SUGARPLUM HOMECOMING by Linda Goodnight

Author:Linda Goodnight
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Thanksgiving Day arrived cold and rainy, the skies weeping down the windowpanes of the Ross house. A blustery wind whipped the barren crepe myrtle trees against the needed-to-be-replaced siding.

Inside the house all was snug while the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade boomed from a nineteen-inch TV Lana had found at a garage sale. A vigorous marching band pounded out a cheerful, familiar rhythm. Surrounded by autumn color, a pair of talking heads blabbed over the music. Bundled against the cold, their breaths puffed white fog.

Lana stood over the gas range where warm moisture from boiling potatoes dampened her face. Sydney chopped lettuce for a salad. The ancient oven hadn’t worked since Lana was fourteen, so she’d bought a precooked rotisserie chicken from the IGA for their main course. A turkey was too much for the two of them anyway.

Cooking wasn’t Lana’s game but as with her newspaper job, she could read and she could learn. Sydney learned along with her, probably more natural in the kitchen than Lana would ever be. Store-bought chicken, canned gravy, packaged stuffing was as close as she could come to a traditional meal. At least she and Sydney were together.

Times like these she wished for a big, noisy family, especially for her niece. A mother who baked for days and a sister with the perfect recipe for sweet potato casserole and pecan pie. A dad to carve the turkey and maybe a few brothers to horse around and yell at televised football games. Sydney deserved better than one single aunt and an AWOL mother she barely knew.

“Can I smash the potatoes?” Sydney asked. She’d pulled her fuzzy hair into a ponytail and tied it with a purple ribbon, a match for her purple monkey sweatshirt. Loose beige curls corkscrewed along her hairline.

“Smash ’em, mash ’em, stomp ’em. Whatever works.”

Sydney’s aqua eyes laughed before her mouth did. Lana smacked a kiss on her forehead, then handed her Mama’s metal potato masher, tossed some butter in the bowl and let Sydney pound away while she put the food on the table.

Today was the day they started their own holiday customs, something Sydney hadn’t had heretofore. Lana had shared family traditions once, and the memories were some of her happiest. Daddy had made a fuss over the fine brown bird, which had made Mama smile. Usually by day’s end, Mama found something to be angry about but the meal was usually peaceful, thanks to her father.

She wanted that for Sydney. Good memories, good times to block out the bad.

“Here you go, Miss Ross,” she said, pulling the chair out for Sydney. “Please be seated for this luscious, marvelous Thanksgiving feast.”

“Just like the Pilgrims,” Sydney said as she minced into the seat like a pampered princess. “But who’s going to hold your chair?”

Lana winked. “Good ol’ me.” She wiggled all ten fingers. “I’m so handy.”

The silliness made Sydney giggle again. “This smells yummy.”

“It should. I’ve slaved over that boxed stuffing for a full five minutes.” She fanned her face and grinned, then took her place kitty-corner from the little girl who held her heart.

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