Chapter 3
The next morning, Lacy forced herself to rise early, just as she had forced herself to avoid the television and popcorn the night before.
There was more baking to be done with her grandparents and her parents were due to arrive later, but that wasn’t why Lacy rolled out of bed. She was committed to pulling herself out of her funk. For her that meant keeping on schedule. Over the last few months since she quit her job in Manhattan, she had become too used to keeping odd hours. She had read somewhere that circadian rhythms could affect mood, and she was beginning to believe it was true because she felt a little blue.
She actually felt worse than she had yesterday before Tosh called, before he took her to the police banquet, before she saw Jason and his stupid date. But that couldn’t be the cause of her distress. No, her ill humor was because of too many late nights; it had to be. She and Jason were friends, and that was all.
Baking with her grandparents worked to pull her out of her bad mood. They always had fun together, and she was glad she was over the age where she had to pretend to prefer to be somewhere else. She had always loved her grandma, always enjoyed spending time with her, but it hadn’t exactly been the popular thing to own up to when she was in high school. Now it didn’t matter if it was cool or not and, better still, Lacy didn’t care. Adulthood came with a lot of responsibility, but also a lot of freedom.
They were laughing hard over something her grandmother said, deep laughter--the kind where they were bent over at the waist and leaning on the counter--when her parents let themselves in.
“Well, this is a scene,” her mother said and it was as if she sucked all the fun from the atmosphere, leaving an awkwardness vacuum in its wake.
“Frannie,” Lucinda said, bustling forward to give her daughter a hug. Lacy moved protectively closer to her grandfather before remembering she was also supposed to hug her mother and father. Reluctantly, she pulled away from Mr. Middleton and went forward to give her mother a hug. Her father set down his bags and opened his arms, and she released her mother to hug her father.
“Hi, little girl,” he whispered.
“Hi, Dad,” she replied, giving him an extra tight squeeze. On the rare occasions when her grandmother hadn’t been able to provide solace, Lacy had turned to her father, finding him a ready and willing comfort for her troubles.
“Mr. Middleton,” Fran said coolly, looking her former principal up and down and probably trying to figure out why he was wearing an apron.
Lucinda stood looking confusedly back and forth between her boyfriend and daughter. At last she left Fran and went to stand beside Mr. Middleton. “Frannie, you remember Mr. Middleton. Tom,” she added, sounding nervous.
It was an odd moment of twisted reality where the parent was now the kid, nervously introducing her new love interest to a child who had somehow become the one who bestowed or withheld approval. And if the look on her face was any indication, Lacy’s mother was definitely of a mind to withhold approval.
“Mr. Middleton,” she said coolly, though she politely extended her hand.
“Frannie,” Mr. Middleton said, shaking the proffered hand.
“I prefer Fran,” she replied, quickly withdrawing her hand.
“Since when?” Lacy interjected. “Mom, everyone calls you Frannie.”
“Well I prefer Fran, Lacy,” her mother said irritably, shooting her a look. “And when is the last time you had your hair trimmed? I can see the split ends from here. Have you been running? Because I know the way your grandmother feeds you, and if you don’t watch it, you’re going to balloon up. You know weight problems run in our family.” She shot a significant look at Lucinda who was pleasantly plump.
It was all Lacy could do to bite her tongue. Her biological grandmother had been thinner than any of them. “I think Grandma is perfect,” Lacy announced. “And I like my body just fine, too, Mom.”
“It’s fine for now, but you’re young and your metabolism is high. Wait until you get to be my age and it’s a daily fight to keep the weight off.”
With Lacy’s penchant for sweets, it was already a daily battle to keep the weight off, but she saw no reason to inform her mother of that. Her mother really was a loving and good person most of the time. But she was high strung with an incredibly low tolerance for stress. Any change in location or routine brought out her worst side. In retrospect, her grandparents were probably wise not to tell her about the adoption. Though Lacy deeply wanted for her grandfather to know his only daughter and vice versa, she didn’t believe her mother could handle the information.
Holidays had been notoriously bad in their household, which was why Lacy’s grandmother handled most of them. Nothing seemed to be able to ruffle Lucinda Craig, though her daughter was about to test that hypothesis. Lacy could tell her grandma felt caught in the middle, not wanting to upset her only child while not wanting to hurt her boyfriend--and her daughter’s biological father.
“How’s the weather down in Florida, Clint?” Mr. Middleton asked her father, wisely diverting the conversation to the most rational member of Lacy’s family.
“It’s hot, Mr. Middleton,” her father said.
“Please call me Tom. High school was over a long time ago.”
“Tom,” her father repeated with a dutiful smile and Lacy knew that his acceptance of the situation was now complete. If only her mother would cooperate so easily. She was so chilly and unbending Lacy felt the need to grab a sweater just from being near her.
“Everything is on track for the holiday party, Mom,” Lacy added cheerfully, hoping to divert her mother’s attention to a more pleasant topic. “We’ve all been baking like mad. Grandma has been a task mistress.” She smiled at her grandmother to let her know she was teasing. Her grandmother smiled back, but it looked strained.
“The holiday party,” her mother repeated. “I was hoping that could just be for family this year.”
“But we always invite friends,” Lacy protested, probably sounding like a pouting child. Her mother often had that effect on her.
“What’s wrong with just family this year?” her mother asked, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Mr. Middleton.
“Mom, Gladys and her grandson have already been invited. They don’t have anywhere else to go. And I was hoping to invite Tosh.”
“Tosh?” her mother’s ears perked up as they always did when Lacy mentioned a man. “Who is Tosh?”
“He’s our pastor,” Lucinda volunteered. “A remarkably nice young man, and so handsome.”
“Really?” Frannie said, shooting Lacy a speculative look. “Why haven’t you mentioned him before, Lacy?”
“I thought I had. But we’re just friends, Mom. You’ll like him.”
“I can’t wait to meet him,” her mother replied. “But I don’t know why you insist on calling everyone a friend. What’s wrong with dating?”
“I’m just not ready to date yet, Mom,” Lacy said, uncomfortable with the shift in conversation.
“Why not?” her mother asked.
“Because that area is still a little painful for me,” Lacy said, her eyes darting around the room, looking for escape.
“Why?” Frannie pressed.
Lacy sighed. Obviously she was going to have to spell it out. “Because my fiancé dumped me for my sister and it hurt. A lot.”
Her mother waved her hand dismissively in front of her face. “Oh. That. But, honey, obviously you can see that Robert and Riley are better suited for each other. You and Robert were never a good fit.”
Lacy’s jaw dropped. Was her mother really excusing what had happened?
“Can I help you carry your bags, Clint?” Mr. Middleton interjected. He stepped forward and laid a hand on Lacy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Lacy wasn’t sure if it was meant to be comforting or restraining, but she decided to take it as a comforting gesture.
“Sure,” Clint replied, relieved to have found an escape from the tension in the house. “Want to come, Fr
annie? You left your purse in the car.”
“All right,” Frannie replied, turning to follow her husband back outside.
Lacy remained standing in the center of the kitchen, feeling shell-shocked and overwhelmed. “Grandma, do we have any ice cream?” she asked.
“No, but I think I’m going to make a prune cake,” her grandmother replied, sounding as dismal as Lacy felt.
“I’ll help,” Lacy volunteered. “It’ll go faster.” With that, they turned their attention to culinary matters and began assembling the cake.
Christmas Steele, A Lacy Steele Mystery Bonus Novella Page 3