Authors: Kate Sweeney
Kit’s heart raced as she waited. “Are you?”
“Yes.” Roz looked at her then. “I am. Happy birthday, Kit.”
The soft voice sent a chill through Kit, and unfortunately, she shivered uncontrollably. Roz jumped up and took the afghan off the back of a chair; for a moment, Roz seemed hesitant, which broke Kit’s heart. “I am too. And thanks. The big 5-0,” she said quietly and held out her hand.
“It’s only a number, sweetie.” Roz awkwardly handed it to her. “It’s chilly.”
“Yes,” Kit said, snuggling the knitted blanket. “I think we’ve exhausted the weather topic.”
Roz laughed and took her place back on the hearth.
“I like this place. It suits you.”
“Thanks.” Roz looked around and nodded. “I like it. It took a little work, but it’s turning around. It’s missing a few things, though.” She glanced at Kit. “How’ve you been?”
“Fine. Though this menopause thing is driving me crazy. How about you?” Kit really didn’t want to hear if Roz had someone else in her life.
Roz chuckled. “Menopause…”
“Not that. How’ve you been?”
“I’m good.
Ya
know, it’s taken a while to get a handle on all this.”
Kit nodded but said nothing. There was a horrible silence between them, which made Kit sick to her stomach.
“But you’ve done it. You have your dream.”
Roz cocked her head. “Not all of it.”
Kit’s heart raced as she tucked the blanket under her feet. “What else would you need?”
The silence was horrible. The logs crackling in the fire was the only sound.
“So Dale. She seems like a nice woman.”
“What?” Kit stopped and let out an ugly laugh. “Yes, she is.” Kit didn’t like the abrupt change in conversation, and she definitely didn’t like where it was heading.
“Where did you meet?”
Kit glared at Roz when she saw the grin—exit sentimentality, enter pride.
“I’m sure my mother filled you in on all the gory details. So, please, don’t act like you don’t know.” She stood abruptly. “Either way, it’s none of your business. Good night.”
“Oh, for crying out loud, Kit, wait—”
And as luck would have it, she ran right into the leg of the ornate log coffee table. She let out a shrill cry and reached for her foot.
“Damn it!” she exclaimed. “Couldn’t you find a normal table, for god’s sake? Did it have to come right out of the forest primeval?” She sat on the arm of the couch and rubbed her foot. “And what the hell is it made out of—petrified wood?”
“Knotty pine.”
“You,” Kit glared at the grinning face, “are a fathead!”
“Now that’s my girl.”
“I am not your girl.”
“Oh, yes, you are.”
“And I can’t stand you right now.”
“You can’t stand, period.” Roz grinned and stood. “Can I help?”
“Yes. You can drop dead!”
“Okay.” Roz sat back on the hearth.
“What’s going on?”
“For god’s sake,” Kit mumbled when Dale came bounding into the living room.
“What’s all the ruckus?”
Roz laughed when Helen walked in right behind her. “Your daughter had a fight with my coffee table.”
“And the table won?” Helen looked at Dale. “Hidey ho, Dale.”
“Hi,” Dale said angrily, looking from Kit to Roz. “What’s going on?”
“You asked that already.” Roz stood and dusted off her jeans. “And nothing is going on. I heard a noise and investigated. It was Kit stealing the last of the cobbler.”
“Kit, Kit…” Helen said, shaking her head. “And you didn’t wake me?”
Dale turned to Roz. “Look, I know all about you and Kit.”
“Well then, aren’t you the smart one?” Roz asked, looking at Kit.
“Yeah. I am.”
“I was being facetious.”
“Whatever,” Dale said. “Back off.” Dale then rushed over to Kit and knelt in front of her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I think she broke my coffee table.” Roz pointed to the leg of the table.
“Will you shut up?”
Dale looked stunned at Kit’s anger. She stood quickly when Kit pulled away from her.
“I’m going to bed.” Kit stormed by her mother. “Good night, Mother.”
Dale shot an angry look at Roz, who shrugged. “
G’night
, Mrs. W.” Dale quickly followed Kit.
“Sweet dreams, precious,” Helen said. “You too, Kit.”
