Christmas is one of the most favorite holidays of the year, it isn't just a season, it's a feeling. After having an ill relationship with their parents while growing up; Hazel and Les returned home to save their parents from their state of dilemma. While in the midst of showing what they're capable of to their egocentric parents, Hazel and Les stumble into each other's life. Will the encounter be the beginning of something new? Will they be able to accomplish their goals? Come on let's find out.
View MoreLes Morrison stepped out of the shower, towel dried, and pulled on a pair of beat-up sweatpants and his first Tulane sweatshirt, which was full of holes. He stared at himself in the mirror and burst out laughing. He'd shaved his beard yesterday and he now looked like himself. He slicked his curly hair back but knew the moment it dried it would be all over the place.Maybe I'll get a buzz cut over the weekend. If I can find the time. He thought to himself.Max, who dogged him everywhere he went, barked sharply. "Yeah, yeah I know, Max, we're running behind schedule, but Pop threw me for a loop when he said he wouldn't be here for dinner. Did you see him, Max? He looked like a dandy, all duded up and wearing aftershave! I think he's stepping out on me is what I think." He said. Les tousled his hair, he was stupid talking to a dog but unlike other dogs, Max was smart, "Okay, let's see what Mrs. Davis left us for dinner."Everything, including Max's dinner, would be in the warming oven.
The scent emanating from the kitchen were tantalizing as Hazel set the table. She was so tired she could hardly see straight. Cooking can be stressful sometimes. All that aside, she'd put in a productive day's work along with her mother who was chirping about this and that, finally winding down with, "I'm sorry, Hazel, but I'm going out to dinner. I guess I should have told you sooner but my head is just swarming with thoughts of all we've done today.""You should have told me earlier before setting the table."Hazel looked at her mother, the flowered dishes on the table, the lit candle, and wine glasses just waiting for her to pop the cork. She sniffed at the aromas coming from the stove, the mixed salad, and the baby carrots in the warming bowl.That was when she really noticed her mother. She smelled good. Her hair was pulled back from her face into a bun. She wore no makeup other than a little lipstick. She wore flannel slacks with a bright yellow sweater and low-heeled shoes. She
Laura tossed and turned all night long. She couldn't sleep, she checked the wall clock and it was already three-thirty. In the end, she finally gave up, showered, smeared on some moisturizer and dressed in clothes she dug out of a trunk and smelled like mothballs. Old clothes, the kind she used to wear before she became a social gadabout. Corduroy trousers, wool socks, a heavy sweater, and a pair of ankle-high boots she had to clean before she could put them on. She couldn't remember why she'd saved all these clothe. Maybe she knew one day she would need them. "I guess this is that day," She muttered to herself as she made her way downstairs to the kitchen where she would have made coffee if she had any. But since she didn't, she reached for her daughter's heavy jacket and left the house. Laura couldn't remember the last time she'd been out and at four-thirty in the morning.What would Steven Morrison think or say when he opened the door to see her standing there? Well, she would find
It was ten o'clock when Hazel pushed her chair away from the table. Earlier on, she'd kicked off her shoes, and now she put her hand on her toes. She contemplated her pedicure as she tried to make sense out of her resentful mother. She hated being hard-nosed or hardhead, but she really didn't have many options under the circumstances. She eyed her mother now and as she tried to think of something nice to say. The words evaded her."Are we done here, Hazel?""For now, Mom. Do you at least understand the huge problem you created? I don't know if I can pull this off. I just wish you had consulted me when you first came up with the idea. It's a wonderful idea and if it works it will benefit the Society group." There, that was something nice. uhh"But you don't think it will, is that it? Say it, Hazel. Say what you're thinking. Let's get it all out in the open before we go any further.""I don't think we should go there, Mom. Let's go to bed, sleep on it and tackle it again in the morning.
