Chapter 3
Gillian made it only as far as the bottom of the stairs before her tearful mother, lubricated now with whatever her current poison was, accosted her and made her drop the bag, grabbing her arm and pulling her through the living room into the rec room.
Rita got to the bottom of the stairs in time to see her uncle in one of the leather chairs turning away from the TV before her aunt pulled the door closed. She walked quietly over and put her ear to the door, but they were talking low and the TV was on. She couldn't hear anything clearly, so after a while she gave up.
She wandered into the kitchen, where Brian and Alice were looking over some of the recipes her aunt had out.
"We should get this started pretty soon if it's going to be ready," Alice said.
Brian's ears were half-down. "My mother would kill me if I tried to cook Christmas dinner for her."
"Oh, I've cooked with Peggy before," Alice said. "I'm sure she won't mind. Right, Rita?"
"Sure," she said. Brian gave her a strange look, her ears lowered still further. "Really, it's fine. It's not like she's that great a cook."
"This doesn't look too hard." Alice ignored Rita while Brian looked shocked at her bold statement. "Just a lot of veggies to chop."
"I'll help with the chopping," Rita said. "I'm hopeless at anything else."
"You're good at chopping, though," Brian said. "You're a great kitchen assistant."
"I remember," Alice said thoughtfully, "the time we made a cherry pie. Remember? Eighth grade?"
"Yeah, we got in trouble because we didn't clean up the kitchen," Rita said.
"I thought the apple pie we made for Thanksgiving turned out really well," Brian said, handing Rita a bell pepper and a knife. "Here, chop this like you would for a salad."
"Actually," Alice said, handing Rita a larger knife, "I find this works better for peppers."
Rita held both knives and then put the larger one down. "This one will be fine, thanks."
For whatever reason, Alice's eyebrows went down and Brian wagged his tail to brush Rita's leg. Rita focused on chopping the pepper, because if she didn't it was likely that she'd nick one of her pads.
"Let's see," Alice said. "The only thing besides the veggies for the stuffing is measuring out the herbs. Brian, you can do that. I'll cook the sweet potatoes."
"I was going to start the dough for the mocho," he said. "It has to sit for a couple hours."
"I've made bread with my mother for years," Alice said. "I can make the dough and then you can do whatever you need to do. The sweet potatoes need to stew for a while."
"I'll start on the dough while you do that," Brian said. His voice had gotten colder.
"Fine," Alice said. She busied herself with pots and pans, making enough of a clattering noise that further conversation ceased.
Brian got out a bowl himself, measured flour into it, then investigated the cupboards until he found some yeast. He added salt and sugar and then dropped the water and yeast into the middle of the bowl. Alice got her pots settled just as he began stirring and walked behind him over to the fridge. As she walked behind Rita, her paw slid along her rump.
"Ow!" Rita dropped the knife and brought her wounded finger to her muzzle, licking the pad.
"Oh, is it bad?" Brian grabbed her paw and inspected the wound.
Alice was there in a moment, too, pushing her muzzle in to see it. "Let me look," she said. "Oh, that's not too bad. Press a paper towel over it and it'll stop bleeding in a minute."
Brian shot a sharp look at her and brought the paw to his muzzle. "Let me make it better." He licked the pad.
Alice stared at him and then gave a small "hmph" and walked over to the fridge. She found the sweet potatoes and started chopping.
Brian smiled and nuzzled Rita's paw. "There. Be careful, now!"
"Thanks," Rita said, finishing the second pepper. "What else needs chopping?"
"How about some celery?" Alice handed her a stalk and pressed up to her side. "Just small pieces, you know. Like this." She took the knife, rubbed against her, and chopped twice off the end of the stalk.
"You know how to do celery, hon," Brian said, coming up on Rita's other side with the bowl in his arms.
"Okay," Alice said, "looks like you're set here, then." And Rita felt the odd sensation of both her hand and Brian's paw against Rita's legs.
"You know, really, I need a little more space to chop properly," Rita said, and with glares at each other, both lovers moved away from her. She shook her head, her fur almost prickling from the tense silence in the kitchen. She finished the first and second stalks of celery, by which time Brian had covered his dough with a towel and moved on to some other recipe. Alice took time out from cooking the sweet potatoes to make little suggestions as Brian went through the preparations for the next dish.
"It's so nice to be back here for Christmas," Alice said. "Just like the old days. I really miss that, don't you, Rita?"
"Uh . . ." Rita was working on her third celery stalk. She paused so she wouldn't cut herself again. "Actually, I kind of like Vancouver."
"Yeah," Brian chimed in. "In our neighborhood, they put up wreaths and lanterns all along the street and they light up all the trees. It's really pretty. And on Christmas Eve, we used to have carolers come up and down the street."
"And why aren't you at home this year?" Alice said.
"Because I'm here. With Rita." Brian put his arm around Rita's waist.
"That's sweet," Alice said again, turning back to her cooking.
Rita didn't usually mind being fought over, but this was getting annoying, not to mention the fact that she had to chop vegetables while listening to it. Her eye caught a flash of motion past the kitchen door, and she saw her cousin running upstairs. "Oh," she said, relieved, "there goes Gillian. I'd better go after her." Before either Brian or Alice could object, she'd scooted out of the kitchen and up the stairs, where she walked right past Gillian's open door and into her room. She opened a book and stayed there for the next two hours until her aunt called everyone down for dinner.
