grandchildren when you visited me in the summer. A boy and girl. Went to live with her after their parents died in a car accident. Very sad. I don’t remember the girl’s name, but the boy is Mark.” Aunt Ida smiled. “She remembered you right off.”
“The girl?” Eric asked, playing dumb. He knew her name almost better than he knew his own. Caitlin MacTavish Miller. Blonde pigtails, blue eyes, she’d been the girl of his dreams, except most of the time they’d been nightmares.
“No, Mrs. Miller.”
Cate Miller. She’d never given him the time of day after that Thanksgiving when she’d sat on a piece of pumpkin pie—whipped cream and all. Eric had had the bad luck to come into the room just as Cate stood up. He couldn’t help laughing—really it was funny. Cate didn’t see it that way. In fact, Cate blamed him for the whole thing, even though he’d never touched a piece of pumpkin pie once in his life. He was highly allergic to pumpkin. Cate didn’t know that, and had thrown the pie she’d scraped off the back of her purple velvet dress at him before she’d run out of the room. He'd had hives for two days.
It had been the worst Thanksgiving Day of his young life.
“Any chance Mrs. Miller’s grand-daughter will be at her house for dinner?” One could always hope she'd married and moved far, far away.
“Why, I believe she will be,” Aunt Ida answered.
Great. This could turn out to be the worst Thanksgiving Day of his adult life.

Turkey for Dinner - A short story

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 15:41:00 +0000

Part I ~

“How much did you say this turkey weighs, Gram?” Cate braced herself, then heaved the bird onto the kitchen table.
“Twenty-two pounds is what Herb says,” Gram. Gram flipped the wax-paper-covered pastry disc over and paused, rolling pin in her floury hands.
“Two-twenty is more like it. Herb didn’t have to lug the thing home from the butcher shop. Doesn’t he deliver?” Cate peered under the paper wrappings. “I hope you have a roasting pan big enough to fit this monster. Why such a big turkey, anyway? Planning to have leftovers for the next six months?” Cate said, over the rhythmic bang-roll of the rolling pin. “It’s just the two of us for dinner this year. Mark is going to his future in-laws for dinner, right? I think Anna said they’re only stopping by for dessert.”
Cate’s brother, Mark, had recently become engaged to Cate’s best friend, Anna, which left Cate as the only unattached Miller. Cate wasn’t bothered by it, much. After all, she was the youngest of all the Miller grandchildren. It wasn’t like she was thirty and didn’t have any prospects. And she still had six months, three weeks and two days ’til her birthday. And no, she wasn’t counting. Not really.
“Well, honey,” Gram glanced up from her pastry again, looking as guilty as an eighty-four-year-old grandmother could look. “I invited a few extra people. Just a few folks who really didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Cate closed her eyes. She loved Gram with all her heart. She was the most generous and caring woman Cate had ever known. But Gram also tended to get carried away with things. Like the time she volunteered to crochet baby blankets for the shelter and volunteers kept dropping off donated skeins of yarn until the dining room looked like a yarn factory.
“How many, Gram?”
“Oh, honey, not that many.”
“How many, Gram? And I sure hope you can corral one of them to peel the onions.”
Six was all Cate heard, as Gram mumbled the rest of the words.
“Sixty! Gram! You invited sixty people to dinner?”
“Caitlin MacTavish Miller! Don’t be ridiculous! How could I invite sixty people with only a scrawny bird like this one?” Gram poked at the turkey with the rolling pin’s faded red handle. “I said six--” Gram broke off in as she coughed. “Flour,” she explained. “Would you get me some water, please?”
“Six? Okay."
Cate handed Gran a glass of water. After the elderly woman took a sip, she looked Cate straight in the eye.
“No, honey, what I meant to say is there’ll be sixteen of us all together if Mrs. Judson and her great-nephew come.”
“Mrs. Judson’s great-nephew?” Cate didn’t want to yell at Gram, so she ground her teeth, held her breath and counted to sixteen. Her breath came out in a whoosh. “Gram, which great-nephew would that be?”
“Honey, you know Mrs. Judson only has one great-nephew. Ricky Hall.”
“Ricky Hall? You invited Ricky Hall to Thanksgiving dinner? Are you out of your mind? Do you know what he did to me the last time he came to Thanksgiving dinner?”
Gram laughed. “Oh, honey, I haven’t thought of that for years and years. And the look on your face when you sat on that pumpkin pie—how old were you?”
“Ten. It was my favorite dress, Gram, and Ricky Hall knew it and he ruined it on purpose. I will never eat another meal with that...” Cate ran though a list of descriptions searching for one she could say in front of her grandmother. There weren’t any. “...that person as long as I live, so you can just un-invite them.”
“Cate Miller, you never say never. I won’t un-invite them. Mrs. Judson is not doing very well these days. That’s why Ricky is staying with her. I’m sure that boy has no idea how to cook a turkey dinner.”
“Why can’t he buy one at the supermarket?” Cate grumbled. “Fine, Gram. But he’s peeling the onions.”

(c) 2007 by Susan Atwood

Short Story

noreply@blogger.com (Susan) — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 22:21:00 +0000

With Thanksgiving only a week away (where did the rest of this month go??) I got to thinking about a little seasonal romance. And so, starting tomorrow, I'll be posting a short serial Thanksgiving Day story.

Meanwhile, I'm gearing up for T-day here at home - juggling things in the freezer in hopes that by Saturday I'll be able to go buy the main attraction and have him fit.

Ice cream, anyone?