Page 20 of Lessons in Lemonade

“You golf?” she asks, but somehow I feel like she already knows.

“With my dad, yeah. It’s become our thing. Besides, it’s a game, and I love to play games.”

“Yeah, my aunt loves it. I’m not very good it at, although I’ve tried. Every chance she gets, she’s on the greens, which is why I don’t ever see her leaving the south. She loves it there.”

“Cousins?” I ask.

“Yep. My cousins both decided they preferred the mountain life and moved to Denver, so it’s just me and her mostly.”

I find myself wanting to say, And me.

“What about you? How did you get into playing football?” she asks as she reaches for one of the throw pillows on the end of the couch and pulls it into her lap.

“Do you want the media told story, or the real story?”

“Is that even a question?” Her eyes sparkle, and considering what she just shared with me, I know it’s truth time.

I chuckle, and she hugs the pillow.

“My dad worked a lot. He was never big on showing emotions, but one thing he loved was football. I know he loves me, but in my ten-year-old mind, if I played football, he would love me more. What boy doesn’t want to be adored by his dad? So, that’s how it all started, and well, I was good at it. I’ve never looked back.”

She hums as she thinks, twisting her lips. “If you weren’t playing football, what would you be doing?” She lays her head to the side and on my arm, which is stretched out across the back of the couch.

“Oh, isn’t that a loaded question? If you weren’t cooking, what would you be doing?” My fingers tangle more in her hair.

She grins. “I asked you first.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I know I should have thought about it, or I should be thinking about it—after all, this can’t last forever—but I’ve been smart with my money, so when the time comes, I’ll have space to figure it out.”

I’ve been real smart with my money, and fortunately for me, so far I’ve been able to play for ten years. I have a good chunk of change set aside, saved, and invested. Wherever I land next, I’m going to be just fine.

“I think I’m fortunate that there’s never going to be a situation where I won’t be able to cook. Even if I didn’t have the restaurant, I could have my own catering business, or work as a chef for someone who believes in my vision. You know?”

“Have you ever wanted to live anywhere other than Charleston?”

“No. It’s my home. I’m a Southern girl through and through. I can’t imagine ever being anywhere else.”

I’ve never been to Charleston, have never had a reason to go—at least not until now. The only college near there is The Citadel, and the closest professional football team is the Carolina Wildcats up in Charlotte.

“I’ve never really been attached to one single place. Don’t get me wrong, I love living in Tampa, and right now it is exactly where I’m supposed to be, but Tampa will most likely not be my forever city. I can’t tell you where it will be, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“Hmm,” she responds just before letting out a huge yawn. I’m reminded that it’s super late and both of us have to get up early to head home.

Scooting closer to her, I wrap my arm around her shoulders to draw her in. We both stretch out our legs and fall into a comfortable silence. She lays her head against me, and I rest mine on top of hers. I already knew being friends with her was going to be awesome, but I didn’t expect to feel this level of comfort with her.

Pulling out my phone, I set my alarm just in case and snap a picture of our feet with the fire blurred in the background. Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost our shoes; my socks are navy with turkeys on them—yes, they were a big hit today—and hers are cream-colored, thick, and fluffy-looking.

She lifts her head and opens her eyes at the sound of the click. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture for tomorrow. Look.” I turn the screen toward her. “It’s a nice photo.”

She stares at the image for a few moments and is silent. Then she lays her head back down, closes her eyes, and says, “It is a nice picture.”

Bread Pudding with Bourbon Sauce

IT’S IN THE fifties today, and the weather is overcast with low-hung dark clouds and a steady breeze. I imagine for most it’s not the most ideal weather for Christmas Day, but I love it. Somehow it makes the lights twinkle brighter, the poinsettias appear bolder in color, and delicious flavors like peppermint and fir linger in the air. It may be damp outside, but that makes it even cozier and more nostalgic inside. I can’t imagine it being more perfect.

Well, almost perfect. It would be nice to have someone here with me, but I’m good by myself. As an only child, I always have been. It’s relaxing, and I’m free to do exactly what I want. I’m still wearing my pajamas, I don’t have a stitch of makeup on, and in the background the Hallmark Channel is on. Candles are lit around the house, and I’m doing my favorite thing: cooking.