Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (4 page)

“Yes! I searched online for a cheese ball recipe last year and DaisyForever.com came up.”

Laughter broke out around the table—except for Jeane, Manny, and Nana Eleanor.

“Award-winning cheese balls! Come and get ’em!” Eliza hollered.

Scarlet bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at her sister. In as calm a voice as she could muster, she began to explain. “I share recipes sometimes, but mostly I offer ideas of how to live an artful life. I also show how to translate vintage fashion into contemporary wardrobes. I recently had some national press. Look, I’ll show you!” Scarlet started to rise to get her parents’ laptop from the other room. She’d show them the subscriber count, the award graphics, and even links to the recent
USA Today
article. That ought to cool their heels!

“It’s OK, Scar, we trust you,” Charles said, leaning back to put his hand on her wrist. “Good for you. I hope it brings you all the fame and fortune you desire.”

A surge of pride came over Scarlet. “Like I’ve been saying
for the past two years, all I want is to make a living doing what makes me happy.”

Manny sighed and pushed his chair away from the table. “Have you ever heard the quote by Eleanor Roosevelt? ‘Happiness is not a goal, it is a by-product.’ Put that through your serger and see what comes out.” He stood up and was about to leave the room when Nana Eleanor stood up too.

“
That
Eleanor is long gone,” she said, wagging her crooked finger. “However, this one is still alive, and she says with or without your blessing, our Scarlet is going to find her happy.”

M
ary Theresa knew of eleven steps to avoid headaches. Today she’d had time to complete only ten.

She had barely inserted the key into the lock of the front door of her two-story Chandler home when her first brain throb of the evening hit. Her six-year-old twins, Rocky and Lucy, who had the ears of night bats with hearing aids, sensed her arrival. Even through the thick, white wood door, Mary Theresa heard them shriek in unison as they pounded their fists against it in excitement.

While the rest of the country enjoyed their Thanksgiving feast, for her, the evening merely marked the close of another ten-hour day in software-design hell. She would have given anything to enter her contemporary castle, slink past her family, and crawl into bed with her new issue of
PC World,
but she didn’t dare. The thirty-five-year-old would instead burst into the house and express her undying gratitude to her husband and twins, because that’s what devoted mothers did.

Mary Theresa didn’t notice the gorgeous November air, or the glittery fall wreath her children had created for the mailbox. She was too busy clenching her teeth, pasting on a fake smile as she opened the door, just in time for a heavy whiff of pumpkin pie. She couldn’t decipher if it was the gourmet candle she had asked
her husband, Hadley not to light, or an actual pumpkin pie. As exhausted as she felt, either one would do.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy! We’ve been waiting for you!” the kids sang out.

She had barely loosened the grip on her rolling briefcase before they attempted to leap on her. She adored her children, but at forty-three pounds each, Mary Theresa couldn’t afford to lift them and throw her back out again. She politely blocked their advances and offered kisses as a substitute.

“Mommy, we missed you,” Lucy said with a heavy lisp due to two missing front teeth. “It’s Thanksgiving. Everyone left already. Why didn’t you come home?”

Rocky interceded. “Daddy said it’s ’cause the world’ll stop spinning if she doesn’t work for a day.”

She couldn’t believe her husband had made such a rude comment about her to their children! She was also appalled at what the kids were wearing. Rocky hopped around in Lucy’s Easter Bunny costume, and Lucy crawled on all fours in Rocky’s red reindeer flannel pajamas, pretending to be Rudolph.

At the same time, Hadley’s favorite spastic John Coltrane LP blasted throughout the house, but it was no match for Mary Theresa’s vocal cords. Especially as fired up as she was.

“Oh my God, Hadley, is this how the children were dressed in front of your family today? I spent eighty-five dollars on new outfits. Didn’t you see them laid out on the dresser this morning? Must I do everything?”

Hadley exited the kitchen and approached her in the foyer. A twinkle danced in his eye as he handed her a goblet of white wine. In order to keep the peace, she reluctantly accepted and sipped. For an instant, her mood shifted from annoyed to pacified. Chilled Chardonnay, her favorite, had that effect on her. The sweet, buttery tang hit her bloodstream just right—so
much so that she downed the rest of the glass in four uninterrupted gulps.

“I just wish you would keep to the plan,” she said through a shiver as she gave him back the glass. “I can only imagine what your mom and dad think of us as parents.”

“They think we have creative kids, sweetie,” he said calmly.

Hadley had to be the kindest, gentlest man Mary Theresa had ever met in her life. On nights like this, it grated on her nerves. But she had to admit that after ten years of marriage, he sure knew how to soften her up.

“Mare, it’s still Thanksgiving,” he said, seductively sliding his hand behind her neck. “This day is about relaxing and making memories together. We’re happy you’re home. Come on, we have a surprise for you.” His stroked her arm and led her across the entryway, through the formal seating area toward the dining room.

“Hadley. We’ve been married all these years and I still have to ask you to not call me that,” she said, wondering why he couldn’t—or rather, wouldn’t—respect her proper name.

She could tell he held back an eye-roll. “Sorry, honey,” he said with a hint of irritation. He sighed and stopped when they reached the room. “Mary Theresa, this holiday is about chilling out. We’re not being graded or watched or judged. It’s just us. Let’s enjoy the night.”

“But Mary Theresa is a strong, Catholic name given to me by—” She decided to stop midsentence because he wasn’t listening anyway. Why waste her breath.

“Close your eyes, Mommy!” Rocky sang out. Both kids planted their little hands on the small of her back and shoved her into the dining room for the big reveal. A fleeting thought popped into Mary Theresa’s mind of a cleared table and a spotless kitchen. Tomorrow was Black Friday and the clock had just
chimed eight p.m. She wanted to get in her seven hours of sleep and wake up refreshed and in time to hit the early-bird sales.

