“Speaking of food, my stomach is starting to rumble,” Carol admitted. “And the idea of oatmeal with applesauce is appealing.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“I’ll get right to it.” She stood.
“I just hope I don’t get too used to being waited on by you.” Maria chuckled.
Carol forced a smile but felt concerned. How would her aunt do on her own? She still didn’t know Carol was leaving today. Mindful that the clock was ticking, Carol rechecked theweather forecast on her phone and then scanned the airline’s website. The storm was predicted to worsen by evening, but she should be gone by then. No flights had gone out so far, but several were scheduled for early afternoon. Hers was still listed for an on-time departure.
She knew she should be relieved by this news as she read the oatmeal instructions. It wasn’t like the instant packets she used at home. She measured water and salt and poured them into a saucepan. As she turned on the flame, she tried to imagine herself lazing in the Bahamas with Michigan and snowstorms far behind her. She should have been excited by the idea. Instead, she felt a heaviness at leaving Maria in the lurch like this.
As she got bowls out, she thought about Victor and how she’d enjoyed his company in the kitchen last night. Not to mention his culinary skills. And he was intelligent and kind and had a good sense of humor too. Of course, Maria’s hint hadn’t escaped her. And why shouldn’t she want her only niece to marry her best friend’s son? To a woman who confessed to enjoying Hallmark movies and rom-coms with happy endings, a match like that would be ideal, perhaps even “made in heaven.”
But why was Carol being so silly? Why go there? Despite her aunt’s gloomy forecast for Victor and Victoria, Carol wasn’t convinced. Victor seemed too sincere to date a girl “for convenience.” If he didn’t have genuine interest in Victoria, why would he stick with her so long? Were good women in short supply around here? She smiled to herself, trying to blow this all off. She was thinking like a middle school girl.
She carefully measured the old-fashioned oats and poured them into the boiling water, just like the directions said. She turned on the timer, hoping the oatmeal mixture wouldn’t stick to the pan or turn to glue. What kind of numbskull couldn’t make oatmeal right? She chopped walnuts and even found a jar of raisins in the cupboard. Struggling to open the jar of applesauce, she imagined herself sitting outside her resort hotel,ordering whatever she liked from the menu and soaking in sunshine while someone else fixed her breakfast. She imagined being catered to, returning to a comfortable room where her bed was not only made but turned down with a chocolate on the pillow. Just like in the brochure. She envisioned herself lounging by the pool or beach with a colorful, icy drink trimmed with a tiny paper parasol. Without a care in the world ...
Except that she did have a care. She cared about Maria. They still hadn’t figured out if her arm was really broken. She might need real help for a while. Carol couldn’t help but care. And, as hard as it was to wrap her head around this, she cared about Victor too. She even cared about his family. Which seemed ridiculous since she hadn’t even met Antonia and Larry. Yet she already felt pulled in. How had this happened in just twenty-four hours? It was like getting stuck here in Michigan had placed some kind of spell on her. She shook her head sharply, as if to dislodge the thoughts spinning around in there, but the stove timer went off, and she knew it was time to dish up the oatmeal and set the table.
She paused to read Maria’s calendar by the door. Counting the days until Christmas, she saw it was less than a week away. Neatly penned in for the upcoming Saturday was “Habitat Fundraiser—Christmas Cotillion, 7:00 p.m.” Victor had mentioned that yesterday. She scanned the calendar again, and saw “decorating for cotillion” penciled in for the two days before, reminding her that her aunt liked to help with that. Well, not this year.
Carol called out to Maria that breakfast was served, and soon they were both seated in the kitchen, bowing their heads while Maria asked a blessing. They both got quiet while eating. Carol was still trying to sort out her conflicting feelings. She’d only booked the Bahamas resort for a week, but already she’d lost one day. Even if she could extend her stay, it would be inconvenient since she’d promised Marsha she’d return afterChristmas to do the year-end inventory. Being stuck in the design firm’s storage unit to count lamps and rugs and things sounded like a punishment right now. Especially if her Bahamas visit was ruined. Meanwhile, snowflakes were starting to fly outside the kitchen window again. Perhaps she’d be stuck here longer after all. Maybe that would be good. Or maybe she was just very confused.
7
As Carol loaded the dishwasher, Maria mentioned the upcoming Christmas Cotillion. “It’s a historical dance that Miller’s Creek has held every year since 1918. Well, except for those COVID years. That was very sad. We turned it into a fundraising event about twenty years ago. The last several years have been for Habitat for Humanity. I usually help out.”
Carol noted the melancholy tone in her aunt’s voice. “But you should be able to attend ... I mean, your arm shouldn’t keep you away, should it?” She put the detergent in the dishwasher dispenser, rinsed her hands, and turned to see Maria’s downcast expression.
“Oh, yes, I’m sure I’ll go,” Maria said. “But I usually have such fun managing the decorations.”
Carol re-hung the dish towel. “Why can’t you still manage them? You did great directing Victor and me last night.”
Maria smiled. “Well, you obviously knew what you were doing. But the cotillion is different.” Her smile faded. “Managingis the wrong word. I usually do most of the legwork.”
“Maybe this is your year to learn delegation.” Carol refilled her coffee mug and briefly described how Marsha loved ordering her around at work. “You can just sit in a chair and tell everyone what to do.”
Maria looked amused but unconvinced.
“I’d love to help if I could.” Carol checked the kitchen clock, wishing she could pack more hours into the day. The least she could do would be help make her aunt’s house Christmassy.
“No, no, I wouldn’t expect that.”
“How about if I get the rest of your house decorated today? We made some progress last night, but I know you’re hosting friends and neighbors on Christmas Eve. Can I help you get the house all spruced up for that?”
Maria brightened. “Oh, Carol, I would absolutely love that. But what about your Christmas aversion? You sure you don’t mind?”
Carol considered her answer. “Like I said, this is different. Decorating for you is nothing like doing it for some hoity-toity, hard-to-please client. Believe me.”
“Well, I appreciate anything you can do. And I don’t think I need to direct you. Unless you want me to.”
“How about we collaborate?”
Maria lifted her mug in a toast. “Here’s to collaboration.”
After putting onWhite Christmasto amuse Maria, Carol spent an hour bringing down the rest of the boxes of decorations from the attic. By the time she was ready to begin, her aunt was snoozing in her recliner, still clutching her injured arm, but she looked peaceful enough that Carol hated to disturb her. Maybe this was for the best. She knew she could get more done if left to her own devices. And since Maria had seemed unconcerned—a refreshing change from paying clients with unrealistic expectations and goals to impress or outdo their family and friends—Carol wasn’t worried.
In fact, with cheerful music from the movie playing in the background, it was surprisingly enjoyable. But she knew this was about to come to an end. If she wanted to make it to the airport, she’d need to leave the farm by 3:30. At least the weather seemed to be holding. A few flakes were flying and thesky was gray, but each time she gazed out over the beautiful snowy landscape, she was pleased to see no blizzard brewing. And according to her phone, her flight was still scheduled. But she still needed to secure some ground transportation. Not wanting to wake her snoozing aunt, she went up to her room to make these inquiries in private.
