Dad immediately stared down at me. “Glory, are you afraid Stanley isn’t prepared to be a father?”
His question made me aware of how easily I go into worry mode. It wasn’t a habit I wanted to pass on to my child. “Please, forget I said that. Stanley has been very interested in being a part of baby care.” I looked at the shop window again and the many twinkling lights. Everything was so festive and yet I was getting sidetracked by stressful thoughts. “Dad, why do I worry about everything? Did I inherit a worry gene?”
“Gloria, there have been many times when I’ve seen you happy. So maybe it’s a combination of things that have you more worried right now.”
“That’s true. For one thing, I keep hoping I don't mess up being a mom.”
“Just remember, you won’t be alone. You have Stanley and a family who are always going to be there for you.” Dad laughed. “And you have a brother who has a lot of hands on experience with a baby.”
I giggled. “So you’re saying I can call Jack at two in the morning if I’m unsure of what to do?”
Dad hugged my shoulder. “Absolutely! Now let’s go inside this shop. You said you wanted some little gifts for people and those display ornaments look like they might fill the bill.”
When we returned to Dad’s car, I was content with my morning adventure. I not only bought some wonderful ornaments, I purchased some little wooden Christmas figures. I hoped they might be keepsakes for family members. I particularly liked a tiny sled full of presents, a smiling drummer boy, a rocking horse and a deer with little antlers.
By one o’clock, we were sitting at a table in a French café. Like the little shops we’d been visiting, the eatery was beautifully decorated with swags of glitter and greenery around the ceiling, a corner Christmas tree with golden ornaments and pinecones, and vintage lanterns on each table.
Dad and I both ordered a fresh salad, followed by the café’s specialty, Quiche Lorraine. For dessert, I indulged my sweet tooth with a special eggnog crème brûlée. I savored every bite of the rich custard. Christmas sprinkles made the crisp caramel top layer extra special. Dad decided on the mille-feuille. The flaky puff pastry and pastry cream looked so delicious, I had to have a bite.
We left the café feeling satisfied and content. I was grateful for my time with Dad. He’s so much wiser now than he seemed to be when I was growing up.
Twenty
WHEN I GOT BACK from my shopping trip, Stanley was smiling. I was relieved to see his cheerful face. It had been a while since he looked so animated. Of course, Ben picked up on his mood. He bounced around both of us with his own expression of joy. Then he took off and had a puppy crazy, racing from the foyer to the kitchen and back. It was additional proof that things were looking up.
Stanley explained that his parents were making some headway in communicating. In fact, they had agreed to Stanley’s invitation to have dinner at our house that evening.
“Glory, I hope you don’t mind my asking my parents over for a meal together. I’ll do all the cooking, and you can relax after your outing with your Dad.”
I was quick to agree. “Dinner with your parents sounds nice,” I said. “And I’ll take you up on your suggestion. I loved my timewith Dad, but walking around for hours does take its toll. I think I’ll take a nap.”
I looked at our pup as I started for the stairs. “Do you want to come with me, Ben?”
Ben gave me a thoughtful once-over, but when Stanley started for the kitchen, he was quick to follow. Stanley tries to resist Ben’s begging. However, some bites of raw carrot and apple usually find their way to Ben’s food dish.
When I was falling asleep, I planned on a short, restorative nap. Almost two hours later, I came awake not knowing where I was. It took a couple of minutes to come out of my deep sleep. Sniffing the air and smelling homemade bread helped to bring back a sense of clarity. My lunch was a thing of the past, and my body was ready for a big snack before dinner.
I made a quick but careful trip down the stairs and headed straight for the kitchen. I walked into the room just as Stanley was taking a loaf of bread out of the oven. Before I commented on the bread, I sniffed the air again. “Do I smell your awesome beef stew?” I asked as I went over to the stove. Without waiting for Stanley to answer, I grabbed a pot holder and lifted the lid off a large stew pot. I was instantly rewarded with a sight that made my mouth water. A hearty, rich, wintery meal was simmering in the pot.
I also noticed a basket on the table. It was filled with cornbread muffins. I turned to Stanley with a look of wonder. “My goodness, you’ve been very busy while I was napping.”
Stanley put the bread on a cooling rack and came over. He put his arms around my waist, what there was left of it. “And I bet you’ve been working up an appetite while you were dozing.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled. “You’re right, of course.”
Stanley brushed my lips with a kiss. “There’s a fruit smoothie with your name on it in the refrigerator.”
Ben pawed at Stanley’s pant leg, letting him know that pups need nourishment too. Stanley shook his head and looked down at Ben. “Didn’t I give you a snack already, my little friend?”
Ben responded with a pathetic whine, and he pawed Stanley’s pant leg again.
A few minutes later, I was content to indulge in my smoothie, and Ben was in his bed chewing on one of the homemade, dog biscuits that Mom sent over. My delicious drink was served in a festive, holiday glass with a smiling snowman face, and Ben’s biscuit was shaped like a gingerbread man. As I slurped up my smoothie and Ben crunched on his treat, a sense of peace and tranquility settled over the kitchen.
I tried not to let my mind wander into dangerous territory as the dinner hour drew near. I couldn’t let myself think about what could go wrong with the Bickerman visit. When Ben saw me sit down on the living room sofa, he was quick to jump up and lay next to me. He quickly settled down on a plaid blanket I kept on the couch. After his snack, his expressive, brown eyes soon closed to the world, and he snored quietly.
I picked up a book from the side table and began to read. I’d wanted to help in the kitchen, but Stanley insisted I cozy up with a good story. I was enjoying a holiday romance when the doorbell rang. Ben instantly came awake, did a hasty shake and jumped down. As he ran for the door, I felt a little lump in my throat. Would Barbara end up in tears like the night before? Would Stan Sr. turn into an overbearing nincompoop midway through dinner? I put my hand on my belly. “Everything is going to be okay,” I whispered to baby and to myself.
While Stanley welcomed in his parents, I got up and joined them in the foyer. I hoped I had a pleasant look on my face. Barbara immediately came forward and hugged me. “Thank you so much for having us,” she said quietly. In the next moment, she let me go and turned to Stanley. She gave him a hug too. StanSr. greeted me next. “Thank you for the invitation, Gloria,” he said as he came over to where I stood.
