Diva 04 _ Diva Cooks a Goose, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

little tougher since I didn’t know her well. A perfectionist like Laci, she stood in front of Laci’s pantry, scowling. “What an odd assortment of staples you have. If you recall, I offered to buy you a freezer. If you’d taken me up on it, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
    I munched on the sweet bun, laden with heady cinnamon and nutmeg, and eyed Marnie, wondering what would prompt her to abandon the kitchen. A little bit taller than Laci, Marnie kept in good shape. She didn’t have a runner’s leanness, though. I would bet on aerobics, yoga, or one of those women-only exercise clubs. She wore a sweater vest featuring polar bears with three-dimensional mufflers embellished with tiny bells. I wasn’t quite sure about the connection to the holiday, but one thing seemed clear to me—she’d worn it for Jen.
    “George told me Jen had a great Christmas morning,” I said. “I’m so glad. But she seemed very flushed and wet from the snow when I came in. You don’t think she’s coming down with anything, do you?”
    Alarm registered on Laci’s face, and for a moment, I thought my plan to clear the kitchen might have backfired. Fortunately, Marnie proved to be the devoted grandmother I’d suspected. “I’ll check on her, sweetheart.”
    I grinned at Laci as her mother rushed from the kitchen.
    Laci scowled at me. “Is Jen really sick?”
    I shook my head. “No. But the cold air has pinked her cheeks nicely. Just enough to distract a doting grandmother. So what can I do to help?”
    Laci looked around her nearly vacant kitchen and then stared at me, speechless. For a moment, I thought she might burst into tears. “I have to learn how to do that.” She blinked hard before moving into boss mode.
    By the time our mothers reappeared, potatoes cooked in a huge pot, the remaining meat had been picked off the goose, a green bean casserole baked in the oven, and a pot of red cabbage with heavenly roasted chestnuts cooked on the stove. I tossed chopped celery into a pan of onions sizzling in bacon grease for a quick dressing. Laci peeled sweet potatoes, but I could see her anxiety ratchet again when the moms reappeared.
    I quickly sent them off with instructions to take a head count, set the table, be sure we had enough chairs, pour wine, and pass hors d’oeuvres that I’d whipped together out of cream cheese and smoked salmon. Shawna continued to wave her fingers in the air, careful not to smudge her fresh manicure in case a diamond ring would slide onto one of her fingers.
    When we sat down to eat, Forrest Chadwick and his son, Edward, joined us. His wife, Ginger, who had been a no-show, waltzed in at the last minute like an auburn June Cleaver, complete with pearls and frilly apron, carrying a hot roast turkey.
    With great fanfare, she placed it in front of her husband to carve. “It’s not an expensive, organic, heirloom turkey, like the one I drove four hours round-trip to buy directly from the farm, but at least it’s a turkey.”
    Amid the oohs and aahs, I couldn’t help wondering whose turkey we were about to eat. How had she managed to find a thawed turkey on Christmas Day? No one else seemed perturbed, and the mood around the table turned decidedly festive.

    We staggered away from our dinner, filled to capacity, in agreement to wait an hour before dessert. Ginger took her leftover turkey home, and Laci permitted our mothers to clean up the kitchen, while she served eggnog and hot chocolate. In honor of the holiday, I blew off all concerns about calories and sipped at eggnog from one of Laci’s Spode old-fashioned glasses adorned with a Christmas tree. I stood next to my brother, George, my back to the large window overlooking the street. The packages had been opened, bows and bright wrapping paper still littered the carpet, and a cozy fire crackled. Jen and Edward sat on the floor playing Clue, and Daisy sprawled next to them.
    It couldn’t have been a more tranquil family scene. Forrest lounged next