A Palette for Love

by Charlotte Greene

  The New Year was just around the corner, after all.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  I woke to an empty bed and sat up, looking around in confusion. Amelia’s overnight bag was open on my vanity, mostly empty. The light coming in through the window showed that it was already late in the morning, and a glance at the clock confirmed it. I would need to hurry if I wanted to be ready for Aunt Kate’s early dinner. I stood up and stretched, then pulled on my heavier bathrobe. It was finally beginning to seem cold, and Aunt Kate always forgot about turning on the heat. We rarely needed it for many days in a row, even in the winter, so we often went without.

  Jim greeted me in the living room. He was sitting on the couch, reading the newspaper, alone. Confused, I walked into the empty kitchen, wondering where my Aunt Kate and Amelia had gotten off to. I caught a glimpse of movement outside and saw them both sitting on the patio by the fishpond. They were hunched up next to each other, obviously in deep discussion. Not knowing if I should interrupt, I finally decided to take a shower and get ready. If they had a tête-à-tête, maybe Amelia could begin to help Aunt Kate get over her reservations about her.

  I showered quickly, massaging my sore shoulder under the hot water. I spotted several finger-shaped bruises on my forearm, and my mouth was still a little red around the edges from Sara’s hand. When I came out of the bathroom, Amelia and Aunt Kate were still talking outside. Starting to feel a little alarmed, I dressed quickly, wearing long sleeves and putting a little makeup around my mouth to cover the bruises and scrapes. By the time I came into the kitchen, they were both standing by the stove looking at the boiling cabbage. They turned and smiled at me.

  “So sleepyhead finally decided to join us!” Aunt Kate said. She shook her head ruefully. “It’s too late for you to eat breakfast now, sweetie. Dinner is in less than an hour. Maybe you could have some toast to tide you over.” She pointed at the last of the breakfast baguette on the table.

  “I’m fine. I just need some coffee.”

  Aunt Kate tsked but pulled out the little saucepan to heat up the milk while I got the coffee concentrate out of the fridge. As we waited for the milk to warm, Aunt Kate and Amelia chatted about the differences between Creole and Cajun cooking. They seemed relaxed, though not particularly warm. Ever since we started working together, I’d seen that Amelia was very good at finding topics for others to talk about in order to put them at ease, and it appeared she’d found one for Aunt Kate: food. Despite being a native, and a frequent restaurant patron, Amelia was completely ignorant of the differences in the local cuisine. Aunt Kate was more than happy to fill her in, explaining that our ancestry was French Creole, which was how she’d learned all her recipes. Amelia threw me a bemused look a couple of times as Aunt Kate lectured, but I was happy they’d found something to talk about. Kate was making Pompano en Papillote, and she had several loaves of bread baking in the second oven—one for each guest. We would also be eating several different kinds of cabbage salad, snails, oysters, and, in the one nod to American tradition, a spicy, candied sweet-potato casserole with cranberry garnish.

  Meghan and Zach let themselves in, carrying two pies, a couple of grocery bags, and several bottles of wine. “I brought the most important part of the meal!” Meghan called, holding up the booze.

  “Speak for yourself, missy,” Aunt Kate said, sniffing with hurt pride.

  Meghan laughed and put down her bags before giving her a quick hug. “You know I’m joking, Aunt Kate. Your food’s always so delicious.” She turned and rustled around in one of her bags, pulling out some fresh flowers. “These are for you.” Meghan offered them to Kate as a peace token.

  Aunt Kate seemed mollified and took the flowers over to the sink. As she ran them under the water, she turned and pointed at the table. “Meghan, you and Chloé should set the table. Zach, you open the wine. Amelia and I’ll start getting everything together and in the serving bowls once I’m done with the flowers.”

  Twenty minutes later, we were all seated at the table, the food covered to keep it warm. Aunt Kate and Jim sat at opposite ends of the small dining-room table, and Meghan and I sat on one side together, across from Zach and Amelia. The setting was intimate and friendly and boded well for future holidays.

