A McClendon Thanksgiving Page 14

  Renee sighed. “Listen, starting your own business isn’t a small task, so I get it. I want to open my own public relations firm one day too, so I understand that it can get overwhelming. You’ve got to be able to handle yourself under pressure, and you already know how to do that, Faith.”

  There was a long pause before Renee continued, “You’ve always been the even-tempered one in the family, so, yes, it was out of character for you to speak to us in that manner.”

  “Being even-tempered never got me anywhere but run over, pushed around, and I can’t allow it anymore, Renee.”

  “No, sweetie, you were hardly a pushover.”

  Faith didn’t see it quite that way. Folks thought they could say whatever they wanted to her and she should take it. Faith always felt as if she were the one who had to make things right. Even though she was trying to set things in order now, it was for a totally different reason.

  “Listen, Renee, you guys aren’t used to me speaking my mind. I get that. But things have changed. No longer will I keep silent or swallow what someone else says to me if something’s bothering me.”

  Her sister was silent, so Faith continued, “Now…” she paused, taking a breath in between because she knew Renee was listening to her, “…I didn’t have to use the snarky tone, and that’s why I’m apologizing.”

  “Okay, Faith, apology accepted,” Renee said. “And I want to apologize as well. I just want all your marketing to be perfect.” Renee drew in a big breath. “Listen, enough of that. Now that we’ve gotten past that, I would like to help you create the grand-opening marketing campaign.”

  “That would be great. Where do we start?”

  “Do you have any idea when you’re going to have a grand opening, so we’ll know the timeframe in which we have to get it done?”

  “I would like to have the grand opening on Black Friday.”

  “That’s a busy shopping day, Faith. You sure?”

  Faith rolled her eyes. Her sister was at it again, so she didn’t respond.

  A couple of seconds later, Renee said, “Sorry. Okay, Black Friday it is.”

  Faith stifled a giggle as she thought about her mother. She could hear her mother say “some folks don’t think fat meat is greasy”. Faith understood it now because she had to show her sisters that she was going to do things her way.

  “Yes, because I’d like to take advantage of it.”

  “Okay, we can definitely build something around that. Go ahead and decide on a logo and I can start working on the campaign,” Renee proposed.

  “I’m going to have a meeting really soon because I’m going to need all hands on deck for this one,” Faith said.

  “Count me in. I’ll talk to you later.”

  The heaviness in her heart had lifted and Faith was relieved. She still had to talk to Patrice and that would be another story, but in the end Faith was confident that she, as well, would move on.

  As soon as Faith pressed the button to end the call, Michael’s name appeared on her screen. She was anxious to talk to him.

  “Whatcha doing?” Faith asked.

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “I just got off the phone with Renee.”

  “Good. I didn’t think you were going to wait until tomorrow.”

  “No, I couldn’t. I needed to get things straight with her.”

  “Did you talk to Treecie too?”

  Faith shook her head. “No, I haven’t tackled that one.”

  “Are you intimidated by her?”

  “I wouldn’t say intimidated, but talking to her takes more energy because she’s a fast talker.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Patrice was out of line. She had no business butting into the conversation I was having with Renee. But as you know, that’s Treecie. She is free with her negative opinions at the most inopportune times.”

  “Ah, Treecie’s a good girl; she’ll understand. You watch and see,” Michael said.

  “Can we have dinner tomorrow night?” Faith asked.

  “What would you like me to bring?”

  Faith chuckled. “Yourself.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Great. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  LEMON SOUR CREAM POUND CAKE

  3 cups sugar

  3 cups all-purpose flour

  1/4 teaspoon salt

  1/4 teaspoon baking powder

  1 cup butter, softened

  1 (8-ounce) container sour cream

  6 large eggs

  2 tablespoons lemon juice

  1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

  LEMON GLAZE

  1 cup powdered sugar

  2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

  1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

  1 teaspoon grated lemon rind (optional)

  The weeks seemed to speed by as September moved into October and leaves changed and started to fall off their branches. As harvest time approached, Faith and Michael had gotten very comfortable with their new relationship. Faith couldn’t be happier with a man who was attentive, loving and supportive and, of course, a great friend. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him being in her life.

  The only thing she couldn’t talk about with him was her ex-husband. She just didn’t know how to broach the subject, and when he did, which wasn’t often, she would change the subject. She was trying to forget about Kevin, their marriage, that time in her life and the last thing he said to her.

  Walking into the shop on Monday morning, Faith was very pleased with the progress, the slate flooring had been installed, and material for the dressing closets had arrived. Today, she needed to set up her merchant account so she could accept all major credit cards. She also needed to order hangers, mannequins, window dressing materials, jewelry-and-accessory cases and the lighted, glass display cases for those items she wanted to spotlight.

  The door chimed and Faith turned as Margaret was walking through the door.

  “Good morning, Margaret. How are you feeling today?”

  “I’m doing very well, Faith. Looks like we’re coming right along.”

