Operation Christmas by Barbara Weitz Page B

what he really needed was a course in managing people. If his new bride was the problem then he needed to resolve the issue and quit taking it out on everyone. His mood swings and rants made her PMS days nonexistent. Couldn’t he see smart folks were jumping ship? Although she was tempted to do the same she stayed for the false sense of security the job gave her at a time when her emotional state struggled.
    Her heart pounded in her chest and made her breath come in short bursts. Things were getting harder not easier. She pulled into the garage and swallowed a whimper, refusing to cry. Oh Lord, she might be falling apart. Being indecisive and wishy-washy about everything wasn’t her style, yet she seemed too insecure to do anything about the things controlling her. She entered the family kitchen and found Grams. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”
    “Movies. Didn’t bother to ask me.”
    “Why didn’t you tell them you wanted to go?”
    Grams huffed. “Who wants to go outside? It’s freezing.”
    “Then what’s the problem?”
    “The problem is they didn’t ask.”
    “Maybe it was because they know you hate traipsing around in the cold.”
    “Just because I complain about it doesn’t mean I want to be left out. How’s my Mini behaving?”
    “It doesn’t like the cold either. Sometimes I have trouble getting it to start.”
    “Do you pump the gas pedal first?”
    “Yes.”
    Grams walked to the stove and twisted the knob. The gas burner came to life under a pot of stew. Madeleine soaked in the kitchen’s country ambiance. Roosters and palest of yellow walls began to ward off the bad thoughts and injustices at Computers That Run.
    Grams puttered around the kitchen, obviously in thought about her Mini and commented, “The thing never did like the cold.”
    “Like you, Grams.” She let one of Tamara’s suggested broad grins crease her cheeks grateful Grams had diverted her meltdown.
    “You have a good time on your date the other night with that Jess something?”
    “Grant. Jess Grant.”
    “Name’s familiar.”
    “He went to my high school.”
    “He know Danny?”
    “Knew of him, but didn’t know him.”
    “Of course not. You wouldn’t let anyone near the poor boy. Hoggin’ him to yourself.”
    “Good thing given our time together was short.”
    Grams clammed up giving Madeleine a chance to eat dinner. She hoped the food would help rid her of a relentless headache. Fat chance. The momentary short silence ended with loud clanging and banging of dishes. Grams unloading the dishwasher sounded like she threw the dishes into place. The noise stopped. “Can you take me Christmas shopping tomorrow night?”
    Madeleine pierced a carrot laden with rich gravy Grams called her specialty. Um, the stew tasted so good. She swallowed. “I thought you had all your shopping done.”
    “I do.”
    “Then why do you want to go?”
    “Bunko. The girls want to do a gift exchange.”
    “Sure. My boss is away tomorrow. Thank God,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’ll be home on time.” The kitchen clock read seven-thirty by the time she had gotten home and sat at the table.
    That evening Grams worked on a cross-stitch project and Madeleine did her best not to fall asleep in the recliner. The TV blared. She peeked at Grams from the corner of her eye. “Why not give one of your cross-stitch projects for the gift exchange?”
    “Can’t. Gave one last year.” Grams picked up the TV remote and flipped through channels, stopping at a bloody sword and club battle set in medieval times with scantily clothed warriors. “If men looked like that back then, it’s no wonder the population exploded.”
    Madeleine thought of Tiffany and her impending surprise pregnancy. Her husband fathered two kids in rapid succession without muscles or a massive chest. Danny would have too, if he’d come back to her. Danny definitely wasn’t the warrior hero type, yet he’d died protecting freedom. Then there was Jess. He definitely