Carry the Light by Delia Parr

friends.
    Invigorated by the fellowship she had found at church, as well as the friendship she was developing with Ellie Waters, Charlene carried her treats through the living and dining rooms with her light burning just a little brighter than it had been when she’d left the house this morning.
    At the doorway to the kitchen, she ground to a halt. The laughter died instantly, and the three women seated at the chrome table stared back at her with their mouths agape and their eyes wide with guilt.
    Annie Parker, her aunt’s best friend, was sitting at one end of the table. With her sugar-white hair and her white polyester pantsuit, she looked like a plump marshmallow, and she was just as sweet. She blinked at Charlene with the innocence one might expect from someone eight years old, not eighty-one.
    At the other end of the table, Madeline O’Rourke, at eighty, was the youngest of the trio. Her bright orange fingernails flashed as she toyed with her necklace of chartreuse beads. Her cheeks were covered with rouge, so Charlene couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not.
    Aunt Dorothy, on the other hand, was most definitely blushing, which added color to her pale features, but didn’t hide her weariness.
    The main focus of Charlene’s interest, however, sat square in the middle of the table. Next to an open Bible, there was a large white cardboard box, with a logo identical to the one on the three boxes she was carrying.
    â€œI didn’t hear you come in,” Aunt Dorothy said. She dabbed at her mouth with a tissue, but it was too late. Charlene had seen the raspberry jelly in the corner of her lips.
    Madeline laughed nervously. “When the three of us get together, we’re just a bunch of chatterboxes. We probably wouldn’t hear Big Foot stomping through the house.”
    â€œThat’s not true, you know,” Aunt Dorothy countered.
    Madeline pouted. “Well, I wouldn’t hear it, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t, either, but I meant Big Foot. It’s not real. It’s a myth or a legend or something.”
    Annie blinked her eyes hard, and frowned. “Are you sure, Dorothy? I always believed it was real, and I always felt sorry for the poor creature.”
    â€œWhat’s real are those scrumptious donuts on the table,” Charlene said as she walked closer and peeked into the box. “Let’s see what’s left. A couple of chocolate iced spinners, a cream donut and three sugar twists, but not a single jelly donut anywhere,” she teased.
    Aunt Dorothy tilted her chin up. “I only had one jelly donut.”
    Annie patted her stomach. “I had one, too. Then Dorothy and I ate a cream one. They’re really my favorite. I would have enjoyed a second cream donut, but Madeline ate it.”
    Madeline huffed. “You had two and a half donuts, not two. I thought the vanilla iced spinners were your favorite. That’s why I split one with you and gave you the half with the most cinnamon. If I’d known the cream one was your favorite, I wouldn’t have eaten it.”
    Aunt Dorothy frowned at Madeline. “You know Annie’s favorite donut is whatever she happens to fancy from one day to the next.”
    â€œUnlike a certain someone I know who hasn’t changed her mind about her favorite since she started working,” Annie said. “And we had to stop on every payday on our way home from work to buy one, too. I think they were only a nickel back then.”
    â€œTwists and fritters cost a nickel. The jelly donut I’ve always favored cost seven cents,” Aunt Dorothy corrected her.
    â€œWell, they all cost ninety cents apiece now,” Madeline whined. “How fair is that for seniors like us who have to live on a fixed income?”
    â€œNot fair at all,” Charlene agreed, “which is why I’m going to wrap these up so you can take them home with you.” She set