  “It looks that way. We’ve got to step it up, though, because Thanksgiving is rapidly approaching. I want us to be ready, so I put an ad in the newspaper to hire a cashier/hostess. Maybe a young high school girl who could work after school. That could bring in the young girls for custom prom and special-occasion dresses.”

  “That’s a great idea and the young ladies we having modeling could potentially be candidates to fill the after-school position. I asked them to come in tomorrow after four thirty, so they won’t interfere with the construction crew.”

  “No problem. I’ll be here. How are the dresses coming?”

  “We should have two completed dresses for the girls to try. How about you?” Margaret asked. “You haven’t said anything about your collection.”

  Faith dropped her head. She knew she had fallen behind on her sewing. She created the schedule because she hadn’t been able to even get started. Still nothing. “I know. I’m going to start working on them soon.” Faith really didn’t know when she was going to get around to it.

  “I kinda figured you were taking on too much. Coming up with a collection is not an easy task. The designs that I have are as old as time, but you can’t go wrong with a new take on a simple dress.”

  Simple was not the word that came to mind when Faith tried on the exquisite gown Margaret brought in the other day. It wasn’t a competition, so Faith wasn’t feeling any pressure that way. It was just the stress of getting it done before the grand opening. “I’m going to try my best though,” Faith said finally.

  Margaret walked over and kissed Faith on the forehead. “I know you will, dear.”

  She turned and walked away. “I’m going t
o go back here and finish that dress I started last week for the window display.”

  Margaret kept walking then turned back around. “Faith, have you thought about a theme for the window. Something eye catching as people walk by.”

  The building that housed Made to Order by Faith was located on a corner lot, a well-known, high-traffic area, so Faith would have to have attractive and elegant window displays.

  “I’ve had some fleeting thoughts, but nothing concrete. Do you have any ideas?”

  Margaret came back and stood before the window, giving Faith details of the vision for a window that changed based on the season or holiday. Faith loved the concept and could see where Michael got his kindness, because Margaret was a treasure to her and the business.

  Early Saturday morning, Faith pushed back the curtains, glanced out the window in her bedroom, noticing the trees had just about lost all their leaves. Faith loved the look of trees in fall, before leaves started to fall off. She and her sisters used to play in the leaves in the backyard while they were supposed to be helping their father rake them from the grass. But as soon as they made a big pile, they’d take turns jumping into it.

  Today, the sun wasn’t shining, the sky was a bit gray, but it was still a beautiful day, even though the house was a bit nippy. She turned up the thermostat a bit to cut the chill in the air.

  Faith showered and dressed quickly so she wouldn’t be late for the Thanksgiving-planning meetup. In keeping with the McClendon family tradition, each year since Faith was a little girl, her family hosted the Thanksgiving meal. It was a huge undertaking since they had family coming from all over the Chicagoland area and nearby cities to celebrate the holiday.

  Being with her family was a very important part of her starting over. Assisting with the preparation of the Thanksgiving meal, along with her mother and sisters, gave her a sense of belonging. It meant a lot to her since she hadn’t had the chance to celebrate a Thanksgiving holiday with her family since she got married.

  Her holidays had been spent with her in-laws in Florida, at the insistence of her husband, because they were older. Every winter Jake and Amanda Harrington left New York to avoid the harsh, bitter-cold weather, and once Kevin made enough money to buy them a house, they moved there permanently.

  The warm weather was great and they had a wonderful meal, courtesy of Faith and the small part her mother-in-law prepared, but it was nothing like what she’d been accustomed to. No togetherness, singing, being silly while working in the kitchen, as her family did every year. The men sat in front of a humongous television and watched sports, while the women just sat around and watched them watch sports.

  The McClendons celebrated every holiday, even Presidents’ Day, so they went all out for Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s when they always gave a big party to raise funds for Chicago Children’s Charities.

  After the first year of her marriage, Faith stopped calling her mother on holidays because she could hear all the voices and commotion in the background. She knew they were having fun and she was missing out. She particularly missed the annual best-dish contest where she and her siblings would compete against their first cousins on her father’s side.

  They each had to bake a dish, and after the meal, the family would vote on whose was the best. They had started this tradition back when Faith and her cousin Gwen got Easy-Bake Ovens for Christmas. Gwen constantly competed against Faith, even though Gwen lived in Detroit, so they didn’t see each other except holidays.

  The first year, they argued so much about whose cake tasted the best, that Myra came up with the idea of the girls each making one and everyone else saying whose was the tastiest. The next year, Myra bought a trophy, which became the McClendon Traveling Trophy. After that, the other cousins wanted to participate in the contest, so everyone agreed. Gwen always got mad when she didn’t win, but it was all in the name of love and fun.

  Faith knew the best weapon to help her win the contest this year was the McClendon family cookbook. There were several versions of the book, but the very first one they compiled had everyone’s recipes, from her grandmother’s to her great-great-grandmother’s and aunts’. Faith had a copy of all those books, but she couldn’t find them.

