Page 19 of A Curvy Carol
It wouldn’t just be a souvenir from my first Christmas in Garland.
It’d serve as my reminder of my first Christmas with her.
11
CAROLYNN
Icame into the kitchen where Mom was cooking dinner and showed her the picture of Whit and me holding our trophy.
She wiped her hands on her Christmas apron and zoomed in on the picture so she could read the plaque. “You won third place?” Mom asked, clearly surprised. We had never placed in all the years we competed. “That’s great, honey. I’m glad you had a good time.” There wasn’t even a hint of jealousy in her tone.
This was the first time I was really sharing any details about what had happened with Whit with Mom. But I couldn’t help it. It had been a fun day.
Best of all, Mom and Dad both finally seemed more relaxed about the holidays. Maybe they could tell how much I was starting to enjoy my time with Whit. I told her all about my day with him while we sat and ate chicken and dumplings at the table, bottle-brush Christmas trees standing between us.
After dinner, we put our dishes in the sink and got busy washing and drying them.
“This was a good idea,” Mom said as she scrubbed a pot. “I’m glad we decided to change things up this year.” She sighed. “You know, I have to admit the holidays have been a lot less stressful.”
I raised my eyebrows at her, and she looked at me kind of sheepishly. “I hate to say I told you so, Mom, but I told you so,” I said. She handed me the pan, and I worked to dry it.
She gave me a friendly nudge but went on. “I actually took a nap today. And I have an appointment at Vixen’s tomorrow for a spa day. I could get used to this.”
I smiled. “You should. This has been a nice change of pace.”
Mom had such a high-stress job that it was nice to finally see her relax and do something for herself.
“I still have presents to wrap,” she continued, grabbing our silverware from the bottom of the sink. “But maybe I can do that with a glass of wine and a show tonight…” Her eyes lit up like that would be a treat for her, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I liked this side of her.
Eyes still bright, she turned to me. “Hey, what do you think about baking some cookies with me? For old time’s sake?”
“Mom,” I groaned.
“Nothing crazy,” she replied quickly. “Just a couple dozen.”
I still hesitated.
“They don’t even have to be from scratch,” she added. “And they can be regular chocolate chip, not Christmas cookies.”
I gave in. “Okay. Maybe I can be the taste tester.” I smiled. I used to say that was the best part of being an only child—I always got to lick the spoon.
Within a few minutes, I was helping her mix the cookie dough and line the trays.
Mom put on some Christmas music, probably out of habit more than anything else, and it wasn’t even that bad.
After a few minutes, I realized it was because she wasn’t putting on any pressure to make it perfect. She danced around, not caring that the cookies weren’t perfectly shaped or in the oven for exactly twelve minutes.
“I could get used to this too,” I told her when the cookies had cooled down and we each grabbed one to try with a glass of milk. They were so good I was sad when mine was gone.
She gave me a hug and then we cleaned up together, storing the cookies in Ziplock bags. She even suggested I set one aside to take to Dad.
Once we were done, I got ready to head to my room for a quiet evening of crafting and maybe a movie since Mom wanted to wrap presents in the living room.
Just as I was grabbing my crafting bag, I realized I could hear something outside. “What’s that?” I asked.
“Is that singing?” Mom asked, coming into the living room and going to the window. She pulled back the curtains. “Oh, it’s the Carol Karens! They’re coming right around the corner.”
I went and looked too. There was a whole group of ladies from Garland who everyone called the Carol Karens. Every year, the week before Christmas, they went around town singing and caroling. They were some of the nicest old ladies around, even if they did love to gossip almost as much as they loved to sing.