During day before Thanksgiving preparations, Auggie receives a phone call that changes the guest list as well as some of his weekend plans. Who could it possibly be? Read on to find out who will be the extra guest at dinner and to see how Amanda gets ready for a family holicay party. Thank you so much for the encouraging comments and the alerts. I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying the story.
Guess I'm supposed to remind you that I have no association with Covert Affairs ... just a love for its stories and characters.
Chapter 7 – Holiday Preparations
Amanda had made her amazing cinnamon rolls for breakfast along with a platter of breakfast meats and scrambled eggs. "Wow, Amanda," Annie said as she and Auggie walked into the breakfast room, "Breakfast looks wonderful. Fresh cinnamon rolls?"
"I made them yesterday and let them rise overnight. They're one of Auggie's favorites, so I try to make them as often as I can when he's home. The last couple of times you were here, Annie, I didn't have the extra time with the party and then the wedding," Amanda explained as she walked behind them and patted Auggie on the back.
"You get the Mother of the Year Award," Auggie said as he slid into his chair at the table and greeted his dad who had just rustled the morning paper he was reading to let Auggie know he was at the table.
Annie opened the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of orange juice to place on the table. She then took the coffee pot out of the coffeemaker to pour them some coffee and refresh Fred's cup. As the foursome ate breakfast, Amanda detailed what they needed to accomplish during the day. Auggie leaned toward Annie, "Eat up, because you're going to need all of your strength today," he teased.
Amanda looked up from her notes on the clipboard. "What's that, Auggie?"
"Nothing, Mom," Auggie said. "I was just telling Annie to eat all of her breakfast so she'd have plenty of energy today for your clipboard full of jobs."
Fred lowered his paper and looked across the table at Auggie and smiled before he made eye contact with Annie and smiled again. "Amanda, now they both have your number," he teased.
Auggie got up from the table to retrieve the coffee pot. He refreshed his own cup and asked Annie if she wanted more. Annie scooted her cup across the table to meet Auggie's fingers, and he refilled it. Standing with the pot, he smiled and asked, "Mom, Dad … either of you need a refill?"
Amanda said, "Thank you, but no. I drank a pot by myself before everyone came down."
Auggie laughed. "Everyone drink up. We're have to keep up with Mom today."
"I need a refill, Auggie, since you have the pot," Fred said. Auggie reached across the table to where his dad was sitting, and Fred, taking a cue from Annie, slid the cup to meet his son's fingers. Again, Auggie poured the coffee and pushed it back toward his father and took the pot back to the coffeemaker.
"Thank you, Son," Fred said in the most matter of fact tone he could muster.
"You're welcome, Dad."
Amanda and Fred smiled at each other and then at Annie.
Amanda picked up her clipboard. "OK, Fred, I need you and Auggie to get the tubs of Christmas ornaments off the shelves, dusted and ready to bring upstairs after dinner tomorrow. Clean dust rags are in the rag hamper in the garage."
"I'll make sure all the sections of the tree still light up," Fred added.
As they all worked to clean up the breakfast mess, Amanda told Annie that Cynthia planned to arrive about ten o'clock. "Do you mind peeling and slicing the apples for the pies before she comes?" Amanda asked.
Amanda pulled a huge bag of Jonathan apples from the pantry and laid it on the island. "How many pies are we making?" Annie asked wide-eyed.
"Probably four … more Andersons like apple pie over pumpkin, so I've been making four apple pies, two pumpkin and two pecan," Amanda explained as she pulled a bag of lemons out of the fruit drawer. She disappeared again into the pantry, climbed up on the step stool and retrieved the biggest stainless steel mixing bowl Annie had ever seen. Her eyes grew even wider.
"This bowl should be large enough," Amanda said as she sat it on the Island. "Slice a few apples and squeeze some lemon juice over them so they don't discolor. Don't worry about too much juice. There'll be plenty of sugar to sweeten up the fruit."
Auggie was leaning against the counter across the room sipping on a third cup of coffee while trying to suppress a grin. Amanda left the room mentioning she had another little job for Auggie.
Annie started tearing open the bag and putting apples in the colander to wash. She took a paring knife out of the knife block and started peeling an apple. Auggie finished his coffee and put the cup in dishwasher. Walking up behind Annie, he wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "Welcome to the Andersons … being allowed in Amanda's kitchen the day before a holiday meal is a great honor."
"I know, Auggie. And one of the reasons we wanted to come is to help. But, do you know how big that bowl is?"
"Yes. I know exactly which bowl she pulled out. I've had to peel enough potatoes to fill that sucker," he laughed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the garage to get the rags to dust the storage boxes."
"Do you know where the hamper is?" Annie asked.
"I know where it has always been. I'll leave the door open, so you can hear me if it's been moved and I need help finding it." Annie realized after he'd left the kitchen that he didn't have his cane with him.
Amanda came back into the kitchen carrying a stack of about half a dozen CDs and several sheets of paper with Braille writing. "Where's Auggie?"
