Carpe Diem (16 page)

“Ah, but you let the cook do the dishes the rest of the year.”

“Of course. Who wants to do dishes more than once, maybe twice a year?” He laughs and sets the dish he finished drying on the counter.

“Are you heading to your Moms next?” I ask.

“Nah, she has had a long days with my brother and his kids, they have long been in their turkey comas by now. I don’t need to wake them.”

“You are welcome to stay and have some pie with me… I was just thinking a slice of pumpkin sounds good.”

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome. I should get going.”

“Flynn, you could never overstay your welcome. Stay, have some pie. Unless you think my pie isn’t any good.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

After grabbing wine, pie, and Reddi-wip, we take a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table and begin digging in. Two hours later, we have devoured one whole pumpkin pie, emptied two and a half bottles of wine, and managed to laugh our way through the evening.

“Flynn, let me ask you a question.”

“I told you I’m not gay.” He laughs.

“No, I want to know why you are so good to us?”

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Well, for as long as I can remember you have always been there to help out.”

“I’m a nice guy?”

“You are, but that’s not why.”

“I guess if I knew what you were talking about…”

“For example, why did you make Jack a partner when you started the company?”

“I don’t know what you mean, we started it together.”

“Flynn. Jack put up a thousand dollars and you put up the hundred thousand your dad left you when he passed away.”

“Yeah, so?”

“You made Jack an even partner with you.”

“So.”

“Why?”

“I still don’t know what you mean.”

“The hell you don’t,” I say as I start getting angry.

“What does it matter now?” he asks with irritation.

“Because Jack always brushed it off when I asked and I’ve always wanted to know.”

“It doesn’t really matter does it?”

“It does to me. Why is it such a big secret?”

I’m getting a bit irritated. Why has he turned my simple little question into such a big deal?

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know why, it just does.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Look, I know you two were like brothers, but for you to use
all
your inheritance when we had nothing to offer, well, that is just too kind.”

“Why is that too kind? I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“Because people just don’t do that, even for their best friend.”

“I do, and besides Jack had the landscaping experience that I didn’t.”

“Flynn, he didn’t have that much experience. Quit stalling and just answer my question, or…”

“Or what?” he says with a smug grin.

I’m not sure if it is the wine, the irritation, or his smug little grin he is wearing, but I pick up the can of Reddi-wip sitting next to the empty pie tin and hold it up.

“What do you think you are going to do with that?” he asks, amused.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to know I’m going to cream you,” I say and spray a small dab of Reddi-wip in my mouth.

“You don’t have the guts.”

“Don’t I?”

“I don’t believe you do,” he tells me.

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Nope.”

And with that four-letter word lingering in the air, I give the can one more good shake and begin spraying Flynn’s face, chest, and arms. He sits still and allows me to complete my masterpiece without interruption. Once I have finally run out of Reddi-wip, I sit back to take a look at my work.

“Are you done?” Flynn asks.

“No, I don’t think so… You are missing one little thing,” I respond.

I jump up and run to the kitchen to retrieve the maraschino cherries I have in the refrigerator. The fridge is so full it takes me a few minutes to find the jar hiding in the back. I should have insisted on everyone taking home more leftovers.

As the thought runs through my head, I can feel eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. I turn right in time to see a large white ball of cream flying toward me.

“Ahhhh, you’re gonna pay for that,” I tell him.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replies.

I tried to turn back to the fridge for another can of Reddi-wip, but he was too fast and I only manage to knock it off the shelf onto the floor. Flynn grabs me from behind and smears more Reddi-wip all over my face and hair. I wiggle my way out of his hold and scurry toward the can rolling around. Flynn grabs my legs and pulls me toward him away from the can.

I turn toward him and grab a clump of cream resting on his shoulder and smear it all over his face. That distracts him long enough for me to break free and get to the can of Reddi-wip. I pop the top and shake well. Flynn charges me and I once again begin spraying him with the creamy goodness.

There is so much whipped cream on the floor now that you can’t tell what color the tile is below us. Flynn is able to get a hold of my arms and with his superior strength, he spins my arm to direct the can nozzle at me and then forces my finger to press down, shooting Reddi-wip directly at me. I wiggle and struggle to get free, but my movements cause us to lose our balance and we tumble to the floor. As I lie on the floor, our laughter can probably be heard in China but I don’t care. Reddi-wip is everywhere, my hair, my clothes, up my nose all over the kitchen, but again, I don’t care.

“Are you okay?” Flynn asks me between bellows.

“Yep, couldn’t be better,” I snort back.

I slowly stand up and attempt a victory dance, victory over what I’m not entirely sure, all I know is that I felt like somehow I was the winner of this little battle.

As I attempt to do some sort of leg hop cheerleader type pose as Flynn watches from the floor, I slip again only, this time, I land on top of Flynn.

