Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I’m expecting Mom and Hannah to yawn and rise from the card table, too, but to my surprise, Mom looks at Hannah, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and says, “Are you too tired to play one more game with me?” Well, I’ll be damned. Mom’s never been much of a night owl. And that’s been especially true since Dad died.
“I’d love to, Mrs. Hennessey,” Hannah replies.
“Wonderful! And call me Carol.”
Hannah beams a glorious smile at my mother from behind her thick glasses. “I’d love to, Carol.”
I open my mouth, intending to say, “Well, I suppose I could be convinced to stick around for one more game, too.” But Mom beats me to the punch.
“Goodnight, honey,” she says to me. To Hannah, she says, “You know what we should play? Backgammon.”
Whoa. Mom and Dad used to play backgammon every night before bedtime. They’d pop some popcorn, pour a glass of wine or whiskey, and sit down at this very table to play and laugh and tease each other relentlessly. Despite my best efforts, I haven’t been able to coax Mom into playing her favorite game since Dad’s passing. And now, after only a half-day spent with Hannah, she’s inviting her to play the sacred game with her?
“Is it hard to learn?” Hannah asks.
“My darling, it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy. You’ll pick it up in no time.”
Hannah shoots me a snarky look that says, “Yes, I noticed she said lemon instead of pumpkin,” and I chuckle in response. Since that first night in Vegas, we’ve playfully argued about that phrase several times, with both of us being willing to die on our respective hills.
“Well, off to bed I go,” I say. “Kick some ass, Banana. Mom always wallops me in backgammon.”
“Oh, before you go, Peter,” Mom says. “Would you be a doll and make us a big bowl of popcorn?”
My breathing halts. Backgammon and popcorn? I never would have believed it. I swallow hard and try to sound casual. “Sure thing. Butter and salt?”
“Yep, the usual. If that’s okay with you?”
“It’s perfect,” Hannah confirms.
“Would you like refills on wine?”
After both women say they’d love it, I grab their empty glasses and head to the adjacent kitchen, while Mom scurries excitedly from the card table to a nearby cabinet where she keeps the backgammon set.
“I’ve always wanted to learn how to play backgammon,” Hannah says behind me.
“I used to play it all the time with my husband, David,” Mom says, as I’m crossing the threshold into the kitchen. But rather than enter the heart of the room, I stand at the wall, hidden and eavesdropping, as Mom continues talking. “David and I always loved teasing and taunting each other while playing,” she says. “But all in good fun. Let me know if I get too mean, and I promise I’ll stop.”
Hannah giggles. “Don’t tamp down your trash-talking on my account, Carol. My sister and I do the same thing while playing any game. Fair warning, I can give as good as I get.”
“Oh, good,” Mom says. “Light-hearted teasing makes any game so much more fun, doesn’t it? As long as nobody gets too mean.”
“Agreed. A little light ribbing is the goal. Nobody should be running out of the room bawling over a game of cards or backgammon.”
Both women laugh together, causing tears to prick my eyes. I can’t believe how light-hearted and happy Mom seems around Hannah. She’s like her old self. My heart squeezing, I set the wine glasses on the island and grab the popcorn popper from a cupboard. But when I hear another burst of laughter from the other room, I suddenly feel too overcome by emotion to carry on with my task. Breathing hard, I lean over the kitchen counter and try to pull myself together. The last thing I want to do is walk into that room with tears streaming down my face. Not when Mom’s sounding so carefree and happy.
I rub my eyes and glance around the kitchen at the various ghosts of my dad. The one at the kitchen table. Another at the coffee maker. One standing on this very spot, making popcorn. And after a bit, I feel in control of my emotions and able to get back to work.
“Any questions?” Mom is saying to Hannah when I walk into the room bearing popcorn and wine. “Ooooh, that looks delicious. Thank you.”
“Can I do anything else for you, ladies?”
“Not for me,” Hannah says. And when Mom says the same, I wish them a good night, warn them both to play nice and not get into fisticuffs, and shuffle toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms.
“Oh, wow, that was impressive!” Mom says behind me.
“I can do it from clear across the room,” Hannah replies. “It’s my superpower.”
“Well, this I’ve got to see!”
I’m assuming Hannah has tossed a popped kernel up and into her mouth—a parlor trick she deftly performs whenever we watch a movie with popcorn. But the excitement in Mom’s voice makes me want to see Mom’s reaction to the feat. When I turn around in the entryway to the hallway, Hannah is getting into position across the room from Mom.