Macaroni

Chapter 8

Bebe was baking. Snickerdoodles, fudge, brownies, peanut butter cookies with Hershey kisses, chocolate chip cookies, white chocolate mint bark with peppermint candy cane topping, pumpkin bread, poppy seed bread, lemon cookies. She kept baking, even when it seemed like overkill.

The kids were enjoying the baking. Bebe let them help whenever she could, and let them package the goodies into Christmas tins lined with wax paper, layer upon layer. Crystal, two, liked the peanut butter chocolate cookies, and Bebe found a pile under the couch in the family room where she was hiding them. This was a problem, because of the dog, and Bebe had a long talk with the kids about things dogs couldn't eat, and food that we have to keep off of the floor. She doubted that Crystal understood, but she felt better, like a good mom, for having done it.

And even though she didn't want to, Bebe called her mother, once a week, on Sunday nights. They talked about the kids. They talked about the antique store. They talked about the baking. LouAnne emailed Bebe recipes that they'd made together when Bebe was a kid. LouAnne wished for more. Bebe was stretching to have that much of a relationship with her mother.

Scottie was enjoying the baking. Ever since Emma died, his Christmases had been less festive, and he didn't get as many treats as he liked. They set up a little tip jar with Christmas treats and hot coffee on the counter and they split it 50/50, because Scottie made sure the coffee stayed hot. The bark was a big hit.

Bebe told Scottie one morning about her mother, and he listened attentively. Bebe had felt like a tomboy in her mother perfect feminine shadow her whole life. LouAnne could have won awards for home decorating, and cooking, and baking, and being a good wife. And here Bebe was doing everything she could to get away from being a mother and she certainly wasn't a wife with Casey halfway around the world, so she figured her mother was judging her incessantly.

"Stop it!" Scottie said. "You're overthinking all of this. Just stop it right now. None of this is necessary. You are making all of this up in your head. You're a neurotic mess. This is so unnecessary. Just stop it already!" Bebe tried to convince him that her worries were justified, to no avail. Scottie just continued telling her that she was wrong (in the kindest way he possibly could).