Roz laughed when she heard Kit growl lowly as they walked up the stairs.
“Well…” Helen flinched when the bedroom door slammed. “That went well. What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Roz held up her hands. “And what in the hell are you wearing?”
Helen fluffed the lacy lapels of her silky pink robe. “Shush. It’s imported silk.”
“Imported from where?”
“New Jersey, I think. Now I’m hungry. See what you’ve done?”
“Me? Your daughter…”
“Not on an empty stomach. Oh, forget it. Now I’m more tired than hungry. You two will be the death of me. You give me indigestion.”
Roz laughed. “Yeah, but did you see how her eyes sparkled when she told me to shut up?”
“Got the old feeling back, have we?” Helen asked.
“It never left.”
Helen sported a superior look. “That’s fine, darling. And it was very clever of you to anger a romantically compromised, menopausal woman on the eve of her fiftieth birthday, I would add, to the point where she’s upstairs emotionally distraught with her girlfriend. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. You genius, you.”
Chapter 10
After tossing and turning all night, Kit rolled out of bed early on her birthday morning. The clock on the nightstand read six thirty—it felt like midnight. She stretched and yawned while she walked to the bathroom, grateful her foot was not bruised from the attack of the mutant coffee table. Honestly, that thing looked like it would come alive at any moment.
The warm spray of the shower seemed to melt away the anger from the previous night with Roz. She tried to concentrate on the soft tone of their conversation before Roz just had to start smirking about Dale. Okay, deep calming breaths, she thought as she let the warm water wash over her face. This did nothing, for as she took that calm breath, the water went right up her nose.
She coughed and hacked, stepping back from the shower. “Fine,” she finally said, reaching for the soap. “I’ll drown in a shower on my birthday.” She soaped up her body, trying not to think about the weight she had gained around her midsection. What did her mother call it? Oh, yes, menopausal weight gain. It was on all the infomercials on late-night TV where they had a cure for everything. Kit would lie in bed with remote in hand and just flip around the stations late at night when she couldn’t sleep. What amazed and shocked her most was the drug du jour the pharmaceutical companies pushed for arthritis; it was the same drug they peddled for depression. How was that possible? It’ll help ease joint pain, but watch out for the suicidal tendencies and bleeding from the eyes and ears. Oh, and if your lips swell and fall off, stop taking it immediately and see your doctor so he can give you another drug. Perhaps it was because she was getting older, but she never saw so many commercials about drugs and old age, and what in the world was a vaginal mesh? And why are there lawsuits because of them?
Rinsing off, she stepped out of the shower and couldn’t help but look at her image in the mirror on the back of the door. Why do places do this? she wondered. Who, except perhaps a model, wants to look at their own body? But not being able to help herself, Kit did. She really wasn’t in horrible shape—she felt worse than she looked—but menopause was having its way. It certainly didn’t take long, she thought as she ran her fingers over her stomach and hips. She turned sideways and groaned—the breasts were sagging, as well.
“Happy
fiftieth,” she said to her reflection and slipped into her robe.
And while she had no idea what the day would bring—besides the skydiving event—she actually looked forward to the day. She dressed, ran a comb through her hair, picked up her makeup bag, and raised an eyebrow. She put the bag down and grabbed the room key. With a purposeful gait, she walked over to her mother’s bathroom door and knocked several times.
“Mother? Get up!” she called out and opened the door. She laughed out loud when she found her mother sitting up, looking like a disheveled owl.
“What? What’s wrong?” she yelled.
“Nothing. Get out of bed. It’s my birthday, and you’re buying me breakfast.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Helen laughed and put a hand to her heart. “Not if I don’t have a heart attack first.”
“C’mon…”
“Oh, all right. What time is it?” She looked at the clock. “Good heavens, you idiot.”
“Mother…”
Helen groaned and tossed back the covers. “All right. I’ll be down in a few hours.”
Kit laughed. “Fine. And good morning.”
“Good morning, you little fool. Come here first.”
Kit walked over and sat on the side of the bed. Helen smiled and reached for her hand. “Happy birthday, darling,” she said. “How did you sleep after all the commotion?”
“Thanks, Mom. And I slept horribly. Just so you know.”
