Sisterchicks on the Loose Read Online Free Page A

your passport and a response from my aunt.”
    “You still haven’t heard from her?”
    “No, but I will.”
    “Did you try to call her?”
    “I only have an address. She’ll write back to me. You’ll see.”
    The whole trip seemed to be hanging by a thread. I didn’t want to be the one to snip that thread.
    On Tuesday afternoon, the second week of February, Gramma Gloria stopped by with a laundry basket full of craft materials.
    “You’re the organized one in this family, Sharondear.” She planted herself at the kitchen table and unloaded bits of red ribbon, Styrofoam balls, a glue gun, and white streamers. “Youcan help me figure out how to make centerpieces for the senior citizen sweetheart banquet at church on Saturday.”
    “What are you planning to make with all this?”
    “Well, I don’t know, Sharondear. That’s why I brought it over. We need nine of whatever we decide on. We have fifty people coming this year. Isn’t that sad? I remember when we used to have a hundred come each year. One hundred and twelve one year. Do you have any coffee?”
    “For the centerpieces?”
    “No, Sharondear. For me. I’d like a cup of coffee, if that isn’t too much trouble. I don’t want to be a bother.”
    This was one of my mother-in-law’s favorite lines. After delivering it she would wait with one ear cocked until someone, usually me, replied, “It’s no bother at all.”
    I had enough coffee left from that morning for about two cups, but the coffeemaker automatically had turned itself off. I knew the coffee would be lukewarm by now, so I poured a cup for Gloria and headed for the microwave.
    “Don’t heat it up, Sharondear. I burned my tongue the last time you did that.”
    “It’s going to be cold.”
    “That’s okay.” Gloria took the cup from me. She had a sip and made a face. “Why, this is ice-cold!”
    “I know. Here, let me heat it up for you.”
    “Oh no, Sharondear. That’s okay. I can sip it this way. I thought perhaps you had a fresh pot going, that’s all.” With a grimace she pressed her lips to the cup’s edge.
    Jeff and I had spent not hours, not days, but the equivalent of weeks discussing the challenges we have with his mother. Gloria always has been opinionated and subtly manipulative. No one in town would disagree with that.
    During the last few years, however, her comments had become more critical and biting. Everyone in our family hid a little scar somewhere that was inflicted by the jagged incisors her words now carried. There seemed to be no way of working through a disagreement with her once her mind was set. She was more determined than ever and at the same time disturbingly illogical in her thinking. We adjusted our relationship with her to what Jeff called “honor without homage.”
    While I’m sure this approach is a healthy way to deal with a person like Gloria, I usually diverged to the path of least resistance, and the cold coffee situation was one of those cases. I quietly started a fresh pot. Gloria protested, but I said, “It’s no bother.”
    Satisfied, she fiddled with the ribbons. “It’s Tuesday, isn’t it? If you need me to, I can take Kaylee to dance lessons after she gets home from school.”
    “Kaylee doesn’t take dance anymore.”
    Gloria looked up and blinked behind her large glasses. “She doesn’t? You didn’t tell me that. When did she drop out?”
    “She didn’t ‘drop out.’ ” I clenched my teeth. “Kaylee chose to stop taking dance lessons a while ago.”
    “Well, no one tells me these things!”
    More than two years had passed since Kaylee’s last dance class. Of course Gloria had been told; the gaps in her memory were widening. I knew I should roll through the conversation rather than stop to correct her, so I excused myself, saying I needed to put the clothes in the dryer.
    As I slipped out of the kitchen, I remembered years ago when Penny tried to correct Gloria when she used the phrase, “This is a fine kettle of