First Impressions: A Jane Austen Variation by Alicia J. Chumney

Author:Alicia J. Chumney [Chumney, Alicia J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2022-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

There were a few things that the Barnes Sisters dreaded.

Their ‘family reunion’ always started on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when their Aunt Lydia and Uncle Philips decided to stay the night under the guise of helping their mother with the Thanksgiving meal the very next morning.

Aunt Lydia would always sleep in. Their Uncle Philips – they never learned his first name and Aunt Lydia always referred to him as ‘My Dear’ even when angry – would stake a claim on a chair in the living room, turn on the parade followed by a football game, and pass out. If anybody tried to change the channel, thinking he was asleep, he would jerk awake and glare at whichever unsuspecting relative had their hands on the remote.

He apologized if it was his brother-in-law, wife, or sister-in-law.

That year, Elizabeth leaned over to Jane and whispered, “Is it normal that we don’t know Uncle Philips’s first name?”

Jane leaned back, “I tried to ask Papa once, but I don’t think he even knew.”

“I wonder if we can find their marriage certificate online,” Elizabeth mused.

“Doubtful,” Mary piped up from where she was studying the recipe for green bean casserole.

“Why is that?”

“Because Aunt Lydia was married before Uncle Philips and we don’t have a clue what her first husband’s name was or when they were married or divorced. While we could certainly look up the information, I suspect it would take longer than any of us want to deal with.”

“Mary has a point,” Jane said.

“Yes, she does,” Elizabeth agreed. “I wonder if Aunt Lydia knows what her husband’s name is.”

“I should hope so,” Mary stated before starting the process of opening the cans of green beans, cream of mushroom soup, and mushrooms.

Lydia – not the aunt – came in asking her sisters how much longer it was going to take. “I’m starving.”

“The turkey is still in the oven. Aren’t you in charge of the sweet potatoes this year?” Jane asked her sister, hands deep in kneading her bread.

Jane was always in charge of the bread.

“The potatoes,” Lydia answered her. “I’m going to boil them and season them with some butter and some herbs. Parsley or something like that.”

“Lydia,” Jane groaned, probably the only sibling Lydia would listen to. “Mama told us mashed potatoes this year.”

“But boiled potatoes are just so excellent.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, some movie.”

“Mashed potatoes. You better start peeling and cutting them. They’ll take forever to cook.”

Grumbling some words her sisters didn’t want to take the time to comment on, Lydia went over to the bag of potatoes on the counter and started counting them out. “Do you think five is enough?”

“You need fifteen.”

“You need the two bags,” Elizabeth countered. “Aunt Mary and Uncle Edward are bringing their entire brood this year.”

“They only have two kids,” Jane pointed out.

“Sometimes they act like they have more.”

“When will they be here?” Mary asked her sisters. Uncle Edward always brought her a new book to study whenever he came to visit.

“They should be in the driveway right now.

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