"Getting the dust cloths."
Auggie sauntered back into the kitchen carrying a handful of worn towels. "There you are," Amanda said. "When you finish helping your dad get the tree and ornaments organized, will you make me a Thanksgiving playlist for tomorrow?"
"Mmmm. Uh. Sure, Mom … I guess."
"Great. Here are the CDs," Amanda said thrusting the stack of jewel boxes into Auggie's right hand, "and here's my list of songs I want off of them," she said as she brushed the Braille notes against his left hand.
Auggie moved to the breakfast table to set down the CDs and laid down the Braille sheets. His fingers scanned the top sheet where he found the title of a CD and a list of the songs his mother wanted downloaded. "Mom, how did you do this?"
"Does it make sense? Can you read it ok?" she asked.
"It's perfect, but you didn't answer my question. How did you do this?" Auggie asked impatiently.
"Well, what good is having access to some money if you don't spend it on things you need and want," she said. "I did a little investigation and found some software for my computer that converts text to Grade Two Braille and prints it out on an embosser. I figured your Dad and I can both use it. There are times when it's necessary to send you things on paper. And, I'm telling you that slate and stylus can get tedious."
"I'm a little overwhelmed by the thought," Auggie said emotionally and then pulling himself together added, "but I'm not so sure about this jobs list thing you've got going on here."
Amanda laughed. "You grew up with a jobs list. You know you're used to it."
Auggie took the CDs and his mother's instructions upstairs to put on his desk. He also noticed that she'd labeled the CD boxes. His mother, the little dynamo who searched for specialists all over the world when he was first injured, finally was accepting what the doctors had consistently told them: The vision loss is permanent.
As his fingers worked their way across the Braille text, Auggie realized that his mother not only had accepted his vision loss, she had embraced it and decided she would do everything she could to integrate herself into his world. He kept reading … out of curiosity about his mother's selection of music. When he came to the end of the last page, he smiled when he read the last two sentences. "Thanks, Auggie. I love you."
He whispered aloud in the empty room, "Thanks, Mom. I love you, too."
Before returning downstairs, Auggie picked up his cane, not knowing what he and his dad would encounter in the basement storage areas. When he went to get the dust cloths off the kitchen table, he could hear Annie peeling apples at the island and his mother working at the farther end of the island. "Did Dad go on downstairs?"
"I think so." Looking up, she said, "Oh good, you brought your cane down with you. Be careful down there."
Walking down the stairs to the basement rooms and storage area, Auggie tried to visualize the area. He had not been in the lowest level of his childhood home since before the deployed to Iraq. Lots of details can go missing in someone's memory over four years, he thought. But he was armed with an handful of dust cloths, and he would conquer the storage area like he had everything else.
At the bottom of the steps, he stopped and called out for his dad who answered from the back of the area in the storage room where Christmas was stored. "Is the path fairly clear to the storage room," Auggie called.
"It's pretty clear. If you have your cane, you'll be OK," Fred answered.
Auggie made his way to the storage area. "Hey, Dad. Where do we begin?" he asked waving the dust cloths.
"Yeah, your mom is afraid an extra spec of dirt is going to find its way into the living room."
"Show me what boxes we need and I'll lift them off the shelves," Auggie said. Fred showed Auggie the location of the boxes. Auggie wiped each box down with a clean cloth. When he picked up the first box, he asked his Dad to show him where they needed to be stacked.
They worked through the morning downstairs to get organized for the after-dinner tree trimming party. In an effort to prevent Amanda from loading them up with additional chores, they stretched the job to last about twice as long as necessary. Working alongside his father and having time to visit casually with him, Auggie asked why his mother had invested in the new software and Braille embosser.
"Well, your mom wants to be able to send you letters that don't need to be read to you, and she doesn't trust the privacy of email." Fred chuckled, "And she gets frustrated with writing Braille manually … I think it's hard on her hands, too."
"I know you can afford it, but I feel kind of bad you spent a chunk of change on the Braille embosser."
"Auggie, for quite a while after you came home from Iraq, both your mother and I were in a state of denial. We thought there would be a change in the diagnosis and some doctor somewhere would find a way to restore your sight," Fred shared with Auggie.
"Dad, I wish you'd been right," Auggie said placing his hand on his dad's shoulder.
"You seemed to accept the finality of the situation almost immediately, and I tried to follow your lead. But it took your mother a long time to accept what happened to you. If she can't find a cure for you, she's going to be sure that we have everything we need to make your life easier and that you have everything you need in your personal life. We know the Agency has set up things for your office. Is there anything you need at home?" Fred concluded the explanation.
"I've got it covered, Dad." Auggie said. "Besides, there's my trust fund, if I need something that I can't cover on my salary."
"Auggie, we don't want you dipping into your trust fund too often. We want you to save that for retirement or something unexpected."
"Dad, right now there's nothing I need materially or … or …" he hesitated. "I guess I'm trying to say that life's pretty good right now."