“Message received. I will be the epitome of motherly love and concern on your day.”
Kit laughed and kissed her cheek. “Don’t overdo it. See you downstairs.”
She was happy with the spring in her step and walked into the dining room. Mark was setting up the salt and pepper shakers.
“Good morning. Am I too early?” Kit asked.
“
G’morning
.” Mark grinned. “No. Aunt Stella’s in the kitchen, and the coffee is on.”
Kit gently sniffed the air. “And what a heavenly aroma that is.”
“Do you need a menu? Aunt Stella will make anything you want.”
“I’ll think about it. I’m waiting for my mother anyway. Coffee right now would be great.”
“Got it.” He disappeared into the kitchen.
In a moment, Stella appeared, carrying a basket of something and heading toward her table.
“Good morning and happy birthday,” Stella said happily.
“Well, thank you. I—”
“Roz mentioned this was one of your favorites,” Stella said, setting the plate of bread in front of her.
“Is this…?”
“Irish brown bread. Yes. Last night, Roz actually called the place where you two stayed and got their recipe.”
“She did?” Kit looked at the warm dark bread in the basket.
“And she told me they weren’t too happy. I guess she didn’t figure the time change. Of course, Roz was laughing when she told me.”
Kit grinned. “Of course.” Her mouth watered when she saw the small glass container of jam. “Homemade jam?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Stella said. “Roz said you had to have butter and jam. So this is mine. Strawberry rhubarb. The rhubarb is from my garden. I’m thinking of bottling it and selling it here. Make a little more money for Roz.”
Kit looked up when she heard the concern in Stella’s voice. “I thought things were going well.”
“Oh, they are. But you know how this business is. And every little bit helps.”
Kit regarded the tie-dyed bandanna-wearing chef. “You like it here, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Stella said with a smile. “I’ve grown fond of Roz. She’s worked hard for this. And she has a big heart, though you didn’t hear that from me. I don’t want to get fired.”
“I highly doubt that will happen. Not the way you cook.”
“That’s sweet of you to say. Now eat that bread while it’s warm. Are you waiting on company for breakfast?”
“Yes. My mother will hopefully join me before lunch.”
“Your mother is a hoot.”
“All right.”
Stella laughed and patted her on the shoulder before she walked away. “You enjoy your day.”
“Thanks again.” She rubbed her hands together and had a thought to wait for her mother.
With that idea gone with the wind, she dug in.
Mark walked up with a carafe of coffee and two cups. “Happy birthday,” he said with a grin.
“Thank you,” Kit said, feeling emotional. God, please, don’t start bawling.
After buttering a slice of warm bread and slathering it with jam, she took one heavenly bite, savoring every moment before taking a drink of coffee. Oh, the memories that flashed through her mind: the autumn morning she and Roz were too cozy to get out from under the down quilt. But the aroma of coffee and bread in the oven was too overwhelming for both of them. But Roz wouldn’t let her out of bed without a kiss, which led to another and another…
“Can we have your mother shot? I’m sure there are hunters all over the place. We can get some of those fake deer antlers.”
Kit looked up with a mouthful when Bess walked up to the table. “Good Lord, you’re awake before noon,” Kit said, wiping her mouth.
Bess grinned sarcastically and kissed her on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Kit.”
“Thanks. Warm bread!” Kit held up a piece as evidence. “It’s marvelous.”
Bess sat opposite Kit and reached for the coffee. “Homemade?”
“Yes, and the jam is yummy.”
“Yummy jam, too?” Bess nearly squealed, which had Kit laughing.
“You made it,” Helen called out. “I thought I would have to place a stick of dynamite in your—”
“Sit, Mother,” Kit said quickly, pulling out a chair for her.
“Thank you and happy birthday again.” Helen kissed the top of her head before sitting. “Ah, what’s this?”
“Wonderful brown bread and…”
“Homemade jam,” Bess said wearily.
Kit playfully glared at Bess while pouring Helen a cup of coffee.
“Your favorite?” Helen asked.
Bess smiled through her yawn. “Is it too early for—?”
“Yes,” both mother and daughter said simultaneously.
“I guess I’ll have more coffee.” Bess held the cup up to Kit.
