The Mother-in-Law

by Modglin, Kiersten

  “Coralee?” I called, when she didn’t answer after a few knocks. I hoped she wasn’t napping. I waited a moment longer, trying to decide whether or not to walk away, when the door finally swung open.

  “Is everything okay?” she asked, her voice out of breath. She had a heavy robe wrapped around her body, her hand clutching the slit of it so her chest wouldn’t be revealed. She appeared frazzled, and her room smelled strongly of lavender and sage. I paused. Was she just lying around my house…naked?

  “Yes, of course,” I said finally, shoving the thought from my brain. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. Um, Rynlee and I have to run to town, to my store, to give one of the employees a lunch break. Jack’s gone to work, too. I wanted to see if you’d like to join us?” The end of my sentence was an octave higher than the rest as I tried to decide if the question was a mistake. I wanted to make an effort to show her I cared, but I felt like a child speaking to her, waiting to be scolded. What was it about her that made me feel that way?

  Her lips upturned slightly, though the smile didn’t reach her eyes, and she bowed her head. “Yes, I’d love to. What a great idea. Let me just get changed really quickly. You’ve caught me in the middle of a nap.”

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s fine. We’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready.” With that, she shut the door and I made my way back down the stairs.

  “Rynlee, come on, baby. Come get your jacket,” I called, helping my daughter pick up the toys from the floor. When we were done, I put her jacket on and locked Merlin behind the baby gate in the laundry room.

  Then, we waited.

  And waited.

  Half an hour went by as I paced the floor, trying to keep my child occupied while she squirmed and begged to drag her toys back out. As we neared forty-five minutes, I made my way back toward the stairs.

  “Coralee? Everything okay?” I called, trying to keep the agitation from my voice.

  “Come on, Mommy!” Rynlee whined, hanging on my arms and trying to pull me toward the door.

  “Hang on, baby,” I told her for the hundredth time. “We’re going to leave soon, I promise.” I looked back up the stairs. “Coralee?”

  When she didn’t answer, I scooped up my daughter, carrying her up the stairs and toward my new mother-in-law’s room once more. Two flights of stairs later, I knocked carefully. “Coralee? Is everything okay in there?”

  “Yes it is. Why do you ask, dear?” came her immediate response through the door.

  I shook my head in confusion. “Well, I thought we were getting ready to leave. My employee will be needing her break soon.”

  “Right, right,” she said, and I heard her feet moving across the hardwood floors. Finally, she opened the door, still in her robe. “Sorry, dear, I’m looking for something to wear. It’ll just be another minute.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “O-okay,” I said, trying to determine what words would sit well with either of us. “Are you sure? I don’t mean to rush you, it’s just that I’ll need to give my employee lunch soon. It’s almost one, and she’s been there all morning.”

  She huffed. “Yes, yes, so you’ve said. Just a minute. I can’t very well get dressed with my door standing wide open, now can I?” With that, the door was shut in my face and I glanced down at my daughter.

  “She’s grumpy, isn’t she, Mommy?” she asked, a crooked little grin on her face.

  I grimaced and pulled her back from the door, bending down so I could whisper in her ear. “You shouldn’t say things like that, okay? Just in case she were to hear you and get her feelings hurt.” I rested my forehead on hers to assure her she wasn’t in trouble. “But you’re right.” She nodded, but didn’t say another word.

  Several minutes later, I heard Coralee making her way down the stairs. When she arrived on the first floor, she stood in front of us, wearing a velvet jacket over black slacks. “Are you ready, then?”

  I gave her a stiff nod, hoping my smile looked genuine. “Let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into the store’s parking lot. The car ride had been a quiet one. Despite Rynlee’s request for music, Coralee had insisted on riding in silence due to what she called a monstrous headache.

  I removed Rynlee from her car seat and set her on her feet in front of the door, watching her bound into the shop and straight for Becky’s arms, while I held the door open for Coralee. She glanced around and, to my surprise, there was a grin on her face.