“Open your eyes! Lookie! Mommy, we saved Thanksgiving for you!” Lucy proclaimed, gesturing her stubby arms across a fully set table. “Sit down!” Lucy could barely contain her excitement, as if she had waited all day for this very moment. Feeling a tad guilty, Mary Theresa smiled and hugged her daughter.

Hadley pulled out a chair, cleaned it with an invisible duster, and gestured for Mary Theresa to sit, as if she were a queen. She wanted to be mad at him, but how could she after this royal treatment? She nodded, sat, placed the napkin on her lap, and admired the turkey-silhouette placemat the kids had made.

“Mommy, we are celebrating today because the Native Americans stole America from the white man,” Rocky announced.

Mary Theresa’s son never ceased to shock her. Even when she thought she’d heard it all, he always managed to eke out a gasp from her. The kid spent an entire year yelling “Daddy!” every time he saw George Lopez on the TV or in magazines, because Hadley resembled the comedian. Therefore, the family dubbed him Rocky “Just the Wrong Facts Ma’am” Cotorro.

“No, big boy. That is inaccurate,” Mary Theresa corrected. Her son may have been cuter than a newborn puppy, but she couldn’t indulge his historical inaccuracies.

“Nuh-uh, Mommy. That’s what I remember from school!”

Mary Theresa rose from her chair. “Well, your teacher should have taught you better. Come on, let’s go to the computer and I’ll show you on Wikipedia.”

Hadley flashed her a hard look and swooped up both kids in his arms. “Sit back down, Mare. I’ll be right back. Kiddos, let’s let Mommy eat in peace; it’s bedtime.”

“No, Hadley,” she argued. “We must correct Rocky
immediately. We can’t have our son spewing out inaccurate facts like that. We’ll look like inattentive parents!”

It irked her that Hadley simply shook his head and playfully jogged up the stairs with the kids, as if Rocky’s words were no big deal. She wondered how he could be so casual about the education of their only son.

Mary Theresa made sure to have the final say. She raised her hand to the side of her mouth and shouted, “You must talk to the school about this first thing Monday! This is
very
important!” She paused for a split second, then added, “I’m not saying it is your fault, honey. It’s the school’s fault!”

Oh, whatever,
she thought. She knew her husband would blow it off. His theory was that as long as Rocky straightened out his facts by middle school, he’d be fine. This is where they clashed as parents—and spouses. Hadley accused her of being a micromanaging control freak, while she lectured him daily about his happy-go-lucky attitude and how it doesn’t work in real life. When they began dating, the “opposites attract” cliché seemed romantic. But after almost a decade of marriage, the appeal had thinned.

Mary Theresa told her husband many times that she would be glad to loosen up on certain issues, but only if
he
would tighten up on others.

She picked up the plastic fork from the placemat, tapped it on the table, and reflected on the past ten years. Was she happy? Shouldn’t she know? Shouldn’t the answer come easily? She wanted to be thankful today, but she couldn’t recall a recent week when she and Hadley hadn’t raised their voices. Even over small issues like what kind of movie to see or where to put the potted plants on their bedroom balcony. There had been larger battles too, like in what neighborhood to raise their kids. He wanted to live near his family in the West Valley, but the schools
on the east side of town ranked higher on the national average. Why did he have to counter every suggestion of hers? Didn’t he know how much thought and research she put into her findings? Winging it was adventurous for childless couples, not for parents of twins.

Mary Theresa didn’t even want to think about their belongings. If it were up to Hadley, their furniture, appliances, and vehicles would all be rusty and pre-owned. She insisted on brand-new. Mary Theresa worked hard for her income and enjoyed celebrating her accomplishments with objects that brought her fresh-off-the-assembly-line joy. How could she be taken seriously as a team leader at work, driving up in a used clunker?

She shook her head to clear away the angry thoughts and decided to focus on the Thanksgiving treats. The feast Hadley and the kids had set out for her scored a strong B+. A basket of rolls, steamed veggies, mashed potatoes, mac ’n’ cheese, a tray of sliced turkey, and another of ham. Chocolate pecan pie, and pumpkin pie too—definitely not the candle. She removed the cellophane from the turkey, and the rich scent hit her nose. Starving, because she hadn’t eaten since her protein bar at breakfast, she chose two medium slices of the poultry, a heaping portion of broccoli, and a single tablespoon of mashed potatoes and gravy.

A faint chorus of
“Gooooood night, Mommy!”
filtered down from upstairs, her kids’ voices muffled due to the John Coltrane music that still blared through the house speakers.

“Sweet dreams, I love yoooou!” she shouted back.

She lifted her knife, cut into her turkey slice, and before she took a bite she swallowed tears.

They had started marriage counseling again.

Third round, new therapist. She found the ordeal ineffective.
Last week the couple was asked to share the memory of their initial introduction, and Mary Theresa actually had to fudge. She knew they met as computer programming students at Arizona State University, probably in a class. Why were those exact details so important to remember anyway, especially with a full-time job and two kids to contend with?

Her military parents were so strict with her that, when she met Hadley, his humor and charm drew her in like nails to a magnet. Hadley was one of the few people who could make her laugh about the ordinary and live in the moment.

A simple lunch date led to a string of dinners, late-night snacks, and, ultimately, daily breakfasts at his downtown Tempe apartment. They married soon after without any hoopla. He went on to design video games for a toy company and she joined a global communications firm as a software designer. That was about it—nothing momentous or cutesy like in the movies.