Cupid's Contract

To Grandmother's House We Go...

"Honey, I'm hoooooooome!" Pushing open the front door to her mother's house, the sweet sound of crickets welcomed her. As she passed through the front hallway, she pasted a bright smile on her face. The last thing she wanted to do now was spend the day being comforted by her family as they pretended to be sorry about Adam. These women were sharks. If they smelled blood in the water, there would be no hope of escape.

"Mom?" She poked her head into the empty living room. "Grandma?"

"In the kitchen, love!" In Eve's current emotional state her mother's voice was enough to make her bottom lip tremble. Get it together, Eve. You didn't even like him. He wore sleeveless vests. In winter. She pinched the back of her own arm, the pain conquering the tears, took a deep breath, and faced the firing squad.

The kitchen looked the same as ever to Eve, with its yellow-tiled floor and pale green walls covered in photos that stared back at her. Standing at a counter, stirring furiously with her back to Eve, was the matriarch of her small family unit. A woman of indiscriminate age, her grey curls wrapped in a silk red scarf, Roxanne Higgins was the tallest member of the Higgins clan. A statuesque five foot three, she was dressed entirely in black, her bare feet pale and stark against the ebony of her trousers. She was humming under her breath as she stirred with one hand, tapping her other against the counter to an entirely different beat. Her only sign of awareness at Eve's arrival was the wave she threw over her shoulder. The other hand still tapping, she gestured with the wet spoon, sending a splash of red across the tiled floor, never once looking away from her pot.

"What is she making now?" Eve muttered to the petite woman at the small kitchen table. In contrast to her own mother, Barbara Higgins was awash with colour. Her brown hair, equally as erratic and curly as Roxanne's, was thrown chaotically over one shoulder, a garish butterfly pinning it back. Her blouse had been a vibrant pink, though now it was dotted with the red of Grandma's concoction, giving her the appearance of a victim of a scandalous accident.

Barbara looked up from the cards she was doggedly shuffling. Her green eyes, so different from Eve's brown, glittered in mischief. "She won't tell me, but she's been humming all afternoon so I know it's trouble. Want me to read your cards?"

Eve shook her head. Though she didn't believe in tarot readings, nor in her mother's new found ability with them, she didn't think she ought to give the spirits an opportunity to tell her mother she was single. Again. "Are you still doing that? I thought you were going to do balloon animals instead?"

Barbara was a secretary at a local general practitioner's and every year they held a fundraiser for children's charities. Each member of staff was expected to volunteer in some way and, despite her talents at baking, Barbara always insisted on learning a new trick for it. The more bizarre, the better. This year, she had tamely announced that she wanted to read people's fortunes. Last year she had tried to breathe fire. Fortunately enough for the audience, she had ended up making balloon animals when her fire equipment mysteriously vanished.

Barbara waved her arm distractedly, cards escaping into the air. "No, no, ooh! Whoops! That was last year. My jaw hurt for days, all that blowing. I don't know how some people manage."

Eve held back a snort and pulled out a chair, resting her elbows on the table. An errant sigh escaped her mouth and, before her mother could pounce on it, she announced, "I saw the Costelloes have a 'For Sale' sign up? How long has that been there?" Eve's mother was a notorious gossip, and if anything could distract her from the scent of man-troubles, it was neighbourhood drama.

"It's been up a whole month now and nobody has put in an offer. Rita says they're moving to be closer to the city, but Earl says they've had money troubles for over a year..." The furrow between her mother's brow signified that she was about to begin an epic tale, and another sigh nearly escaped Eve again, though this one was of relief. Stupid, traitorous mouth.