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How had her relationship with her mother ended up getting so off track? All she had ever done was try to please her mother, try to make her see that she was worthy of her love. In all fairness, her mother loved her in her own quirky way. But she always seemed to disapprove. It was her mother’s approval she’d always been trying to earn. No matter what she did or how hard she tried, she never seemed to measure up.
As Becca carried the trays with her homemade pies to her car, she vowed to never make her children feel as if they had to earn her approval.
The first thing her mother said to her when she arrived at the house at four o’clock was “You’re late, Rebecca.”
“It’s four o’clock, mother. We won’t serve dinner until seven-thirty.”
“Well, since I gave the staff Thanksgiving Day off, it would’ve been nice for you to offer to help.”
Of course, she was being sarcastic. She didn’t have staff. Isabel Flannigan prided herself on being a homemaker—and a darn good one at that, if you were giving credit where credit was due. Besides, she probably wouldn’t have been able to find somebody to measure up to her standards if she could have had staff. And then there was the problem of finding someone who actually had the hide of steel to withstand her mother’s scrutiny on an hourly basis. Becca couldn’t even imagine such a person existed.
“Why didn’t you ask me to come earlier? I’m not very good at reading minds. Where is Rosanna? Is she here yet?”
“Oh, heavens, no. I want this to be a pleasant day. She and I would simply be at each other’s throats. I told her and Victor to arrive around six o’clock.”
So that was the secret, huh? If you made Isabel miserable enough, you were released from family obligation. Her sister was smarter than her mother gave her credit for.
“Well, then, she gets to do the cleanup,” Becca said. “Just because she’s hard to get along with doesn’t mean she gets a vacation.”
“Oh, Rebecca, stop saying nasty things about your sister. Do you hear yourself?”
No, Mom, I can’t seem to hear myself over the echo of your negativity.
That’s what Rosanna would have said, and the two of them would’ve gotten into a sparring match that would’ve lasted until Rosanna left in tears or their mother ended up going upstairs with a sick headache. Becca, on the other hand, swallowed her words, sat down at the kitchen table and started peeling the sweet potatoes.
She’d rather cook than clean up, anyway. And with Nick here, she’d have a good reason to leave the cleanup to Rosanna. Becca’s stomach gave a nervous turn when she remembered running into Rosanna at the mall. Of course, there was the little matter of the little white lie she’d told when Rosanna had been quizzing her about why she was browsing in the baby department. There would be hell to pay for that one.
For a moment Becca contemplated pulling Rosanna aside and sharing the news with her before she and Nick told the rest of the family. But as quickly as the idea presented itself, Becca decided against it. She wanted to keep today as uncomplicated as possible. Despite how her parents had mandated that she and Nick announce their news to the rest of the family today, they were onboard with it. It made sense. The next time the entire family would be together would be Christmas.
She wanted to share the news with her friends. Since Celebration was such a small town, if she did that, a family member was bound to find out. She wouldn’t want to receive news like that secondhand. So this was a do unto others as she would hope that they would do for her sort of decision. But Rosanna could be such a loose cannon, if Becca tried to appease her, she might end up spilling the beans before Becca and Nick had a chance to make the announcement. Faced with the potential fallout of that and her sister’s inevitable protests that Becca had lied to her, Becca was better prepared to deal with Rosanna.
All she had to say to her sister about that day at the mall was she didn’t want to tell her about the babies until she and Nick had told Mom and Dad.
Becca was surprised how fast time flew. She’d been busy in the kitchen all afternoon—even if her mother had insisted that she stay seated. It was amazing what could be accomplished at the kitchen table. Now it was seven-fifteen, and Victor had been enlisted by his grandmother to round up the crew and instruct them to wash their hands and be at their respective places at the table—there were place cards for the assigned seating, and Victor had a list and was to help them find their way. His chest was puffed out with the importance of this job that allowed him to tell the adults what to do, for a change, rather than being bossed by the adults.