  Aunt Kate held up her wineglass. “We’re not a praying family. My parents stopped going to Mass when my sister and I were little. Still, the tradition in our household has always been to greet Thanksgiving with thankfulness. I am thankful this year for the return of my wayward niece and for the new man in my life. It’s been a wonderful year.”

  “I’m thankful for the man in my life,” Meghan said, looking at Zach. “And I’m also thankful that Chloé’s returned to us.”

  “I’m thankful to be home,” I said, “and I’m thankful for you, Amelia.”

  “And I you,” she said quietly.

  “I’m thankful I took another chance on women,” Jim said, and everyone laughed. “Just so you know, you’re never too old to find love.”

  “I’m thankful to have found such a wonderful, funny, gorgeous woman with such a lovely group of friends,” Zach said. “And I’m thankful for this spread of food, too.”

  We all agreed and dug in.

  *

  After dinner, we decided that a walk would help us feel a little less sloth-like and a little more human, so we went over to the new Crescent Park on the river. The views of downtown were spectacular, and since Amelia had never been here before, it was a treat to see her enjoy it so thoroughly. One positive outcome of Hurricane Katrina was the city’s now-greater emphasis on urban beautification, and this park was part of that process. In the early days of the park, the neighbors had worried it would drive up nearby rents, and with some cause. The park’s development had coincided with an influx of wealthier, younger renters, and almost the entire neighborhood had become more expensive. My aunt took this all in stride, however, as it meant that her property would bring a higher price when she was ready to sell, and crime had significantly decreased in the last couple of years. I’d been dreading the erasure of the rag-tag, rougher edges that had existed in the Bywater before this and could already see that gentrification was well on its way. Still, I appreciated that change could be a positive force, too. This park was an obvious example.

  We climbed over the crescent-shaped bridge and walked along the short river walkway, all of us voicing the hope that it would someday link up with the Riverwalk, making one long pathway along the edge of the Mississippi all the way downtown. The day wasn’t quite cold enough to make us uncomfortable, but we found it a little chillier closer to the river. Aunt Kate began complaining that she hadn’t dressed warmly enough, so we turned around to go back home.

  As we headed back toward our house, Amelia’s phone rang, and she fell back a little to answer it after excusing herself. Meghan took the opportunity to pull me aside, a little apart from Aunt Kate.

  “I’ve been dying to ask you about last night,” she hissed. “I realize you don’t want to talk about it in front of Aunt Kate, so now’s the chance. What happened?”

  Without revealing that Sara was associated with Amelia, I told her the story of my bathroom assault. When I finished, Meghan’s eyes were huge.

  “Jesus! She sounds like a complete nutcase! Do you think there’s a reason she chose you?”

  “Yes, but I can’t get into that right now.”

  Meghan looked puzzled, but as we were near the house again, she didn’t push me to say more. I was hoping I could avoid details altogether, as the idea of identifying Sara was a little daunting, particularly as it seemed Meghan and Amelia were really beginning to get along now.

  I glanced back just in time to see Amelia hang up the phone and thought I saw a guilty look dart across her face when she saw me looking at her. She walked faster to catch up.

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Just work,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

  We all went back inside, Aunt Kate and Meghan excusing themse
lves to get the pie and coffee ready. As we waited, Amelia managed to coax Jim to open up about the construction business, and he talked more than I’d ever heard before. Zach was wrapped up in his smart phone, clearly avoiding an awkward conversation, so I sat nearby, quietly, my mind far away. The phone call Amelia had answered troubled me. She’d seemed strange about it for a few minutes afterward and had clearly been lying to me about whomever she was talking to. I was worried Sara had called her but didn’t know if I could get Amelia to admit it. It disconcerted me that she might be lying to me. She was likely trying to protect me, but I hated the idea of her deception.

  I returned to awareness when Amelia touched my arm. “So how about it?”

  “What?” I asked.

