Things Remembered (21 page)

Anna stopped folding to look up and smile. “Besides, I'm not making the pies—you are.”

Karla laughed. “I've never made a pie in my life.”

“Then it's time you learned, don't you think?”

“Why? There are wonderful bakeries in this world, and I believe in supporting small businesses.”

“Your mother made pies,” she said pointedly.

Karla bristled at the obvious attempt at manipulation. “What has that got to do with anything?”

“I think it's time you realized why you came. Helping me was a nice gesture, and a convenient excuse, but you're really here because somewhere in the back of your mind you knew it was your last chance to find your mother. If you can't admit why you're here, Karla, you can't succeed.”

“In case you haven't noticed, Anna, my mother's dead. If I want to find her I know where to look—in a cemetery in Tennessee.” She instantly regretted what she'd said. Meanness wasn't a natural part of her, any more than spitefulness. “I'm sorry.”

Karla chanced a look into Anna's eyes, expecting pain or at the least rebuke. Instead she found sorrow and understanding. “I told you the first day I came why I was here and that it was too late for things to change between us. The only thing I can say now that I couldn't then is that I wish it could be different.”

“But it is different,” Anna insisted. “You just haven't recognized it yet.”

“I'll make the pies.”

Anna got up from the chair she'd been sitting in. Thinking she was headed for the kitchen, Karla moved aside to let her pass. Instead she stopped in front of Karla and, with the force of her gaze, made Karla look at her. “I know this is something you don't want to hear, but I'm going to tell you anyway.”

Karla had already lost her temper that morning after promising herself it wouldn't happen again. She would not let it happen twice no matter what the provocation.

“You want to think you are your mother's daughter, that you have her traits, that you love what she did, and find fault where she did. But it isn't true. We are the ones alike, Karla. You and I. I see myself reflected in you, in the way you guard yourself against pain, the way you love, and the depth of your loyalty. If you want to see your mother, look at Heather.”

“How can you say that? You have no idea what my mother was like. You hardly ever saw her after she left here.”

“Do you really think the miles kept us from loving or knowing each other? She was my daughter. We could have gone the rest of our lives hardly seeing each other and the bond would have still been there.”

“I suppose you think I don't have that bond with her because we were only together twelve years.”

“You're wrong. I know you do. That same bond is what ties us together, and it's what keeps us together through all the arguments and anger.” She put her hand on Karla's elbow. “Now come with me. We have pies to bake.”

Two hours later the house was filled with the spicy smells of pumpkin and mincemeat pies. A plate sat in the middle of the kitchen table, a pyramid of piecrust cookies. Made from dough scraps and dusted with sugar and cinnamon before being baked, the cookies were a holiday treat she'd almost forgotten, and she had a hard time staying away from them. Finally, after giving into temptation one too many times, she covered the plate and put it in the cupboard.

Watching her, Anna said, “They're good, aren't they? And so simple.”

Karla looked around the kitchen, at the dishes she still had to wash, at the spilled flour on the floor. “Good, yes. Simple, no.”

“They'll disappear in another generation. You have to make piecrust from scratch to have leftover dough, and hardly anyone does that anymore.”

“Then why did we?”

“Tradition. Just like the meal itself. There are some things it's all right to let go of, others you should do what you can to keep. We had the time to bake pies today, so we did. I know you find it hard to believe, but someday you will pass this on to your daughter.”

“If that's what you're after, you'd be better off teaching these things to Heather. I don't know that I'll ever get married again, let alone have children.”

“You know what a shame I think that would be. But you don't have to
have
children to be a mother. Take Cindy, for instance. I've seen how you are with Cindy. If any little girl ever needed a mother, that one does. She's desperate for a woman's attention.”

“Linda was supposed to be here for Thanksgiving.” She'd run into Mark as he was picking up Cindy from school. He was clearly upset, and she'd offered to listen while he waited for Cindy to gather her jacket and project of the day. “She promised Cindy she'd take her to see Santa the day after, but then she got a call that her group was hired to do some big television thing in L.A. and she left without even telling Cindy good-bye.”

“Promises mean more to some people than others.”

“If they're between adults, it's one thing. But when you make a promise to a child, it should come before anything else.” Karla put water and the freshly ground coffee Jim had sent for them into Anna's ancient pot and wiped the counters while she waited for it to brew.

“How does Mark feel about Linda leaving so abruptly?”

“He was worried how Cindy would take the news, but I don't know how it turned out. The only times I've talked to him in the past week were when he called to cancel our dates.”

“I thought you went to a movie with him Monday night.”

“I was supposed to meet him at the clinic, but he had an emergency and was in surgery when I got there. He left word that he didn't know how long it would take and that I should go on without him. I stopped by Susan's instead. Allen was working, so we decided to rent a couple of movies and made popcorn. After that I came home.”

“That's too bad. When are you going to see him again?”

“I'm not.” Karla prepared Anna's coffee—a slightly mounded teaspoon of sugar and just enough milk to turn the liquid a creamy brown—and gave it to her. “I didn't think there was time between now and Sunday with shuffling Grace around and Heather and Bill being here. And I still have to pack.” Somehow she'd managed to say the words without showing how disappointed she felt.

“I'm going to miss you.” She took a sip of the still-steaming liquid. As if purposely trying to keep the conversation light, she added, “And I'm going to miss your coffee.”

