Welcome
to The Spot Writers. This
month’s prompt is to title the story “Dinner with Mrs. Claus.”
This
week’s story comes from Cathy MacKenzie. Cathy’s novel, WOLVES
DON’T KNOCK,
a psychological drama, is available from her locally or on Amazon.
MISTER
WOLFE,
the sequel, coming early 2020. Watch for it!
***
Dinner
with Mrs. Claus
by Cathy MacKenzie
I
set down my beer and picked up the remote, lowering the volume on the
television. Had I imagined the thud at the front door? I listened for
the doorbell. Nothing.
Another
noise. As if someone kicked at the door.
I
flicked on the outside light and peered out the window. A Mrs. Claus
stood on the top step.
I
opened the door. Nope, she wasn’t the real Mrs. Claus, for this one
was too young. Her blonde hair curled around the white fur of the
Santa hat as if she’d been wearing the hat for months. Snowflakes
dotted the red of the hat. I eyed her svelte figure beneath the
matching red coat.
“I'm
making dinner tonight.” She smiled slightly but didn’t move as if
waiting for an okay to enter the house.
I
scanned the yard for a vehicle, barely seeing anything through the
shower of snow. My car, parked in the driveway, would soon be
unrecognizable as a vehicle. I shivered, wishing I had driven it into
the garage. Where was her vehicle? I looked around again. No other
vehicles in sight. Had she borrowed Santa's sleigh? I listened for
the grunting of reindeer—I’d heard they made those types of
sounds.
“Well?”
she said.
I
shook my head at my silliness. And for ignoring the beautiful woman
facing me. “Sorry.” I took three bags from her. “Come in.”
She
kicked off her heavy boots and trudged to the kitchen as if she owned
the place, setting the remaining two grocery bags on the counter. I
added the ones I carried.
She
removed her mid-length wool coat and handed it to me. “My hat
stays. What about you? Where’s yours?”
My
Santa hat was under the Christmas tree. “I’ll get it.”
On
the way, I hung Mrs. Claus’ coat in the closet. I located my hat
amongst the gaily wrapped gifts, positioned it on my head, and headed
to the kitchen.
She
had opened a bottle of sparkling wine.
Rosé.
“Here you go.” She held out a glass, one of the crystal glasses
usually saved for special occasions. Was this one such occasion?
She
eyed the cookbooks on the shelves, humming and hawing as if
performing the eeny-meanie-catch-a-red-nosed-reindeer chant. “This
one,” she announced, thrusting out Special
Pastas for Special Times.
“What do you think?”
“Fine
by me. You're the boss.”
She
giggled. "I am, aren't I?" She tilted her glass to lips as
red as Rudolph’s nose. Her eyes sparkled like tree lights.
I
sat on the stool and watched her bustle around the kitchen, taking
this pot and that pot, selecting one spice and then another, pausing
occasionally to sip the wine. The aroma of garlic soon permeated the
room. With a spatula, she flipped the shrimp and scallops as if she
were a well-trained chef. Water soon boiled.
“Want
me to add the pasta?” I asked, feeling guilty.
“Nope,
I’m good. You relax.”
I
adjusted my hat. “Okay, but I need to remove my hat. This heat is
getting to me.” Was the wine or the stove making me sweat? Perhaps
it was the company.
Mrs.
Claus examined my face. I thought she was going to reach out and
touch it at one point. “I’m getting a bit hot, too, truth be
known.”
“So,
we’re done?”
She
quickly faced the stove. “Done?” Her voice faltered. “Done…as
in dinner?”
“Done
as in the Christmas charade, Missus Claus.”
Her
shoulders relaxed, and she glanced at me.
My
burden lifted, too. I hadn’t realized I’d been so uptight.
“Okay,
Mister Claus. Yes, we are done.” She pointed to the ceiling light,
which hung low over the kitchen island, and beckoned with her little
finger. “Come, give me a kiss.”
I
looked up. Mistletoe. Where had that come from?
Mavis
and I had a simple Christmas tradition in our household. We never
ignored mistletoe. After dinner, I planned to propose another. No
more silly tiffs. My bed—our bed—had been cold and empty the
previous night.
***
The
Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val
Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine
A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil
Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara
De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.ca/
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