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“We should probably talk about our Christmas dinner menu,” she said eventually as we chopped some veggies for Philly cheesesteak sandwiches.
“How about that, Mother?” I called. “Do you still make your apple pie?”
“Of course,” she said. “They boys ask for it every year.”
“They’ll love it,” I agreed.
“Maybe you’d be willing to teach me how to make yours?” Mia asked hesitantly.
“Have you made pie before?” Mom asked, looking down her Goddamn nose at Mia.
“I do. I made all the pies for Thanksgiving.”
Mother hummed, but nodded.
“Fine. I’ll teach you if you can keep up. Owen deserves to have a woman who can actually cook.”
That was a harsh hit to Paula, but she was finally being nice to Mia for once, so I kept my mouth shut and my opinions to myself.
“I’d like that,” Mia tried to be nice, agreeing even though my mother tended to be a real bitch.
“Owen, dear,” Mother said, dismissing Mia. “I’m almost out of yarn. Will you take me to the craft store? I need to get those sweaters finished for the boys for Christmas.”
I grimaced while my back was turned to her, but agreed.
“Sure. after lunch,” I said, making a face at Mia which made her laugh.
“Good,” mother said, then held up her glass. “Now, can you get an old woman some sherry?”
I rolled my eyes but did as she asked while Mia took over finishing off the veggies.
One week.
One more fucking week.
Chapter 32
-Mia-
“Merry Christmas!” I called as Charlie and Caden came in the door.
They were decked out in a full down jacket, scarf and beanie, just like those poor boys in the movie ‘A Christmas Story’.
“It’s so cold here!” Charlie complained as he unwrapped himself and hung up his gear on the hat tree by the door.
I helped Caden do the same and hung everything up for him before I noticed that Paula was there at the door, looking around with smarmy eyes.
“Is she here?” she said in a loud, stage whisper.
“In the kitchen,” I agreed, motioning over my shoulder.
“Are those my boys?” Owen’s mother called, coming out of the kitchen with a tidy apron wrapped around her slim waist.
“Oh shit, not fast enough!” Paula said, trying to hustle out the door before she was reeled in.
“So nice of you to bring them to see their grandmother,” she snapped at Paula. “You might have divorced my son, but you don’t get to keep them permanently! How did you even get custody?”
Paula didn’t respond. She simply gave me a sympathetic look before saying goodbye to the boys, then closing the door behind her without even giving a moment’s attention to Owen’s Mom.
