An Inheritance

Chapter 22

Lauren pulled the last batch of oatmeal cookies out of the oven.  Even though she hadn’t promised to make some for the gathering, she loved the way it made the entire cottage feel homey and inviting.  Two pitchers of lemonade had been made earlier in the day, and were cooling in the refrigerator. 

As she placed the cookies on the rack to cook, she smiled and thought about the wonderful Sunday she and Sam had had.  It had been almost picture perfect, from the picnic dinner, down to the dancing.  She couldn’t remember being so relaxed and, dare she think it, happy.   She knew he was interested, she was pretty sure of that … but what was that little forehead kiss about?  If she hadn’t known better she would have thought him shy; but not Sam, no one could ever accuse him of that.  Lauren half-frowned; something was holding him back.  Maybe it was because he figured she wasn’t going to be hanging around long … and of course she wasn’t … so why should she care?  What exactly did she want from him anyway?  But Sam had asked her out again, so she reasoned, she’ll just shelve her questions until then.

Odilia had called around noon to remind her she would be coming earlier than the rest, around 4:00.  Lauren again wondered what could be so important that Odilia needed to talk to her privately.  She couldn’t shake the feeling of apprehension that what she wanted to talk about would be something she wouldn’t want to hear.  Looking up at the kitchen clock, she realized she wouldn’t have to wait much longer, it was almost time for Odilia to arrive.

With just that thought going through her mind, the sound of tires on the gravel driveway caught Lauren’s attention.  Moving the platter of cookies to the far end of the table, she put the cookie sheet into the sink and looked around to make sure everything was in order.

She opened the front door just in time to see Odilia pulling out folding chairs from the back of her jeep and went down to help.  They exchanged ‘hellos’ and addressed the task of carrying the chairs into the cottage.  Once inside, Odilia suggested adding some additional chairs from the kitchen, which Lauren did, while wondering how many people were actually expected to arrive.  As she helped Odilia move the sofa to accommodate the extra seating, Lauren could tell that this had been done many times in the past.

Looking over the seating arrangement with a satisfying nod of her head, Odilia went back to the jeep and brought back a covered dish. 

“Your grandmother loved my sweet potato casserole.  I personally felt hers was better, but she always insisted that I bring this to all pot-lucks.  She probably felt I couldn’t make anything else edible; and maybe she was right.  Cooking has never been one of my strong suits and that is almost scandalous for a Southern Woman.”  Odilia laughed at herself. 

Lauren put the dish into the oven where she had reduced the temperature to warm.  She really doubted Odilia’s claim of not being able to cook because that casserole smelled wonderful.

It had only taken about twenty minutes for the seating to be arranged; the others wouldn’t be arriving for quite a while.  Her nervousness returned and she wished Odilia would just get on with it; tell her what she wanted to say and move on.  Motioning for her to sit at the kitchen table, Lauren went over and pulled down a small plate, then put a few of the cookies onto it and placed it between them on the table. 

The first few minutes were taken up with just a few niceties on how Lauren enjoyed the Bayou Jam.  Lauren was no longer amazed at how fast word was spread around this town and that Odilia already knew where she had been the previous night.  She just answered how much she liked it and that the dancing was challenging, but fun.  She could tell Odilia was just going through the motions of asking a question, then barely acknowledging Lauren’s answer.

As though listening to something in her own head, Odilia nodded slightly and looked at Lauren kindly.

“Have you been reading your grandmother’s letters?”