“Mommy!” she called next. As she pushed through the front door, all the lights in the house flickered as though wincing at the high-pitched voice. “Mommy,” she said again as they entered the kitchen. She started crying in earnest when she saw Gigi. The grandfather clock went off again, but this time it sounded like a cry for help. If Tava was joyful pandemonium, Kay was pure chaos in the kind of way that left you breathless.
“Now, now,” Gigi said, trying and failing to hide her irritation. “No need to make such a big fuss.” She hugged her second-oldest daughter and patted her cheek before going back to food prepping. Because family meant food, there was simply no way around it. “You all scoot on out of here. You’re like a bunch of chickens with your heads cut off, and I know the yapping will never stop now.”
“What can I do?” Aunt Kay asked, hovering around the kitchen, trying to look helpful but really just attempting to steal the tomatoes that Gigi was cutting up.
“Stop that!” Gigi slapped her hand away.
“What beautiful sunflowers,” Sadie noted, nodding to the bouquet in the windowsill over the sink.
“Humph,” Gigi said, but there was a slight pink to her cheeks that made Sadie smile.
Though the house liked to tease her, Aunt Kay’s presence brightened the room. Her magic lay in making everyone around her feel loved. A back scratch from her nails felt better than a ninety-minute massage because it was infused with focused intention and love. A compliment from Kay made you believe it instead of brushing it off or awkwardly accepting it, as women were wont to do.
Tava’s magic was more mischievous. Sadie could see it floating around her in streams of rainbow glitter. It was the kind of magic that made you do things you normally wouldn’t, that made you feel like anything was possible. Very simply, it was magic of the imagination, the type that turned the ordinary into the extraordinary. A tent of blankets turned into a fairy den; a typical outfit suddenly gave you red-carpet confidence; and teas turned into curious elixirs that you would remember long after the cup was empty.
Sadie laughed, her heart bubbling in her chest like sweet soda water. The rain had stopped, and the afternoon sun was sliding through the windows, the golden light refracting against the water droplets left on the panes and casting little rainbows across the counter. Seth bumped her shoulder in a friendly way as he walked to the living room.
The day wore on, and they made up the guest room and blew up air mattresses.
“We’re going to need more coffee,” Gigi said as Tava poured the last cup.
The hubbub in the house continued to grow as Sadie navigated around Aunt Kay and Tava. When she went to help Gigi with folding the freshly washed blankets, Tava was already there. When she went to sit on her stool at the counter, Kay was there, drinking an iced coffee. She felt a little lost in her own home.
As evening approached, Sadie gave a sigh of relief. The kitchen, at least, would be safe.
“What are we making?” Sadie asked Gigi when finally it was just the two of them in there. Gigi took a deep breath, stopped chopping the tomatoes, and leaned against the counter.
“Lasagna and garlic bread with salad,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if there was anything else to possibly serve at an impromptu family reunion. “And I wish you all would stop making such a damn fuss.” She used the back of her hand to wipe her brow.
“Not likely,” Sadie answered, pulling down the pomegranate-infused balsamic vinegar and locally made olive oil, to mix a dressing for the salad. She added a sprinkling of herbs de Provence, a dash of mustard, and a dollop of orange honey.
“Hand me the butter, would you?” Gigi asked, setting out slices of sourdough on a baking tray.
As Sadie pulled it out of the fridge, it softened in her hands.
“Sorry,” she said, sighing.
“What is it, sugar?”
“I don’t—I mean—just getting used to everyone being here I guess. It’s a lot of noise. Change. You know.” She shrugged.
“You’re more set in your ways than I am,” Gigi observed. “It’s not good for someone as young as you. Now go pick some lettuce for the salad, missy. And take these damn dogs with you before they get stepped on.” Bambi and Abby, both sitting at Gigi’s feet, waiting for scraps, whined.
Sadie’s toes curled as her bare feet hit the cold, still wet gravel in the garden. She had a basket under one arm for the butter lettuce, and the dogs were dancing around her heels. She could hear her aunts chatter humming from inside, and the smell of garlic wafted through the screen door. She closed her eyes, the basket half full of lettuce, and tilted her head back to the sky. Fresh, wet earth; cold hands; and the promise of a hot dinner …