Let Them Eat Cake: A Novel (French Twist) by Sandra Byrd

Author:Sandra Byrd [Byrd, Sandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Quaystrokes
Published: 2012-12-04T05:00:00+00:00

We always got up early on Easter morning, even if it was too cloudy in Seattle to see the sunrise, and it usually was.

“Sleeveless dress, eh?” My mom tweaked the flesh on my upper arm.

I flexed my bicep. “I'm not doing all those workouts for nothing.”

“You look very pretty,” Mom said. “I'm sure everyone will notice.”

“You look pretty too,” I said. She'd recently tossed out most of her stretch pants and had started wearing regular slacks and even some skirts.

“I don't want to look like a haystack compared to Leah's mother,” she replied.

Ah. Now I understood the recent wardrobe makeover.

A barrel of family fun lay ahead of us that day. Leah's mom was coming for dinner, along with Nonna—and her date!—and Uncle Bennie, the human resources guru. Please don't let him bring up the failed job in Bellingham, I silently begged.

Tanya planned to come for a little while. I don't think she'd talked with Steve since I'd met him at the café the week before, and she'd been so “busy” that I hadn't been able to pin her down to talk.

“Are we going? Or are we going to celebrate Easter at Christmas?” my dad bellowed from the garage.

Mom beamed. For the first time in a long while, my dad was coming to church. I'd asked him last night, telling him it was my last Easter at home and I wanted him to come. But I really asked him for Mom, and he knew it.

We drove to church, and I think even Dad was impressed by how many people stopped to talk with Mom. He rarely went with her, so I don't think he realized how connected and cared about she was. It felt cozy to be between them in church. This is what other families must feel like all the time.

I want my kids to feel like this, I thought. Kids? Oh, no no no. First they have to squawk. No thanks. But celebrating the Resurrection felt more real and less rote to me than it had in a long time.

After the service, the three of us drove home. Nonna had already commandeered the kitchen. I pinched a piece of cooling Easter egg sweet bread, and Nonna tapped my behind with her hand.

“That wasn't ready yet!” She tugged me into the family room. “I'd like you to meet Stanley Jones. Stanley, this is my favorite granddaughter.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Jones,” I said, smiling. “I remember hearing about you. You subscribe to National Geographic, don't you?”

Stanley stood up to shake my hand. “Why, yes. I do. How did you know?”

Nonna gave me the evil eye. “Stanley is enjoying a little relaxation. Why don't you go and mix a Bellini for him, and we'll show him some hospitality?”

I laughed to myself all the way to the kitchen. Easter was the one holiday we did all Italian in honor of Nonna. I always thought it was weird to eat lamb on Easter. Lamb of God and all that. I wondered if my mother had always wanted Italian on Easter, or if Nonna had ever asked her.

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