  “Why, this is a cute little shop you have.” She looked across the store, her eyes dancing around the room before landing on me. “You own this?”

  I nodded. “I do, with my cousin, Meredith.”

  “And this is Meredith?” she asked, holding her hand out to Becky. Suddenly, she was ever so charming.

  “No. This is Becky,” I informed her. “Our employee.” Then, I addressed Becky, “Becky, this is Coralee. My mother-in-law.”

  Becky nodded at Coralee. “Nice to meet you.”

  Coralee released her hand. “You too.”

  Finally, it was my turn to speak, “I’m sorry we were late. How’s everything been here?”

  “Fine,” she drawled. “We sold out of the tulips and daisies, but Meredith has been ordering extra, so I think we’ll be okay when the shipment gets here in the morning. Oh, and we sold two more of Meredith’s purses. She’ll be pleased.”

  I looked over to the flower counter, delighted to see she was right. “Well, I guess those few days of being closed didn’t hurt us too badly, then, did it?” I moved over to the desserts. “How are we doing on these?”

  “We haven’t sold too much,” she said. “A few cookies here and there, but I don’t think we’ve sold any of the brownies all week. The pies seem to do well, but it’s hit or miss.”

  I nodded. “Okay, well, if nothing else it’s all market research, right?”

  “Do you want me to keep making them, or…?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know.” It’d been Meredith’s idea to start making the desserts, and I hated the thought of nixing her plan without talking to her first. “Let’s keep it up another week, especially what you see actually selling, but—no!” I screamed, lunging forward as Rynlee’s hand reached for a pie sitting near the edge. My sudden outburst seemed to scare her, and she stepped back, her bottom lip quivering as her eyes filled with tears. I lifted her to my chest, pressing her head into my neck as my heart thudded with fear. “What have we said about these?” I asked, the question directed at Becky.

  She stared at the pie, trying to understand what had upset me, and I pointed at the peanut symbol on the front.

  “I’m sorry, Loren. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how that one got up front. I’m always so careful.” She rushed around to the front of the counter and stared at the desserts. “See, they’re all in the back except that one. A customer must’ve moved it to the front.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” I calmed slightly as I looked Rynlee over. “I’m sorry I scared you,” I told my daughter. When I looked back at Becky, I said, “I didn’t mean to freak out. We should’ve never tried to make anything peanut butter in the first place. Rynlee’s here too much to chance it. I’ll make sure Meredith takes it off the list. After this batch, don’t make anymore. When you close up tonight, let’s throw it out. There have been one too many close calls for me.”

  Coralee stepped back into my line of vision; she’d been so quiet perusing the store I’d almost forgotten she was there. “For goodness sake, what is going on?” she demanded. “What’s the matter?”

  “Rynlee is very allergic to peanuts,” I explained. “And she almost pulled a pie down. Even a little bit on her skin could send her into anaphylactic shock.”

  She narrowed her gaze at my daughter. “How terrible.”

  “Everything’s okay,” I said, kissing her head. “It was just a little scare.” I looked at Becky, who was still staring wide-eyed at the table, her haunted expression showing she felt the weight of what al
most happened. “It wasn’t your fault,” I reiterated. “These things can’t always be helped. Let’s just set this back here,” I placed the peanut butter pie at the back of the counter, “ and you can go on ahead to lunch.”

  She nodded, still looking upset. “I’m really sorry, again. I would’ve never forgiven myself if—”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I should’ve been keeping a closer eye on things. You’ve been the only one here when Meredith and I are usually around to help you out.” I touched her hand. “I appreciate you stepping up when we’ve needed you.”

  With that, the last of her worry seemed to fade and she smiled back, squeezing Rynlee’s arm playfully. “I’m always happy to help. I’ll be back in half an hour,” she said, disappearing out the front door.

  When she left, Coralee huffed, staring after her. “Incompetent help never did anyone any good, Loren. You’ll do good to recognize that.”

