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“I’m sure that could be arranged.” Gayle studied Tab’s gingerbread man. “You’ve done a great job. Well done. Although you’ve given that one three eyes.”
“I t
hought he’d be able to see better with more eyes.”
“It’s an interesting modification.” Gayle mixed more icing, to replace the mound that had landed on the floor. “Different color or the same color?”
“I want to give him a red hat.”
“Then let’s give him a red hat. Samantha—” Gayle glanced up “—the red food coloring is in the cupboard. Top shelf. Would you mind? Samantha?”
Samantha responded like a robot, retrieving the food coloring and handing it to her mother.
“You should probably do this part.” Gayle handed the bottle to Tab who took it without hesitation.
Samantha relaxed a little. That was more like her mother. Making someone do something themselves. If I do it for you, Samantha, how will you ever learn?
She winced as Tab poured so much food coloring into the icing that it looked like the scene of a crime.
Gayle simply smiled. “A strong, vibrant color. Well done.”
“I like red,” Tab said, blobbing the mixture onto the gingerbread. “Why are your clothes all black, Nanna?”
“Because it looks businesslike, and in my work I like to look businesslike.”
“But you’re not at work now.” Tab ate more gingerbread. “Black is a very sad color. Haven’t you ever wanted to dress like a mermaid?”
Gayle was lost for words. “I can’t say I have.”
“You should try it,” Tab said. “When my clothes are happy, I feel happy.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Oh Mom—” Ella was standing in the doorway, and her eyes were shiny “—this is wonderful.”
Michael came up behind her, a smile on his face. “Thoughtful of you, Gayle. It’s good to see Tab having fun.”
Samantha saw her mother let out what seemed to be an enormous sigh of relief, as if she’d been waiting to be marked on her performance.
“I’m going to bake with Nanna when we go away for Christmas. Is there a kitchen?”
Everyone turned to look at Samantha.
“Yes,” she croaked. “There’s a kitchen. Not sure if guests are allowed to use it though.”
Gayle slid the decorated gingerbread men onto the plate. “I’m sure you’ll be able to talk them into it. You seem pretty good at that.”
Samantha felt a creeping sense of dread.
It seemed she was going to be spending Christmas in Scotland, with humiliation and her mother for company.
Oh joy.
Kirstie
“I can’t believe you’re letting a bunch of strangers use our home over Christmas. It’s—it’s—” Kirstie drew breath, unable to find the right word “—cruel.”
“It’s practical.” Her brother grabbed another log from the pile and split it with a decisive thwak. “The only viable option in the circumstances.”