“I'll send you your own supply as soon as I get back to the shop.” She still thought of the shop as hers, but knowing Jim had been living and loving and laughing in her house with his new girlfriend made it hard to think of the house as her home anymore. She should have taken Jim up on his offer to find somewhere else to stay, but at the time, it had been more important to make him think she didn't care.

“What time does Grace's plane get in tomorrow?”

“Twelve-thirty. I have a feeling it's going to be a zoo out there, so I'm going to leave here early enough to find a parking place and wait for her inside the terminal so we don't miss each other.”

“I'm so glad she's coming.” Anna's voice was filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, a child waiting for her parents to go to bed on Christmas Eve. “I was worried she might have already made other plans.”

As much as Karla liked seeing Anna happy, she worried about her heart bearing the extra load of having everyone there. Even if Thanksgiving turned out exactly the way she imagined, all the turmoil that went with a house full of people was bound to be hard on her. She might lie down in the afternoons, but Karla doubted that she would get any real rest.

“Grace did have other plans,” Karla said, “but she changed them to be here with us.”

Grace checked her side and rearview mirrors, then glanced overhead for a helicopter. I-5 was notorious for speed traps, and she couldn't afford a ticket.

“You know, you could slow down a little and you wouldn't have to worry so much about getting caught,” the woman next to her said. “You're driving like you've got someone chasing you.”

“I hate this road,” Grace told her. “It's so damn boring that if I don't drive fast, I fall asleep.”

“Yeah, maybe—but I'd like to get where I'm going, so I'd appreciate it if you took it a little easier.”

Reluctantly, Grace dropped from eighty to seventy. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Holly that the fifty dollars she was paying for the ride didn't cover bitching rights, but knew it would only make things even worse between them. They'd already gone at it about the music Grace listened to, the place she wanted to stop to eat, and what kind of gas to buy. Thank God Holly was only going as far as Tracy. Much farther and Grace would have dumped her alongside the road.

It was Karla's fault Grace found herself stuck in the car with Holly. Her gas credit card was maxed out and she'd been forced to go to the college to look for people who wanted rides north for the holiday. Karla had a knack for picking the worst times to make one of her points, which inevitably left Grace scrambling to work things out. At least, for a small fee, she'd been able to bank the airline ticket for a year. It was comforting knowing she could fly somewhere she really wanted to go, like Mexico or Vail, when she needed a break.

She was so damn tired of being broke all the time.

Too bad there weren't any career opportunities in juggling money; she'd be head of her own company by now.

“You're doing it again,” Holly said.

“Oh, fuck off,” Grace snapped. “This is my car, I'll drive it any way I want.”

“Well, you can damn well do it without me. Anderson's is at the next off ramp, you can drop me there.”

“You don't have to do that.” Grace needed the money she was charging Holly. If she didn't make the minimum payment on her Visa, she couldn't charge that dress she'd found at Nordstrom. “I'll slow down.”

“That's what you've been saying since we left L.A. I want out of this car and I want out now.”

“All right, but you still owe me for the trip.”

“If you think I'm going—”

Grace shot her an angry look. “Pay or jump.”

“I can't believe your family actually wants to see you.” Holly dug for her wallet and threw the money at Grace. “You're such a bitch.”

The words hit home. “Look, I'm sorry. I've been under a lot of pressure lately and you just happened to have the bad luck to be with me when I had to let off a little steam.” She pulled to a stop in the restaurant's parking lot. “If I could, I'd give you back your money, but it's all I have to get home.”

“You need to see someone.” Holly opened the door and reached in the back seat for her suitcase. “You're a real nut case.”

“Thanks, I loved meeting you, too.” She rolled down her window as she drove away. “Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you put on five pounds.”

Chapter

16

K
arla heard the knock on the front door from upstairs in her bedroom. She waited to see if Anna would answer but then remembered she'd decided to take her shower that night instead of in the morning. Grabbing her robe, she shoved her arms in the sleeves as she descended the stairs. Another loud knock, the third, sounded before she was halfway down the hall. “I'm coming, I'm coming,” Karla called with equal impatience.

Before opening the door, she turned on the porch light and looked through the curtain. She should have been surprised to see Grace standing there, but it took a lot anymore to surprise her where Grace was concerned.

“You weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow,” she said as she let Grace in.

“I know, but I couldn't wait.” She dropped her suitcase and gave Karla a warm hug. “So I decided to drive up today.”

“It's good to see you, too.” No one hugged her the way Grace did—all out and with an enthusiasm that left Karla feeling special that she was the recipient of something so wonderful.

“This place never changes.” Grace looked around. “Where's Grandma?”

“In the shower.” Karla was always a little taken aback when she saw Grace after they'd been away from each other for a while. She was so beautiful she was an anomaly. Everyone arrived in the world with the same basic features—hair, eyes, nose, mouth—but with some people they came arranged in a way that left the rest of the world awestruck. She and Heather had the same genetic makeup, but their eyes were either a fraction of an inch too close or too far apart, their lips not as full, their noses not upturned. Whatever the reason, no one turned to look at them when they passed, or singled them out at a party, or hated them on sight for the way they looked the way people did Grace.

“Should she be taking a shower by herself?”