“One sec, because I have to boil the water.”
ANDI: I make a mean mashed potatoes. But fair warning: don’t wear white. My kitchen is covered in red.
I’m not entirely sure if I should mention Leona’s planning to come over when my phone beeps.
REID: Red?
I type back quickly, mentally planning for Leona’s interrogation.
ANDI: Jell-O. Don’t ask.
And he doesn’t push it.
REID: K. What time?
I text him two o’clock, and he responds.
REID: It’s a date.
No, it’s not, but I don’t tell him that. Or maybe it is ...
“Hellooo, toodles.” Leona opens the door without knocking.
“Hi, Leona, guess what?” I peek out from the kitchen and find the door wide open. Leona is stunning in a cranberry-colored pantsuit, gray and heavy skies behind her.
Gabby is attached to her waist and smiling. “Reid’s coming to eat turkey and bringing a fry thing.”
“Gabbs, shut the door. You’re letting the heat out.” I step out, smoothing my apron, waiting for Leona to pounce.
“Isn’t that nice, dear,” Leona says in a sinister-to-only-me tone.
“Mom and I saw him using it on the computer.”
“Oh, really? Is that so?”
“Happy Thanksgiving, Leona.” I gesture toward the couch. “Why don’t you sit down.”
“I can help you in the kitchen. Or maybe you’d rather wait for Reid to help? I understand the counters are a good height.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks, but she’s right, they are perfect.
“No, you take a seat, and I’ll be just fine all on my own.”
“You still can’t believe that you’re better on your own. No BOB is that good.”
“Who’s Bob?” Gabby dances between us, her skirt flouncing in the air.
“No one important.”
“You can say that again,” Leona says.
“Gabby, when you wear a skirt, you can’t jump like that. Your whole underwear shows. Sit and visit with Leona, and I’ll be back.”
“Are you going to change into a skirt?” Leona calls after me.
I don’t bother to answer. I’m not changing. Skinny jeans and a sweater are fine, right?
The doorbell rings, cutting my obsession to a minimum.
