Blame It On The Mistletoe - A Novel of Bright's Pond by Joyce Magnin

my nose tickled. I wanted to spit it across the floor, but I managed to swallow. Whatever spices and flavors she had in there were not mixing well. I could have just licked the bottom of a hamster cage and gotten the same effect. I sipped coffee to wash the taste away. "OK, Ruth, what is in that? It's pretty awful."
    "I knew it was bad." She looked sad.
    "What did you put in it? There's a taste or two that just doesn't make it. Now I did like the one macadamia I crunched into but—"
    "Pineapple and passion fruit," Ruth said. "Too much pineapple, too much passion fruit, and then all that sage and thyme and . . . Oh, heavens to Betsy, Griselda, your face is red as a tomato. I hope you aren't allergic."
    My stomach rolled.
    "Pineapple and passion fruit in turkey stuffing?"
    "It didn't sound like a bad idea," Ruth said. "It's all tropical you know. My theme."
    "Maybe it isn't the fruit. Maybe it's more about the proportions and the spices you chose and, of course, the coconut. Ruth, I hate coconut."
    "How can you hate coconut? You mean you don't like Mounds Bars?"
    I shook my head. "Nope."
    I took another, small pinch of the stuff off the side of the bowl and closed my eyes praying that God would not let me die a turkey-stuffing death. "Mm, now see, I just a tasted a bit that was not bad, not bad at all."
    Ruth tasted it. "I see what you mean. Maybe if I tone it down. Oh, dear, I have less than a week to get everything done. And I wanted the stuffing to be delicious."
    "It will be."
    "Maybe a shot of rum, you know, just for taste."
    I shrugged and sipped my coffee.
    "I'm not at all worried about the rest of the meal," Ruth said.
    "I got everything else under control. Wait until you taste dessert. I'm not telling you what it is. It's going to be a big surprise. A big surprise." She held her hands about four feet apart.
    "I can't wait. I know it's going to be great."
    "Oh, that reminds me. Can you drive me down to Brisco's on Tuesday to pick up the bird. Mr. Brisco says he has a nice one for me."
    "Sure. I said I would, remember? Let's go early though." Ruth had been getting more and more forgetful lately. Mostly little things. It concerned me, but I chalked it up to getting older and the stress of Thanksgiving. She stayed a few more minutes until I told her that I needed to get to the library. Fridays were not a busy day but I liked to open the doors anyway just in case a kid from the high school needed something.
    "Oh, sure, sure. I'm feeling a bit better," Ruth said. "I'll go home and rework this stuffing."
    "Good idea. I'll see you later."
    "Can I bring another sample over if I need?" My heart wasn't in it but I said, "Sure. Of course."
    "Now if Agnes was still living here," Ruth said on the porch.
    "She'd know what was wrong with my stuffing right away."
    "That's true. But sorry, you only have me. Maybe Ivy can help."
    "Ivy," Ruth said looking down the road. "I'll try her."
    I watched as Ruth walked down the tree-lined street, fallen autumn leaves crunching under her feet as she carried her illconceived recipe home—appropriately hidden under a white dish towel with a turkey appliqué.
     

     
    The walk to the library was lovely. Crisp fall air with a hint of wood smoke tickled my nose. I passed piles of unburned leaves pushed to the curb and greeted neighbors already outside raking their lawns unveiling that autumn green of the grass just before the first real snowfall. The sun shone bright while wispy clouds like torn lace floated overhead.
    "Morning, Griselda, nice day," said Bill Tompkins.
    Babette Sturgis was running down the street carrying an armful of books. "Hey, Miss Griselda. I got to catch the bus."
    I waved and thought how blessed I was to live in Bright's Pond even though I still nursed a place in my heart that longed for something more, something that I knew was just beyond my reach. Something that started to become attainable when Cliff Cardwell took me up in his plane that first time and I knew with every