AllFreeNovel
Share Us
From the front walk, I could hear Mama haranguing my father about this big old place and how a single girl like me couldn’t keep up with mowing the lawn or cleaning the gutters. The house didn’t actually have gutters, but to point that out would tip them off to my super-hearing.
“Jenny could have turned this into a real showplace,” Mama was saying as they climbed the front steps. “And Jane, well, she never had any sense for decorating. And I just worry about her being out here all alone.”
“She can take care of herself, Sherry,” Daddy said, his tone weary. He seemed more and more weary these days when dealing with Mama.
My father. What can I say about the man who read with me every night from birth? And I’m not talking Good Night, Moon or Pat the Bunny. I’ll bet I’m the only person on earth to hear two Lincoln biographies before my first birthday. Daddy was the head of the history department at the local community college. It colored his parenting techniques.
Daddy was the one who persuaded Mama not to enter me in the Little Miss Half-Moon Hollow pageant. He was the one who declared that it was wrong to put me at another family’s table at my sister’s wedding. If not for his regrettable taste in middle names, he would be Father of the Century.
“Hi, baby,” he said as I opened the door. He kissed my cheek, smelling of old books and Aqua Velva. Before I could answer, Mama was shoving a hot foil-wrapped bundle into my hands and checking my furniture for dust.
“Don’t you worry, honey, everything will be fine,” she said, bustling through my kitchen to check for dirty dishes.
Setting the pot pie aside, I led Mama into the living room before she could start alphabetizing my spice rack. And then we started our usual passive-aggressive conversational volley.
“Don’t you worry about not being able to find another job,” Mama said, wiping her fingers down my mantel.
My internal response: That hadn’t occurred to me, Mama, but thank you.
“Nobody I’ve talked to thinks being fired was your fault.”
Exactly how many people have you talked to?
“I’ve already talked to DeeDee about you working down at the quilt shop with me.”
Oh, good merciful St. Jude on toast.
After Jenny and I hurtled from the nest, Mama took a part-time job at A Stitch in Time, a shop that sold fabric and quilting supplies. In the five years she had worked there, I’d received quilted vests for every birthday and Christmas.
I hope this gives you some idea of what I was dealing with.
I couldn’t visit my mother at the shop for more than a few minutes at a time. I had allergic reactions to fabric sizing and old women asking me when I was going to settle down. Working there would be my damnation to whatever circle of hell is dedicated to busybodies and fabric artists.
“Oh, Mama, I don’t think that would be possible. Ever.”
Aunt Jettie appeared at my right, laughing her phantom butt off. I growled at a decibel level below human hearing.
“Let me help,” Jettie whispered. I shook my head imperceptibly. She rolled her eyes and faded out of sight.
“Mama, I think you and Daddy need to sit—”
Mama sighed. “Now, Jane, I don’t want you moping around this big old place by yourself. I think, for the time being, you should move back in with Daddy and me.”
St. Jude had just jumped from the toaster to the frying pan. I made a sound somewhere between a screech and a wheeze.
Sensing my distress, Daddy said, “Oh, Sherry, leave the girl alone. Can’t you see she’s got something to tell us?”
“Oh, um, thanks, Daddy,” I said, motioning for them to sit on the couch. Mama fluffed the pillows and beat unseen dust from the cushions before making herself comfortable.
Jettie popped up behind the sofa. It was so weird that they had no idea she was standing less than a foot behind them. “Tell them you’re pregnant with a married minister’s baby, then say, ‘Just kidding, I’m a vampire,’” she suggested.
“Not helping,” I whispered.
“What’s that, honey?” Mama asked, buffing fingerprints off my coffee table.
“Well, I have some interesting, exciting news,” I said, stalling.
“It’s about that Gabriel, isn’t it?” Mama squealed. “You’re engaged?”