  She wondered if Renee had taken the books while she unpacked the kitchen boxes. Faith had emptied the boxes with all her other books in them, but they weren’t in there. As she got down on her knees and scanned the books on the shelves in the living room, she tried to think if there were any other boxes that hadn’t been emptied.

  Getting to her feet, she remembered that there was one last place she could look, but if they weren’t there, she’d have to give up and settle for some of the other cookbooks she knew her mother had.

  She rushed to the front closet by the door, pushing everything aside, reaching to the back. There it was, sitting in the corner.

  Dragging the heavy box out took a little effort, but she sat on the floor Indian style and sorted through the old fashion magazines and found the recipe books at the bottom. The book she was searching for had a red cover with white lettering. Faith had tried many of book’s excellent recipes that had been submitted by family members. She had no idea if her sisters or mother still had their copies, but it was a staple for her.

  After throwing everything else into the box, she pushed it to the back of the closet and shut the door. Slipping the book into her purse, she grabbed her coat and left the apartment.

  Faith could hear the laughter as soon as she walked into her parents’ home. She smiled, knowing that the fun had begun, but this time she too would be able to participate. Faith had missed this so much while she was away, but she didn’t have to worry about it anymore. She was here to stay. That love and laughter could only come from people who love each other genuinely.

  When she walked into the kitchen, Patrice, Jennifer, Renee and Myra were sitting around the huge kitchen table covered with books, paper and index cards.

  “Did you guys start without me?” she asked, taking off her jacket, flinging it around a chair.

  “We were just pulling out all these old recipes,” Renee said, thumbing through the pages of a small book.

  “Did you find something good?” Jennifer asked Faith as she scanned the index cards in her hands.

  Faith unzipped her purse and pulled out the red book. “Bam. Look what I have,” she said, waving the book in front of the other women’s faces.

  Without missing a beat, her sisters stood, reaching, trying to grab the cookbook, like single women trying to catch the bouquet at a wedding reception.

  But Faith snatched it back just before Renee could get her hands on it. She hid it behind her back. “Oh no, sistah, you’ve got to get your own.”

  Patrice lifted her brow. “Do you know you sound like that commercial where the guy tries to take the other guy’s record and he says ‘oh no, my brother, you’ve got to buy your own’?”

  They all broke out in laughter.

  With the book still behind her, Faith said, “You aren’t getting my cookbook. What did you do with yours?”

  Renee shook her head. “I let my friend use it because she wanted a good recipe for an old-fashioned pound cake. She never gave it back.”

  Patrice nodded. “Aunt Francis’s recipe?”

  Renee nodded.

  “Oh yeah. That one is fiyah.” Patrice kissed the tips of her fingers.

  Faith made Aunt Francis’s buttery pound cake all the time, so she didn’t need a recipe for that dessert. She’d taken it frequently to the bridge club in which Kevin’s boss’s wife was a member.

  “Well, what happened to yours?” Faith asked Patrice.

  “Now, you know that I don’t cook. I have no idea where it is. I just bought it to support the cause.”

  “I still have mine,” Myra said. “I put it up for safekeeping.”

  All the girls looked at their
mother. “Mom, you have it put up like a trophy or something?” Jennifer asked.

  “I only use them for inspiration. I know how to cook. You guys are the ones who need help.”

  Myra’s comment drew silence from everyone else.

  “Let’s get to work, please.” Myra slid the notepad in front of her, ending the conversation.

  Patrice rummaged through the cards and papers on the table. “Wait, I still want to find a recipe.”

  Myra nodded and moved on. “Have you girls have decided what you want to make? We can build our menu around that.” She picked up her pen, starting a list.

  “Are Aunties Junie, Francis and Grace coming to dinner this year with their husbands and kids?” Renee asked.

  “Kids? Their children are our age, remember? You meant to say their grandkids,” Patrice said. “If all those folks come, we’re going to have to put a leaf in the dining room table, plus use the kitchen table and set up another one for the kids, to accommodate them.

  “How many people have confirmed that they’re coming, Mama?” Faith asked. She had a feeling that the guest list was longer than usual because everybody wanted to get the story about her divorce. “I guess they’re coming so that they can see me, huh?” Faith added.

  “Of course,” Patrice said. “They want to get the 411 on the 911 that made you move back to Chicago without your husband.” Patrice twisted her lips to one side.

  “They’re coming for the free food,” Jennifer said.

  “I think it’s both,” Renee said.

  “Well, all these grown folks should contribute something and not just come here and eat up our food,” Jennifer said.

  Myra flung both hands up in the air to stop the chatter. “Girls, you are missing the whole point of doing this. It is an expression of our gratitude for each of the many blessings we receive every day. Thanksgiving is just a day set aside nationally for fellowship with family and friends in giving thanks.”

  Before Myra could finish, Patrice tilted her head to the left side, lifted her left arm and moved her right arm across it, back and forth, like she was playing a violin. Then she added sound, for effect.