Sinister Sprinkles Read Online Free PDF

“Ordinarily I’d walk home after we eat, but I think I’ll take you up on your offer, if you’re sure. Since we have some time to kill and your mother clearly doesn’t want us anywhere near her kitchen, how about a few games of Scrabble before we eat?”
    “You’re on. Loser does dishes, okay?”
    “Get out your rubber gloves then, because girl, you’re going down,” Grace said.
    I got our Scrabble game and set it up by the living room window where we could watch the snow in one direction, and the fireplace in the other. With the decorated Christmas tree in one corner of the room, it made quite a lovely sight. It was too bad that as we played, I couldn’t manage to completely get rid of the sight of Darlene’s body lying there on the sidewalk in front of the clock. Who had killed her, and why? Was the assault meant for her, or Muriel? I was afraid that before too long, I was going to end up investigating the matter myself, regardless of my original intent to stay out of it.
    Whether I liked it or not, it appeared that Darlene’s death had become a part of my life.
    *   *   *
    Three hours and several games later, Momma finally said, “Come on, ladies. Dinner is served.”
    “One second,” I said as I played my last letter, making a paltry ME out of one of the few open squares with word possibilities. “I’m out.”
    “And so am I,” Grace said as she played three letters, making TREE. “It’s in honor of Christmas,” she added.
    As I totaled the score, Momma said, “If you two aren’t interested in eating, I’ll be glad to start without you.”
    Grace stood and said, “We can figure out who won later. Let’s go.”
    I brought the sheet into the dining room with me, along with a pencil. I wasn’t about to let that get out of my sight. We were tied at a game apiece, and the outcome of this one would determine who washed dishes, and who sat by the fire while the other one worked.
    When I walked into the dining room, I saw that Momma had outdone herself. The good china was laid out on the table, and it positively overflowed with goodies. Besides the lemon chicken, there was her signature garlic mashed potatoes, her green beans with pearl onions, and some of her homemade cranberry sauce.
    “This is almost too pretty to eat,” Grace said as she took it all in.
    “Take a picture if you’d like to reminisce about it later, but I’m digging in,” I said.
    My mother shook her head. “Grace, I’d hoped your good manners would rub off on my daughter, but I’m afraid it’s never going to happen. I should probably just give up that particular dream.”
    “That’s probably for the best,” I said with a smile as I reached for the cranberries. “It puts a lot less pressure on me.”
    “You know the rules. First we say grace; then we eat,” my mother said.
    I looked at my friend and said, “Hi, Grace. Now, could you pass the mashed potatoes?”
    “Suzanne,” my mother said.
    “Sorry.” She had worked hard putting on such a fine feast, and I knew that I was being a little too glib about it, but it was so nice having Grace with us.
    As my mother gave the blessing, I found myself focusing on her prayer. She was right, we were lucky, and sometimes I took it for granted. I needed to hear her sobering words just as much as she needed to say them.
    After she finished, Grace said, “I don’t know which is lovelier, your presentation, or your sentiment.”
    “Thank you, my dear,” my mother said, obviously pleased with the praise.
    “Me, too,” was all I could manage, though I hoped my mother realized her words had struck a chord with me as well.
    “Let’s eat, shall we?” she said brightly, so we did. Dinner was full of pleasant conversation, and we all avoided the one topic that was surely on everyone’s mind. If they were willing to ignore it, then I was, too.
    After dinner, Momma asked, “Now, who has room for dessert?”
    “I couldn’t eat another bite,” I said.
    “I’m