Steve Morrison sat on the top of the newly repaired steps that leads to the front porch. There was a time when the porch held pumpkins with lit candles, cornstalks, and a few scarecrows. So long ago. Now the porch was empty, just the way he was empty.It was full dark now, a breeze swept over the tops of the trees to make them sway. an hour past supper. The only thing he'd eaten today was a frozen Tv dinner at lunchtime that tasted like cardboard because the pot of stew he'd made wasn't done cooking. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. He sighed.Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a line of headlights heading out of the fields. The drivers of the vehicles wouldn't see him sitting on the steps because of the big blue spruce at the corner of the house blocked the view of the porch. Les's workers, that's how he thought of them, wouldn't be grazing about anyway. They'd be in a hurry to get home to their families and a warm supper. Les would be the last one to come down the
Hazel jerked awake when Roxie stirred in her lap, not too long, she heard the front door slammed shut. Her mother was home.Groggy from the short nap, Hazel combed her hair with her fingers, tightened the velvet bow at the back of her head, she readied herself for what she knew would probably be an unpleasant encounter with her mother.She waited at the top of the steps to see if her mother would call her name, acknowledge her presence in some way, such a silly thought.Evidently, Roxie was of the same opinion as she hissed and snarled, cycling Hazel’s ankle. She bent down to pick up the unhappy cat and descended the steps calling her mother’s name twice before she entered the kitchen. Laura Myers waved airily as she babbled into the cell phone clutched between her ear and her cheek. She was opening a container of yogurt and sprinkling something that looked like gravel over the top. A bottle of mineral water was clutched under one arm as she jugg
Exhausted from his long trip, Max was excited to get out and run. Les pulled up to the entrance of Morrison Farms and looked at the battered sign swinging on one hinge from the craved post. A lump rose in his throat but there was nothing a few nails, new hinges, and some paint couldn't do and it would be good as new.Les ascend a steep hill lined with ancient fragrant evergreens, their massive trunks covered in dark green moss. At the top of the hill, Les parked his BMW Z4 and got out of the car to look down at the valley full of every kind of evergreen imaginable. He saw the Douglas first, the blue spruce field, and to the left of that, the long-needle Scotch pine.He shaded his eyes from the sun to see the fields of Balsam fir, Concolor Fir, Fraser firs and Norway Spruce. To the left as far as the eye could see were the fields of white pines and the white firs. The Austrian pines looked glorious, and three fields of Virginia pines seemed to go on to infinity. When he was done admir
Some hours later with four stops along the way, Hazel pulled into her mother’s driveway on Little Pumpkin Lane. She leaned back and closed her eyes for a moment. She was home. The house where she’d grown up. A house of secrets. The house where she’d been lonely, sad, angry. So many memories.Now why had she expected her mother to be standing in the doorway waiting to greet her. Because that’s what mothers usually did when an offspring returned home for a visit."A stupid expectation." Hazel decided.She climbed out of the car, leaving Roxie in the car while she unloaded her bags and boxes of things she’d brought with her.After Four trips into her house, Hazel carried Roxie into the house and settled her and her litter box in the laundry room. She called her mother’s name, knowing there would be no answer. Her mother was a busy lady who did good deeds twenty-four/seven.All she did was sleep at the house. It was like that while she was growing up, too. Laura Myers for the most part h
A week later and three thousand miles away in Boston, Massachusetts. Thirty-two-old career woman Hazel Myers was on an emotional high as she packed her already overfilled briefcase.She looked around her cluttered office and sighed. One of these days she really had to give some thought to organizing things. She knew it wasn’t going to happen because she loved living in clutter, and loved that she could instantly lay her hands on anything she needed. Hazel Myers owned a public relations firm in the heart of Dorchester. It employed three full-time staff members; two part-time moms whose schedules she worked around, a receptionist-slash-secretary, and a battle-scarred, bushy-haired orange tabby cat named Roxie she had found half-starved in the basement of the building she rented. If anyone reigned supreme at the Myers Agency, it was Roxie who greeted clients by purring and strutting her stuff. He had quickly become the favorite of the residents. Roxie knew how to turn on the computer,
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