  “Oh, Becky’s not incompetent. It was an honest mistake,” I told her. “She’s been with us since we opened, and truly, I don’t think we’d still be open without her.”

  Her expression was stiff; I could see she didn’t agree. “An honest mistake might be all it takes next time.”

  Without another word, she went back to evaluating the store, and I moved around behind the counter with Rynlee to begin going over the books. I tried to put what she’d said to the back of my mind, but it’d be a lie to say it ever truly left. What if she was right?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Loren

  The rest of the week was surprisingly calm. Despite Coralee’s presence in the house, we hardly saw her. When dinner was made, she’d request to eat alone in her room, and with her bathroom and bedroom conjoined, it didn’t seem she ever planned to leave.

  So, on Sunday when I came into the kitchen to the smell of bacon sizzling on the stove, I was shocked to find her there—spatula in hand.

  “C-Coralee?” I asked, wrapping my robe tighter around me.

  “I thought you’d gone out.” She turned to see me, her eyes wide for a moment before the shock wore off.

  “Why would you think that?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “The car left this morning,” she said simply, turning back to her bacon.

  “It did?” I glanced over my shoulder out the window, though I couldn’t see the spot where the car should’ve been from there. “I assumed Jack was down here.” I pulled my phone from my robe pocket, but the screen was blank. “He didn’t say where he was going?”

  “Shouldn’t you know that? He’s your husband.”

  I tried to ignore the comment, though I couldn’t deny the fresh sting I felt on my skin. She was right. I should know. It wasn’t like him to just disappear. Distracting me from my thought, I heard little footsteps rushing down the hallway. I stepped out of the kitchen so I could see her coming.

  “I got it, Ms. Coralee,” Rynlee yelled, holding an apron in the air as she rushed toward me. “Good morning, Mommy!”

  “Good morning, sweetheart. What have you got there?” I bent down as she neared me, taking the cloth from her hand. “Your apron?” The apron was white with a pink rolling pin on the front and in silver script, it read Mini Chef. It had been a gift from Meredith a few Christmases back.

  “Mhm, Ms. Coralee was going to let me cook with her, but she said a lady should always have an apron in the kitchen.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do you have an apron, Mommy?”

  I forced a smile and ruffled her hair. “No, I don’t, sweetie. Mommy will have to get one someday.”

  “You can borrow mine,” she informed me, “but not today.” With that, she rushed past me and into the kitchen. I followed her, scrolling through my recent calls to find Jack’s name.

  Just as I found it, I caught a distinct smell wafting through the kitchen. A smell that had never been allowed in my home.

  “Peanut butter?” I whispered, glancing around. Then, louder, “Coralee, do you have peanut butter?”

  She nodded in the direction of the oven underneath her. “I made cookies,” she said. “Rynlee was going to help me cut them once they’re done.” She grinned at my daughter. “Show her the cookie cutter you’ve picked out.”

  “She can’t be around peanut butter, Coralee, I’ve told you that,” I said angrily, scooping up my daughter and pulling her away from the stove. “Even just a good enough amount in the air or on her skin could cause a reaction. She could die!”

  Coralee turned away from her pan completely, staring at me with wide, innocent eyes. “I had no idea, Loren. I’m sorry.”

  “I told you at the store the other day,” I argued. “If you’d let her cut them with you, she would’ve gone into shock. Do you understand how serious all of this is? How did you even get peanut butter into the house?”

  “I went to the store a few nights ago when I couldn’t sleep,” she said, “and I don’t remember you telling me this. If you did—”

  “I did.” I pointed at the stove. “Turn it off. We have to throw it out. All of it. The peanut butter, too.”

  “That seems extreme,” she began. “I can keep it in my room away from Rynl—”

  “This is my house!” I screamed at her, my resolve completely lost. “And you will not have anything in it that could endanger my daughter.”

  I heard the front door slam, and we both turned to look in its direction when I heard Jack’s voice.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, entering with a paper sack in his arms.

  “Where were you?” I demanded.

