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Chapter 8
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Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 9
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
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 10
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
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 11
Les 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.
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 1
Las Vegas, Nevada.October, 2005.Two Months Before Christmas. It was a beautiful four-story building with clean lines, glittering plate glass and a golden rod colored door. A tribute to the architect who designed the building. An elongated piece of driftwood attached to the right of the door was painted the same shade of goldenrod. The plaque said it was the Karen Morrison Building. The overall opinion of visitors and clients was that the building was remarkable, which was the architect and owner’s objective.The young sun was just creeping over the horizon when Les Morrison tucked his briefcase between his knees, searching his jean pocket for the key that would unlock his pride and joy, the Karen Morrison Building which was named after his mother. Opening the door, Les turned off the alarm and flicked the light switch on. Taking a moment, he looked around the lobby of the building he’d designed when he was still in college studying architecture. He was a lucky man for he’d been ab
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 2
Les decided he didn’t feel like making coffee. He was too nervous around this couple from his hometown. He knew in his gut they were going to tell him something he didn’t want to hear. He pressed a button on the console. “Hillary, will you bring some coffee into my office? I have two guests. Also bring some mini-baked donuts." Les whirled around, hoping to delay the moment they were going to tell him why they were really here. “So, what do you think of Nevada?” Les asked. The couple both looked at each other, “Oh, we're old and don’t fit in here, that’s for sure,” Joyce said with a smile on her face. “We’re simple people, Lester. You know all those fancy cars, they cost more than our farm and bring in more money for over ten years. The stores with all those expensive clothes where they hide the price tags made my eyes water. Our son-in-law took us to Ro-day-o Drive. That was the name of it, wasn’t it, Alfred? Hollywood people,” she sniffed. Having enough already, "Will you just p
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 3
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,
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 4
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
Homecoming tales; Beauty in imperfection Chapter 5
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
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