Cheesecake and Teardrops by Faye Thompson Page B

batter for both cakes and poured it into the pans, saving just enough batter on the spoon for a double reward. She loved licking the spoon as a little girl. Some things never changed. Once the cakes were in the oven, Heather busied herself cleaning up the kitchen. Her mother taught her to clean up as she went along so there really wasn’t much left to do.
    Next, she dusted and vacuumed the living room and dining room. She also cleaned the bathroom. The aroma of the cakes baking in the oven put a smile on her face, and she was able to finish mopping the kitchen floor. By the time she finished cleaning her mother’s house, it was after 1:00 A.M. Sweating, she eased herself down the basement steps to her apartment, her knees creaking from the household workout. She took a two-minute shower and passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
    Heather woke up Thanksgiving morning to the aroma of roasting in the oven. She made a quick call to Charisma before getting up. She was still upset about the twenty pounds.
    She could have been halfway to a modeling contract. She could kick herself. Charisma assured her that if she did it once, she could do it again. The world wasn’t over. Heather had to laugh at that one. She hung up, comforted. Charisma would make a good mother one day. She got up, put on her robe, and headed upstairs to her mother’s kitchen. Leola was pouring herself a cup of coffee.
    â€œGood morning, sweetie. Want some coffee?” she asked her daughter.
    â€œSure,” she said. “You’re up early.”
    â€œI got up around five and put the turkey in the oven. It feels so good to have the day off.” She handed Heather her coffee then opened the oven door to check on the turkey.
    Heather added milk from the fridge and sweet-ner to her coffee before sitting down at the kitchen table. “Looks like everything’s under control.”
    â€œUh-huh. Let’s see, all I have to do is make the mashed potatoes and gravy and macroni and cheese, and I think that’s it. You’ve been a big help, Heather. I tasted the stuffing. It’s delicious. I couldn’t have done a better job myself, and the cakes and pies look scrumptious.”
    â€œWhere are they anyway?” Heather asked, looking around.
    â€œOh, they’re all on the dining room table.” Heather got up to view her handiwork. Her mouth watered at the sight of the pies and cakes. “Was that one of Grandma’s tablecloths?” she asked as she sat back down.
    â€œUm-hmm.” Leola was peeling white potatoes.
    â€œWow, it’s in great shape. How old is it, anyway?”
    â€œLet’s see. Mama must have bought that when I was in junior high. So we’re talking a good forty years.”
    â€œA family heirloom,” Heather added.
    â€œYou’ll treasure the things your mother’s given you. Especially when she’s gone,” Leola said simply.
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    By three o’clock the guests started arriving at the Greys’ house. Heather’s Uncle Frank and Aunt Joan were the first to arrive, followed by her cousins and their husbands and kids. Bored with the adults, the kids quickly decided to camp out in the den and play video games. When dinner was served, the kids had their own little table while the adults had theirs.
    Heather enjoyed turkey and all the trimmings and cut herself some cake and pie for later. She was headed over to Charisma’s parents’ house and would probably have dessert with them. There was no way she could pass up all these homemade goodies.
    â€œSissy, you got any ice cream to go with this sweet potato pie?” Heather’s Aunt Joan asked her mother.
    â€œI’ll get it,” Heather said, heading for the kitchen. She returned with three gallons of ice cream—butter pecan, chocolate, and good ole vanilla.
    Aunt Joan grabbed an ice cream scoop and dug right in, heaping several scoops on top of her sweet potato