  She laughed. “You must have been thinking hard about something. Jim here has been praising your artwork. I just told him I haven’t seen any of it yet. So how about it? Want to show it to me now?”

  “No!” I said, then blushed at her shocked expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  Amelia was still clearly taken aback. “Why on earth not?”

  Something about showing her my artwork terrified me, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could explain—to either her or me—why that was.

  Embarrassed, I was relieved not to have to explain myself, as Meghan and Aunt Kate reappeared then, carrying plates of pie and a tray of coffee. Amelia looked at me strangely a couple of times as we ate, but I couldn’t think of anything to say to make up for my awkwardness earlier. I squeezed her hand, hoping she would drop the subject, and she eventually did.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  I was surprised to find myself hungry again by the time we started driving over to Bobby’s house for our second dinner of the day. I’d been afraid I wouldn’t be able to eat again for the rest of my life. We’d spent the afternoon playing cards and drinking wine, so I was pretty sleepy, but I was looking forward to experiencing a traditional American Thanksgiving spread. I’d only seen one in movies.

  Amelia insisted that I drive the new car, and I found the ride exhilarating. I hadn’t driven much in the last few years while I was in Europe, and getting behind the wheel of a new, powerful car was an experience I’d never had before. I caught myself speeding several times, and found that when I tried to slow down, because the car’s brakes were incredibly sensitive, I constantly slammed us into our seatbelts. Amelia laughed every time. My poor driving didn’t faze her.

  When we got Uptown, she suggested that I park in her driveway, since Bobby lived just down the street. After a short walk, we were at his house. The smell of turkey and side dishes hit us like a wave as he opened the door, and I handed him the flowers and wine I’d brought after giving him a quick hug.

  “Man oh man, am I happy to see you guys. We’ve all been waiting for you,” he said.

  “I thought you said six,” Amelia said, alarmed, looking at her watch.

  “I did, but we’ve been here smelling that turkey for so long, I think we’re all just getting impatient. Enough chitchat! Come in, come in!”

  Bobby’s house was a warmer, homier version of Amelia’s. Instead of antiques and modern furniture, all of the couches and chairs looked well-used and worn. With three children in the house, it was functional as opposed to decorative, though I noted that the artwork on the walls was impeccable, likely provided by Amelia.

  All of the kids were eating in the kitchen, and I could hear them shouting and laughing in there. An adult’s voice came through as a murmur, apparently trying to convince them to calm down, and I pitied the poor servant put to that task.

  I’d changed clothes and was glad I had when I saw the others. Unlike at my aunt’s house, the Winters family got decked out for Thanksgiving. The men were in suits and the women were wearing dresses. Bobby excused himself to let the staff know the food could be served, and most of the family came over to greet us.

  “I heard you guys had another meal earlier,” Emma said after we’d hugged. “Billy and I did the same. I’m so full of turkey, I could burst.”

  “Chloé’s family is Creole,” Amelia said, “so I was treated to some of the best seafood I’ve ever had.”

  Dean asked me details about traditional Creole food, and I detected in him the same knack Amelia had for being comfortable making small talk with strangers. After a while, we all sat down at the long table, and two women in uniforms appeared, followed by Bobby, each carrying different bowls of food. I got up to help, but Bobby motioned me back in my chair.

  “You’re a guest here,” he said. “Please don’t worry about it.”

  “Bobby has been cooking all day,” Michael explained. “His chef has been tearing her hair out watching him make messes in there, but he wanted to do it all on his own.”

  “Hopefully we won’t all be poisoned,” their dad said, winking at me.

