Here We Come (Aggie's Inheritance) (185 page)

Aggie says:
That’s good. I think if you couldn’t come, we’d just have to move it to earlier that day and do it at your house.

Milliken says:
Oh, don’t be silly. Now, what’d you get?

Aggie says:
It was fabulous. Everything is perfect for us. I think there were only a couple of things that weren’t something we really liked, but even those were useable.

Milliken says:
Like what?

Aggie says:
Mrs. Dyke gave us her favorite afghan. It’s probably the ugliest one I’ve ever seen, but it’s hers and we’ll use it.

Milliken says:
I was a little afraid Tina would make it a “personal” shower.

Aggie says:
There were a few personal items but not many. I think maybe five? Six?

Milliken says:
That’s good. At the church, it probably means they were nice and tasteful?

Aggie says:
Definitely. I was probably most embarrassed by Libby’s.

Milliken says:
Libby’s? Really?

Aggie says:
Gorgeous bra and panties. Totally tasteful, but Vannie commented about how she loved pretty underwear, but what was the point? No one sees them anyway. Then she “got it” and we were both embarrassed.

Milliken says:
It’s good for her to see a healthy attitude, not only from you, but from his mother. I’m glad she did it, and I suspect it was deliberate.

Aggie says:
Now that you mention it, you’re probably right.

Aggie says:
Anyway, I told Vannie that pretty things make you feel pretty even if you’re the only one who knows you’re wearing them, so we’re going shopping for a nice set for her to wear on Sundays.

Milliken says:
That’s a good idea. It’ll also help her keep perspective on things. Otherwise, she might get silly notions about them.

Aggie says:
Yep.

Milliken says:
And, how did Luke like everything?

Aggie says:
He helped me find homes for it all tonight—except the

half-dozen boxes I put away first.

Milliken says:
Two weeks.

Aggie says:
Can you believe it?

Milliken says:
Are you ready?

Aggie says:
Yes and no. I mean, I could be thrilled if tomorrow was the day, but then when I think about the dozen things Tina asks me every day and how we don’t even have a license yet—yikes!

Milliken says:
Well, it’ll be here before you know it.

Milliken says:
How is Kenzie’s arm?

Aggie says:
Fine. The doctor trips are killing me though. It itches, she wants to scratch, she doesn’t like to protect it in the bath, but I insist, and so on and so on… It’s a nightmare.

Milliken says:
No more ice skating, eh?

Aggie says:
You got that right.

Milliken says:
That was a joke. She needs to go out as soon as she can.

Aggie says:
No way.

Milliken says:
I recommend you reconsider that. You’ll teach her to be fearful and a coward. Those things are worse than a broken bone now and then.

Aggie says:
We’ll see. I can’t think about that now.

Milliken says:
I’m getting the “glower” from your father. He says I have to close the laptop or you’ll suck me in by talking to him. He knows me too well. Well, goodnight. See you soon.

Aggie says:
Ok, then. Goodnight.

Jitters and Spats

Wednesday,
February
25
^th

After
days
of
waking
up
feeling
like
she’d
been
run
over
by
a
train,
Aggie
jumped
out
of
bed
completely
refreshed.
Panicked,
she
glanced
at
the
clock,
terrified
that
it woul
d
read
ten
o’clock
or
something,
but
it
was
only
six-thirty.
Just
to
be
safe,
she
stuffed
her
feet
in
her
slippers
and
hurried
down
the
steps
to
the
second
floor.
The
children
were,
as
the
poem
says,
“nestled
all
snug
in
their
beds,”
although
she
didn’t
expect
any
kind
of
sugarplums
in
their
heads.
It
was
probably
more
like
assignments
and
chore
lists.

She
started
downstairs
but
then
remembered
her
bed.
Perhaps
she
might
get
it
made
before
the
first
child
woke
up.
Wouldn’t
that
be
a
novelty?
The
sheets
looked
extra
rumpled
, prompting her to try
smoothing
the
top
sheet
in
place.
It
was
asking
for
trouble,
but
Aggie
couldn’t resist the idea of changing them
.
She
whipped
the
old
ones
off
and
had
fresh
ones
in
place
in
minutes.

The
room
looked
great.
She
scooped
up
the
sheets
and
a
few
pieces
of
dirty
clothing
that
needed
to
be
washed
and
hurried
downstairs.
Not
a
sound
on
the
second
floor
indicated
that
anyone
had
left
the
world
of
slumber
for
consciousness.
She
stuffed
the
sheets
as
well
as
a
few
towels
in
the
washer,
dumped
soap
in,
shut
the
lid
and
cranked
the
dial.
Hands
in
the
air,
she
cheered
breathily.
“Yes!
Score!
I
did
it!”

The
kitchen
clock
said
it
was
six
forty-five.
How
was
that
possible?
The
kids
would
love
it
if
she
made
pancakes.
Should
she
do
it?
With
pancakes,
they’d
need
eggs
for
balance,
but
those
were
fast.
Vannie
could
do
them
if
time
got
away
from
her.
Griddles
oiled
and
heating,
she
began
mixing
ingredients,
one
eye
on
the
clock
at
all
times.
If
everyone
arrived
before
the
first
one
was
done,
she’d
put
it
in
the
fridge
and
they
could
have
pancakes
for
dinner.