  “Mom asked me to go and get some flour and butter. We were out.” He pulled a few things from the sack to prove a point. “Why? What happened?”

  I glared at Coralee. “You asked him to go? And then you thought I went with him and you made peanut butter cookies for Rynlee?”

  “You did what?” Jack asked, the weight of the situation clear in his tone.

  “I didn’t know the child was allergic,” Coralee said. “You’re making me out to be a monster here when my only crime is trying to get to know my new grandchild.” She reached behind her and flipped off the stove. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or endangered your daughter, but I’ve only just met the both of you. You can’t expect me to know everything about you already. And she’s fine—”

  “Because I came down here and stopped it before you could feed them to her.”

  Jack put a hand on my arm to calm me. “She didn’t know, Lor. I know it’s terrifying, but she didn’t.”

  “She did!” I argued. “I told her. I told her earlier this week.”

  She shook her head. “I’m an old woman, Loren. My mind isn’t as sharp as yours. If you did tell me, I must’ve forgotten.”

  “You can’t forget this!” I said, pulling Rynlee’s head into mine.

  “Okay,” Jack said, his voice louder than both of ours. “Okay, let’s all just calm down. It was a mistake, but we caught it. Mom,” he looked at her seriously, “you cannot bring peanut butter into the house. Ever. Rynlee’s allergy is serious. Tell me you understand that.”

  “I do, of course I do. It’ll never happen again.” She glanced at me, but there was no apology in her eyes. “My mother…had dementia. She died from it when I was young. My memory isn’t what it once was, but…I don’t think it’s that.” She shook her head, disagreeing with herself. “No. It’s not. It can’t be.” She looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes. “I think I’ll just head up to my room again. This argument has taken so much out of me.” She placed the back of her hand on her forehead, feigning exhaustion as she walked from the room without another word. When her footsteps had grown faint enough I was sure she couldn’t hear us, I faced my husband.

  “Jack,” I said, my head shaking. I needed him to believe me. I needed him to see my side.

  He pulled Rynlee and me into a hug, rubbing my back. “I’m so sorry,” he said, kissing the side of my head. “I’m so sorry. I’d never forgive myself if—” He cut the sentence short, unable
to say it just as much as I felt unable to think it.

  “Why would she do this?” I asked him, pulling away so I could meet his eyes. Before he could answer, I walked from the room and into the dining room, pulling out a coloring book and a few crayons for Rynlee. “Here, baby, you color with this while Mommy cleans up, okay?”

  She nodded, her sideways glances toward me showing she was still shaken up by the interaction she’d witnessed, and she began to flip through the book for the perfect page. Once she was distracted, I turned back to my husband, taking his arm and pulling him out of the room. I stood so I could still keep a good eye on Rynlee, but not close enough she could hear our whispers.

  “I don’t think it could’ve possibly been on purpose, Loren. She wouldn’t have…” He trailed off. “She’s not in her right mind right now. And she’s getting older, she forgets things. You heard what she said about her mother having dementia. It’s something she’s always worried about.”

  “Do you really believe she’s sick? You’ve never mentioned her having issues with memory before.”

  “She hasn’t,” he said thoughtfully. “Not that I remember.”

  “She can’t…she can’t forget something like that, Jack. And she thought I was going to be gone with you—and she didn’t mention that you’d gone to do a favor for her in the first place—what if we’d both been gone, Jack? Rynlee’s EpiPen is in my purse. We have a spare locked under the sink that Meredith and Sarah know about, but your mother wouldn’t have. She would’ve…she wouldn’t have made it. This can’t happen again…” I was nearing hysterics, my vision blurring with tears as I realized just how close I’d come to losing everything.

  “It won’t,” he promised. “I won’t let it.”

  “I need to get the peanut butter out of the house,” I said, the smell of it making me nauseous with worry.

  “No,” he said, taking my hand to stop me. “I’ll take care of it. You take Rynlee outside to play for a bit, and I’ll clean everything and get it outside in the garbage.”