  When the table was finally laden with food and the bowls started making the rounds, I loaded my plate as high as I could. While I’d had turkey before on Christmas once or twice, all of the traditional sides and trimmings were unfamiliar to me, and I wanted to try everything. There was a ton of food, so I didn’t feel guilty about taking as much, or perhaps more, than most of the men. Ingrid and Amelia’s mom both took miniscule portions of everything, a habit that likely explained their angular, almost desiccated looks. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Ingrid was the woman’s daughter, the two of them were so similar. This, I guess, perhaps explained why Dean had found his wife attractive: familiarity. Neither woman had said a single word to me since I arrived, and though I was perhaps projecting, I seemed to sense their clear disapproval. It was going to be tough going to get either one of them to like me. Dean seemed indifferent, which I could deal with more easily than the women’s outright dislike. Luckily the rest of the family was warm and friendly, and as I was sitting next to the siblings and the parent that genuinely seemed to like me, I was comfortable enough despite my nerves.

  As we ate, Bobby had to excuse himself several times to see to the children, a task I noticed that neither Dean nor Ingrid contributed to, despite having children in the mix, too. This was apparently a burden they left to Bobby, and no one but me seemed to notice the discrepancy. As the rest of the family and I shoveled in food, I noticed that his own plate went almost completely untouched, growing cold. He was simply too busy to eat. When he came back in and sat down for a fourth time, I stood up. Everyone at the table looked surprised, but I smiled at Bobby.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and eat now, Bobby?” I suggested. “I’ll go watch the kids for a while.”

  He looked relieved, and as I went toward the kitchen, I saw Ingrid give me a dirty look. That’s what you get for being so rude to your host, I thought, smiling back at her as nicely as I could.

  The kids were actually well-behaved, if a little loud, and were all incredibly curious to see a newcomer in their midst. Being in a collective gave the shyer ones a little courage, and they all tried to talk at me at once when I asked them how they were doing. Two of the older ones remembered me from the anniversary party, but to the others, I was a stranger. I introduced myself to all of them, and they shouted their names back at me, almost in unison. I had so far managed to learn two names and was pretty sure the others would sink in eventually.

  Amelia’s parents relieved me of my duties after about half an hour, and I was pleased to see that my actions had gotten me a little further in her mom’s estimation, as she smiled with something like genuine warmth when they came in. I’d been expecting Amelia to join me the entire time I was in there, but she never came. When I returned to the dining room, I was further surprised to find her gone. Seeing my confused expression, Bobby pointed toward the front parlor, and when I walked in, she was just hanging up her phone. For a brief moment, she looked surprised and guilty again, and my stomach dropped with dread.

  “Who was that?” I asked her.

  She came near and pulled me into her arms, kissing my neck lightly. “
No one important.”

  I pulled back a little. “Are you sure?” I wanted to give her a chance to come clean about the phone calls.

  She looked puzzled but still guilty. “Yes. It was work again. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” My heart sank. I knew she was lying to me again.

  She seemed confused and opened her mouth, as if she were about to explain something, but right then, several of her siblings joined us. I caught what looked like relief pass over her face and had to quell a momentary surge of anger at whatever deception she was covering up. I would get to the bottom of this, I decided, just not now.

  I helped Bobby and his staff clean up, and by the time we were finished, I couldn’t find Amelia anywhere. Emma finally showed me that she was outside on the porch, her phone clutched to her ear. Her face looked stern and anxious, and, the entire time I watched her, she didn’t say a word. I could only surmise that she was listening to someone.

  Sick with anxiety, I excused myself to lie down for a few minutes, and Bobby showed me to his guest room. I paced around for a few minutes, literally wringing my hands, before something occurred to me. I dug around in my purse for my cell phone and then called Lana.

  “I’m such a terrible person for calling on Thanksgiving,” I said.

  “No, no, no problem. Jess had to work today, so we’re having our Thanksgiving on Saturday with her parents. What’s up? You sound freaked.”

  I quickly explained the situation with Sara and with Amelia’s behavior today. Lana whistled long and low. “Doesn’t sound good, padre,” she finally said.

  “No, it doesn’t, does it?”

  “If I were you, I would nip that in the bud, immediately. No deception allowed—even if she thinks it’s for your own good.”

  I felt strangely relieved. I had been half-convinced that I was overreacting all day. “Thanks, Lana. I’m glad to know I’m not crazy.”