“Oooooooh,” Flynn blurts as I crash down on him.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry. Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure, perfect,” he says with a gasp of air.

“Are you hurt?” I ask, trying to hold back my laugh.

“Just my pride.”

“Oh you big baby.”

I lean down and kiss him on the cheek. The look in his eyes captures my attention. They are not filled with shock because I have kissed him on the cheeks a thousand times. They are not filled with pain. I have seen this look before, but I’m not sure what it means to him.

Not a word is spoken. We are gazing into each other’s eyes for what seems like forever, but could not have been more than a few seconds. I’m not sure what would have been said as Flynn moved closer and then rolled me over onto my back. His eyes never leave mine. He is leaning in toward me, and I can feel the butterflies fluttering about inside me.

“MOM! What the…”

Flynn and I shoot our attention to the doorway where we see a stone-faced Bryna staring down at us.

“Uh, hi sweetie, how was your night?”

“What the heck is going on in here?”

“Well, um, you see, well, Flynn and I, he started it,” I say, fumbling my words, then laugh and point toward Flynn.

“The hell I did, you liar. You are the one that decided to cover me with Reddi-wip in the living room,” he says, defending himself

“Only because you were being a pain in my ass…” I laugh.

Bryna pulls out her phone and snaps a few pictures then places it back in her pocket.

“I’m going to bed,” Bryna says as she shakes her head and walks away giggling.

Flynn and I turn back to each other for a moment before Flynn stands and helps me to my feet. Not a single word is spoken about what was about to happen and I think I am okay with that.

I
t has been
nearly three weeks since Thanksgiving, meaning our second Christmas without Jack is just around the corner. The snow outside has been falling for hours and the weatherman says there is no end in sight. They also predict that it is going to get even colder over the next few days. The radio station reminds us to stay warm and not to travel outdoors unless absolutely necessary.

With the town all but shut down, there is not much to do to keep me entertained. I’ve already cleaned the house from top to bottom, played a few games on my phone, picked up a few books, but wasn’t in the mood to read, and verified that there is nothing good on the hundred and fifty channels I currently have.

Boredom is the worst thing in the world. You eat food you don’t want, you think about things you have no control over, and then you start getting desperate enough for entertainment that you start counting the hairs on your head. That is until your best friend rings the doorbell and saves you from your own insanity.

“Special delivery for Mrs. Piper Reynolds,” Abby announces.

“Special delivery? I thought you were coming to save me from going crazy.” I laugh.

“Oh I am, but first this is for you.”

I look at the envelope Abby pulls from her pocket and see Jack’s handwriting once again. I give Abby an excited smile and grab the white paper from her.

Piper,

Well, you said you have always wanted to take a recipe and make it your own “secret” family recipe, but never wanted to waste all the food. So since Christmas is coming and there are so many in need, here is your chance to cook up a storm and whatever is actually edible we will bring over to the shelter and give some to those in need of a semi-good meal.

So pull out those cookbooks and start cooking until you find something you love. My taste buds will be waiting and willing to taste test anything you make.

Jack

That man cracks me up. How in the heck am I supposed to do this. Sure, every woman wouldn’t mind having a recipe to pass on to their children. My grandma passed on her homemade egg noodles on to us, my mom passed on her apple pie recipe with homemade crust, but people don’t cook like that anymore. Okay, I’ve never cooked like that.

“So, you ready to get your apron dirty?” Abby asks.

“I have no idea where I would start?” I laugh.

“For starters, you can start by helping me unload the groceries from the truck.”

I look to the driveway and see that Abby is not driving her normal four-door sporty car but Dave’s large pickup truck.

“My God, how much did you buy that you needed the truck?” I ask.

“A lot… the bag boy was not pleased with me. But I have the truck because Dave felt more comfortable with me driving that with all this snow,” she explains.

“Ah, that’s nice of him. Let me get my boots and jacket on.”

Abby nods and walks back to the truck to start unloading. It doesn’t take too long to unload the insane amount of food she purchased. But when you are planning for every possibility I guess it could have been a lot worse.

“Is anyone else coming to help?” I ask.

“Casey was supposed to come, but for some reason today screams let’s go house shopping and she has clients back to back all day.”

“What about Flynn?”

“Yeah, I’m not sure what is going on with him. He called me last week and asked if I wanted to join in and then yesterday he calls and says he won’t be able to make it today but didn’t give a reason.”

Things had been weird since Thanksgiving and neither one of us brought it up. We both seem to think it was nothing worth talking about. I brushed it off to the wine and the holiday loneliness. If Bryna hadn’t interrupted us, I’m sure it would have been more awkward because I’m not sure I would have stopped him. It would have been a mistake for us to go down that road.

Friends should be very careful when crossing that line because once it is crossed, there is no turning back.

“Earth to Piper.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Where were you just then?”

“I, ah, I was wondering about where to begin with all this food you brought.”