Fred smiled, thinking he understood what his son was saying. He realized one of the important things (or people) that completed Auggie's life was upstairs in the kitchen peeling a mountain of apples. "If you help me get the Christmas tree pieces out of the storage carton, you can go work on your mom's music project and I'll test the lights," Fred said as he opened the carton.
Auggie reappeared in the kitchen with the dirty cleaning cloths and interrupted the chatter between Annie, Amanda and Cynthia to ask where to stash them. "Just lay them on the washer. I'll have some others to add to a wash load later," Amanda called to him as he made his way down the hall to the laundry room.
When he returned, Auggie listened at the door for a few seconds to figure out where the three cooks were working. Annie was still peeling and slicing apples, his mom was rolling out dough on the other side of the island and Cynthia was stirring something on the stove. He took a deep breath and determined she was making the broth for the beginning of the giblet gravy.
Auggie went to the main sink, washed his hands and on his way to the fridge for a bottle of water, deftly swiped a handful of apple slices from Annie's bowl. "Stop that," she said with a swat. "You're going to slow down my progress."
"Will not!" he said. "Besides, you have enough apples there for a small army."
"That's what we're feeding tomorrow," Amanda said. "How's my music coming?"
"Dad and I just finished downstairs. I'm going to work on your music right now," Auggie said as he left the room.
Auggie began to copy Amanda's CDs onto his laptop and to create the playlist for her iTouch. Although he had all the latest technology at his fingertips, Auggie had to work slowly through the process. During the process, he realized his mother had not once since he arrived home raced to him to do anything for him or "rescue" him from something she though was dangerous. Amanda finally was able to focus on Auggie's capabilities rather than the things that were particularly difficult for him.
Auggie was finishing up with the selections from the third CD when his phone vibrated on the desk. "Anderson," he answered.
"How's Glencoe treating you this trip," Joan asked.
"Great. How's Langley treating you today," Auggie retorted.
"We have a little situation going on here, that I may need your help with over the weekend or early next week."
Auggie groaned a little, thinking he didn't want to disappoint Amanda by leaving early.
"I know … you're on vacation, but this could be serious. Have you read any of the articles about the leak of information?" his boss asked.
"Annie and I read them last night … well … Annie read them and I listened," he chuckled.
"Good, so you know we have a rogue officer in the Midwest blabbing information to a journalist. There's also a tie-in to the theft of some of our technical research. We believe we know who the officer is, but we need confirmation. We need for you and Annie to do a little reconnaissance down in St. Louis on Sunday night and Monday. Do you think that's doable?"
"As long as it doesn't interfere with Mom's Thanksgiving dinner party and tree trimming party, we can manage it," Auggie said. "But, Joan, Annie and I are on vacation. We have my personal laptop and our encrypted cell phones. We're not set up for surveillance or reconnaissance. I have just what I need to create a playlist for Mom's background dinner music, and that's pushing it."
Joan laughed. "We're working on the technology you need. I'll fly out with it tomorrow."
"You are going to bring it in person?"
"That's not a problem is it?"
"No, but you're flying out on Thanksgiving. You'll miss the holiday with Arthur," Auggie said.
"Arthur understands," Joan reassured Auggie. "We'll have some quiet time over the weekend."
Shifting gears from friend to officer, Auggie asked, "What's the plan?"
"I need to bring you a couple of miniature surveillance microphones and the corresponding listening equipment. I want you and Annie to be in St. Louis on Sunday evening to slip into a dry cleaners and plant the microphones in the waistbands of two pair of trousers that our suspect dropped off on Friday. He more than likely will pick them up Monday morning or on his way home Monday evening," Joan explained.
"What time will you be in Chicago on Thursday," Auggie asked.
Picking up the print-out of her schedule, Joan said, "Looks like my plane lands about one thirty. Why?"
"We're having dinner about six, and everyone arrives between two and three to spend the afternoon. You can bring the equipment here and have dinner with us."
"That's very kind, Auggie, but I don't want to intrude on your family."
"Mom will have my hide if you don't stay. I've been in enough trouble for having missed some holidays. We have a few hours to come up with a cover story that will satisfy the family. Do you need for Annie to meet you at O'Hare? We have a rental car."
Joan thought before responding. "Why don't I take a cab to your home? That way we have more options for the cover story. Your mom and dad and one brother know you and Annie are with the Agency. Is that correct?"
"That's right. Aaron knows, but his wife Cynthia and everyone else thinks I work for the State Department and Annie works for the Smithsonian. You ride herd on the technology, and I'll go sort some things out with Annie and my mom."
Before hanging up, Joan asked, "Has it been a good visit, so far?"
"Yep. We're both pitching in to get ready for tomorrow. Annie's peeling apples for the pies," he said with amusement in his voice. "There are some days I really miss the vision thing."
"I know you do, Auggie." Joan said softly.
In Chapter 8, Amanda makes plans to include her extra guest at dinner and helps Annie and Auggie protect everyone's cover story. We'll see how the boss lady blends in with the Anderson family. Thanks for reading!