Mom eyed the mess scattered on the counters, in the sink, and yes, even the floor. “I don’t mind helping. I love to cook.”
“Evan will be here any minute, and we’re going to make everyone a fabulous dinner. Consider it a small token of thanks for all the years you cooked.” She scanned the mess with her own eyes. “Just ignore all this.”
“Can I at least sweep the flour off the floor?”
“I can see your fingers already itching for the broom.” Janie laughed. “If you want to sweep, I won’t argue with that.”
The homemade crust turned out disastrous in the first round, but the second attempt would suffice. She glanced at her to-do list stuck on the fridge with a magnet. Compared it to the clock on the wall. Even with starting earlier this morning than she’d planned, she quickly fell behind.
Now she understood why people started their preparations in the days leading up to Thanksgiving. She’d always thought they only did that because they were cooking for exceptionally large groups or crafting sophisticated recipes that required extra time. In a few hours, she’d learned the truth—making Thanksgiving dinner was hard work.
Mom returned with a broom and dustpan in hand. She started to sweep, then stopped and looked her with a strange expression. “Is there something between you and Evan?”
Stunned by the question, Janie couldn’t answer right away. “We’re good friends, just as we’ve always been.”
“Nothing more?”
“Not at all. Why?” Her heart thumped in a visceral reaction she couldn’t stop.
Her mom shrugged then continued sweeping. “It seems you’ve been spending lots of time with him lately, and you mention his name often.”
“If so, it’s only because we’ve been planning today.”
“Evan’s a good man. If you fell in love with him, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” A sly grin spread slowly over her mother’s mouth.
“Mom!” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I’m not sure I’lleverlove again—and right now, it’s too gigantic of an idea to even think about. Besides, if I do fall in love again, it won’t be with one of Mike’s best friends.”
Opening, then shutting her mouth, her mom appeared to want to say more, but wisely remained quiet. Janie wasn’t sure she could take any more comments along those lines. She’d determined to make today a day of thanks and gratitude, which was already a struggle without hints that she should find a new husband.
The timer on the gas oven dinged, signaling the apple and pecan pie were done. She slipped an owl and acorn decorated oven mitt over her hand and pulled out the two pies, then replaced them with the pumpkin ones.
“Smells good, honey.”
“Thanks, Mom.” She breathed in the sweet aroma, picking out the cinnamon and nutty scents.
When the doorbell rang, her mom dumped the contents of the dustpan in the trash. “I’ll get the door for you.”
A few seconds later, Evan entered the kitchen with a white plastic grocery bag in each hand. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Same to you.”
He set the bags on the counter then gave the area the same appraising glances her mom had. “Chaotic morning?”
“Not at all.” She winked before unpacking the grocery bags. She lifted a white tub, reading the lid. “Is this the rice dressing mix you told me about?”
“Yes. I always thought Mom made hers from scratch, but she told me this is her secret. You just heat this and add it to cooked rice.” He took the container from her hands and pried the lid open. “She overnighted this to me on dry ice.”
“That was sweet.”
“She had ulterior motives.” Evan gathered the trash from the counter and tossed it into the receptacle to make more work room. He grabbed a disinfecting wipe and rubbed it over the counter space. “She wants me to come home for Christmas.”
“Are you going to?” She pulled a skillet and dutch oven from a bottom cabinet. “Will these work?”
“Yes, to both.”
Her throat sank to her stomach. Jared had announced last week they’d approved his leave for Christmas and would head to Wyoming in mid-December. Now Evan was leaving too? Maybe she should go home for Christmas. It wasn’t too late. But Mike’s family would want to see her. She kept in touch with them, but that was different than sitting in the house where Mike had grown up and with pictures of him on every wall.
There’d be no escaping the memories. What was a girl to do?
