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"It's probably better if I do something a little less important," Maggie tried to persuade the well-meaning "gravy aunt."  "Very well, but you should know that gravy is one of Sam's most favorite things in the whole world. I can't imagine him marrying someone who can't make gravy properly." She turned to the stove to the gravy she had already started making. |
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| "Oh, JoAnn, you be quiet. Just because nobody would eat your gravy after it gave us all the runs during Christmas of '86 doesn't mean you should give the poor girl a hard time." The chopping
aunt crossed the kitchen, wine glasses and a huge green bottle of screw-top wine in hand. "Coming through." Two figures clad in black t-shirts and army fatigues darted around her and headed for the basement stairs, bounding down them two at a time. "Aunt Carol and the kids are here," a petite aunt in the corner commented without looking up. "Here, dear. I think we could all use some wine. Would you do the honors?" Maggie smiled a weak smile and set up a wine-pouring station on the table. More... |
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