Chapter 4 - TWO TO FOUR
Christmas Day arrived crystal clear and bitterly cold, the temperature dropping to five below zero.
At 5:00 AM, Nan was already at the fire hall stove, basting eight giant turkeys and stirring forty pounds of mashed potatoes. By 1:00 PM, the big electric roasters were glowing, the gravy was simmering in massive pots, and the auxiliary ladies had taken over the serving line.
"Go on, Nan," Clara said, gently taking the wooden spoon from Nan’s hand. "You have an appointment at two."
Nan looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. 1:15 PM.
She walked to the bathroom, washed her hands, combed her snow-white hair, and changed into her best green wool sweater and navy skirt. In her tote bag, she packed four small, carefully wrapped parcels.
At exactly 1:55 PM, Nan pulled her Buick up the paved driveway of Greg and Amber’s modern two-story suburban home in the upscale Estates development twenty-six miles away.
The house was spotlessly decorated—a perfectly symmetrical wreath on the front door, sleek white LED lights framing the roofline, and not a single stray patch of snow on the shoveled walkway.
Nan walked up the steps carrying her tote bag. She took a deep breath, checked her watch—it was 1:59 PM—and waited until the digital readout hit 2:00 PM before pressing the doorbell.
The door swung open almost immediately. Greg stood there, wearing a fresh ironed button-down shirt and a nervous smile.
"Mom! You're right on time," Greg said, pulling her into a quick hug.
"I promised I would be, honey," Nan smiled, stepping inside.
Her empty hands were immediately obvious. No foil-wrapped pans of lefse, no glass Pyrex dishes of hot casserole, no wicker baskets of fresh rolls. Amber stood in the archway of the sparkling white kitchen, holding a clipboard with a meal schedule clipped to it.
Amber’s eyes scanned Nan from head to toe, dropping down to Nan’s hands. Seeing nothing but her purse and a small gift bag, Amber’s stiff shoulders visibly relaxed.
"Nan, welcome," Amber said, her voice smooth and practiced. "Happy Christmas. Come in, put your coat in the closet."
"Thank you, Amber. Merry Christmas," Nan said evenly.
The living room was quiet. A minimalist, white-themed Christmas tree stood in the corner, with precisely six neatly wrapped boxes beneath it.
"Grandma!"
Nine-year-old Ella and seven-year-old Sam came running down the stairs. Ella was wearing a neat tartan dress, and Sam had his hair combed flat.
Nan kneeled down, her face lighting up with genuine joy as she hugged her grandchildren tightly. "Look at you two! Growing so tall!"
"Did you bring the lefse, Grandma?" Sam whispered into her ear.
Nan felt a sharp tug in her chest. She looked up and caught Amber’s sharp gaze from the kitchen counter.
"Not today, sweetie," Nan whispered back softly. "Today is your mama's special turn to make everything."
Nan reached into her tote bag and handed each child a package. For Ella, a hardcover classic copy of The Secret Garden ($14.99). For Sam, a wooden model airplane kit ($18.50).
Ella opened hers and smiled politely, but her eyes kept searching Nan’s face, sensing the strange, quiet air in the room.
The next hour and forty-five minutes moved with the agonizing precision of a ticking clock. Dinner was served at 2:30 PM sharp: sliced catered turkey breast, plain steamed asparagus, and store-bought rolls served on white porcelain plates. The conversation was polite, surface-level, and stilted. Amber managed the pacing like a restaurant manager, clearing plates the moment a fork was set down.
At 3:55 PM, Nan set her cloth napkin on the table.
She stood up.
May you like
Greg looked up, startled. "Mom? Where are you going? We haven't even done coffee."
"It’s four o'clock, Greg," Nan said with a warm, gentle smile. "And I know how important it is to keep to the schedule."
