Making Spirits Bright by Fern Michaels, Rosalind Noonan, Nan Rossiter, Elizabeth Bass Page A
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eyes. “Well, if we don’t make cookies, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know about you,” Laura told her, “but I’m going to sit here and make up new critter names. What do y’all think of ‘Vomitia’?”
In contrast to Laura’s words, a whole room had already been transformed with primary colors and stuffed with toys and furniture, awaiting the baby’s arrival. The critter was probably going to be the most spoiled baby that ever crawled the earth.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to put up a Christmas tree?” Erica asked.
“The stench of cedar right now would send me straight to the hospital,” Laura said.
Of course. Erica glowered at the carpet. “I wish Heidi had decided to come and visit.”
Laura shot to an upright position. “That would be all I need right now.”
“I like her,” Erica said.
Heidi had been her mom and Laura’s stepsister when they were teenagers, and now Erica thought of her almost as another aunt. She hadn’t visited the farm since the summer Erica’s mother had died, but she wrote Erica all the time, and had sent her a really cool outfit on her birthday, and had invited Erica to come visit her in New York someday. New York City!
Well, Brooklyn.
Erica had hoped that Heidi would visit the farm for the holidays. But Heidi had said she was too busy with work this year. She’d just opened some kind of café.
A café was better than a baby.
“Why don’t you go ride Milkshake?” her aunt suggested, evidently eager to change the subject from Heidi, who she’d only ever learned to tolerate.
“It’s cold and drizzly.”
“Wimp,” Laura muttered, closing her eyes.
Webb guffawed. “You’re one to talk. One little baby’s sent you into a monthlong swoon.”
“Every time you make a crack, that’s one more onerous chore in your future,” Laura warned as she rearranged the rag over her eyes. “I’ve already got you slated for eighteen months of diaper duty and Disney on Ice. ”
It was going to be another awful Christmas, Erica realized with despair. Maybe not as bad as last year—nothing could be that bad again. Last year was the first Christmas after her mother had died, and though everyone had tried to be nice to her, nothing could make up for the fact that the person she’d most wanted to celebrate with wasn’t there. And, of course, her half sister, Angelica, had been born two weeks early, on Christmas Eve, which Leanne and Erica’s dad had insisted was a Christmas miracle.
But this year was shaping up to be a strong runner-up for worst Christmas ever. Laura was completely consumed with her morning sickness, and Webb was all about catering to Laura. At home, with Leanne and Erica’s dad, the house was gearing up for Angelica’s first birthday and baby’s second Christmas. Erica’s thirteenth Christmas didn’t seem to be on anyone’s radar. No one was thinking of her. It was as if she’d disappeared from her own life.
In the old days, her mother had always been there to make her feel special. But now she felt so lost—an unformed blob of a person—and there was no one she could turn to. None of her friends at school understood. She’d never felt so alone.
She unfolded her legs and stood up. “I should go home.”
“You just got here.” Laura sat up a little. “Wait—you want to watch a movie or something? Maybe we can stream Mommie Dearest off Netflix. I could bone up on my parenting skills.”
“No thanks.” Watching movies was something they used to do with her mom. It wasn’t quite the same with only Laura and Webb. Nothing was the same. The big house, which once had been so full of life, felt empty. In her mom’s day, there had been paying guests living in the rooms, and music playing in the kitchen from sunup to bedtime. Now sometimes it was hard to believe that her mother had ever been here at all. Then Erica would catch a glimpse of something to remind her—her mom’s boom box in the kitchen, an afghan, the muffin pan that
“I don’t know about you,” Laura told her, “but I’m going to sit here and make up new critter names. What do y’all think of ‘Vomitia’?”
In contrast to Laura’s words, a whole room had already been transformed with primary colors and stuffed with toys and furniture, awaiting the baby’s arrival. The critter was probably going to be the most spoiled baby that ever crawled the earth.
“Wouldn’t it be fun to put up a Christmas tree?” Erica asked.
“The stench of cedar right now would send me straight to the hospital,” Laura said.
Of course. Erica glowered at the carpet. “I wish Heidi had decided to come and visit.”
Laura shot to an upright position. “That would be all I need right now.”
“I like her,” Erica said.
Heidi had been her mom and Laura’s stepsister when they were teenagers, and now Erica thought of her almost as another aunt. She hadn’t visited the farm since the summer Erica’s mother had died, but she wrote Erica all the time, and had sent her a really cool outfit on her birthday, and had invited Erica to come visit her in New York someday. New York City!
Well, Brooklyn.
Erica had hoped that Heidi would visit the farm for the holidays. But Heidi had said she was too busy with work this year. She’d just opened some kind of café.
A café was better than a baby.
“Why don’t you go ride Milkshake?” her aunt suggested, evidently eager to change the subject from Heidi, who she’d only ever learned to tolerate.
“It’s cold and drizzly.”
“Wimp,” Laura muttered, closing her eyes.
Webb guffawed. “You’re one to talk. One little baby’s sent you into a monthlong swoon.”
“Every time you make a crack, that’s one more onerous chore in your future,” Laura warned as she rearranged the rag over her eyes. “I’ve already got you slated for eighteen months of diaper duty and Disney on Ice. ”
It was going to be another awful Christmas, Erica realized with despair. Maybe not as bad as last year—nothing could be that bad again. Last year was the first Christmas after her mother had died, and though everyone had tried to be nice to her, nothing could make up for the fact that the person she’d most wanted to celebrate with wasn’t there. And, of course, her half sister, Angelica, had been born two weeks early, on Christmas Eve, which Leanne and Erica’s dad had insisted was a Christmas miracle.
But this year was shaping up to be a strong runner-up for worst Christmas ever. Laura was completely consumed with her morning sickness, and Webb was all about catering to Laura. At home, with Leanne and Erica’s dad, the house was gearing up for Angelica’s first birthday and baby’s second Christmas. Erica’s thirteenth Christmas didn’t seem to be on anyone’s radar. No one was thinking of her. It was as if she’d disappeared from her own life.
In the old days, her mother had always been there to make her feel special. But now she felt so lost—an unformed blob of a person—and there was no one she could turn to. None of her friends at school understood. She’d never felt so alone.
She unfolded her legs and stood up. “I should go home.”
“You just got here.” Laura sat up a little. “Wait—you want to watch a movie or something? Maybe we can stream Mommie Dearest off Netflix. I could bone up on my parenting skills.”
“No thanks.” Watching movies was something they used to do with her mom. It wasn’t quite the same with only Laura and Webb. Nothing was the same. The big house, which once had been so full of life, felt empty. In her mom’s day, there had been paying guests living in the rooms, and music playing in the kitchen from sunup to bedtime. Now sometimes it was hard to believe that her mother had ever been here at all. Then Erica would catch a glimpse of something to remind her—her mom’s boom box in the kitchen, an afghan, the muffin pan that
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