“Now how did Stella know to make your favorite bread?” Helen asked, pouring the cream in her coffee. She looked up to see Kit smiling as she ate. “Tell me what’s got you grinning like a fool. Did Dale…?”
“No,” Kit said quickly. “It was Roz.”
Helen’s spoon hit the table with a clang. “Roz did what?”
“Apparently, she called the place we stayed in New England and got the recipe. Last night, she was a complete jackass, and now she does this. Damn her.”
Bess’s eyes grew wide as she exchanged glances with Helen, who beamed. “That little inn in Connecticut? Kit, that was nearly eight years ago.”
Kit sighed and bit at her bottom lip. “I know. It was our anniversary, though we couldn’t remember which one.” She gently spread the jam on another piece of bread. “We fell in love with that place. It was cozy and romantic and away from everything.”
Helen listened as Kit’s voice trailed off and she stared into space. Bess drank her coffee in silence as if not wanting to interrupt the memories that Kit was surely revisiting.
“That’s where she got the idea to retire with something like this.” Kit looked around the dining room. “And I suppose I almost screwed that up nicely. At least Roz has this.”
“You can, too,” Helen said.
Kit’s lip quivered as she shook her head. “I was so—”
“Hey! Good morning, birthday girl,” Dale called out.
“Drat.” Helen sighed and hung her head. “That child needs to work on her timing.”
“Mom…” Kit whispered her warning. “Good morning, Dale.”
“Hey, all. You’re up early. I expected you ole fogies to still be in bed. Not you, Mrs. W.” Dale laughed and held up her hands. “Just a little birthday humor.”
“Very little,” Bess said with a sweet smile. “And what brings you down this early? Oh, never mind. Fishing lessons.”
“What gave me away?” Dale asked, holding up the fishing rod. She looked at Kit. “You don’t mind that I’m fishing with Roz?”
Kit looked up. “You were the angry one last night…”
“What last night?” Bess asked, sitting erect.
“Oh, I know. But considering the situation, you were a little pissed, too,” Dale said.
“Pissed at who?” Bess asked again.
“Whom, dear,” Helen said, patting her hand. “And if you’re going to sleep like the dead, I have a feeling you’re going to miss quite a bit from here on out.”
“Dale, it’s up to you. If you want to go fishing with Roz, be my guest.”
“You don’t care?”
“No. I really don’t. It’s my birthday, and for one day, I’m not going to worry or think or care about anything,” Kit said.
“Good for you!” Helen said, raising her coffee cup.
“Well, if you’re okay with it.” Dale shrugged and kissed Kit on the cheek. “Won’t be too long. Then skydiving!”
“Oh, I know,” Kit said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
They sat in silence watching Dale as she exited through the French doors in the dining room.
“Okay, give,” Bess said, leaning in. “What happened last night?”
Kit gave a brief rundown of the cobbler caper as she now called it, which had Helen laughing. “And,” Kit went on, “I told Dale about me and Roz.”
“I knew it,” Bess said triumphantly.
“So that was the reason for the water show at dinner?” Helen asked.
Kit had to laugh. “Yes. Dale was caught off-guard. I’ve agreed not to talk while she’s drinking.”
“So?” Bess asked.
“So what?” Kit shrugged. “I told her. She was surprised and feels a little uncomfortable about being here.”
“So much so, she’s going to stay and go fishing with your wife?”
“Ex-wife,” Kit reminded her.
“A technicality.”
“The truth,” Kit said, drinking her coffee. “So let’s change the topic. It’s my birthday. What plans have you two hatched?”
Helen let out a nervous laugh, which was so unlike her. “I actually didn’t think that far. I was just counting on you and Roz not killing each other. But now that you mention a plan…” She sported an evil grin.
“Oh, God.” Kit hung her head.
“Let’s go watch Roz in action.”
“Let’s not.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t want to see two women vying for your love.”
Bess laughed and shook her head. Kit gave Helen a disturbed look. “Vying for my love? Mother, this is not a 1940s movie.”
“Of course it is. Art imitates life.”
“Are you insane?”
“Are you really asking me?” Helen didn’t wait for an answer. “We need lawn chairs, where is Mark? We need a bell or something…”