After Mary had been duly congratulated, it was time for some “down
time,” which meant that Margaret would start lunch preparations while the
others played games, read books, or worked on projects. Paula, who had been
uncharacteristically tired the night before, settled into the puffy brown easy
chair and was quiet—also unusual. Jon, always the attentive husband, went to
her side to make sure her feelings hadn’t been hurt or something. “Everything
okay, sweetheart?” he asked, squatting down and taking her hand.
“I just don’t feel very well,” she grimaced. “I decided I’d
better sit down and see if it passes. I don’t want to alarm anyone.” She
attempted a smile, but it wasn’t a heartfelt one; Jon could tell by the sadness
in her deep blue-green eyes. Paula hated to be sick, and she hated to miss out
on fun.
“You should go lie down,” Jon gently suggested.
“Maybe you’re right,” his wife surprisingly agreed, allowing
him to help her up. As Paula slowly headed toward the stairs, Jon reasoned that
she really must be feeling out of
sorts. But she was always so healthy. What could she have caught? He doubted it
was food poisoning. They’d only eaten his mother’s home-cooked provisions for
the past twenty-four hours. This was a puzzling turn of events indeed.
§
At
lunchtime, Jon went to fetch his wife, knowing his mother’s homemade
four-cheese pizza with onion confit base was one of her absolute favorites. He
stroked her hair, waking her up gradually. She confessed that she still didn’t
feel well but would try to rejoin the group. Once she got halfway down the
stairs, though, the strong cheese aromas took their toll. Paula raced back up
the stairs, hand over mouth, making it to the bathroom just in time.
Jon
explained to the family that Paula wasn’t feeling well and wouldn’t be joining
them for lunch. “What a shame,” lamented Margaret. “I wanted to talk to her
more about her ideas for a decorating business. And of course, I enjoy her
company. Hopefully she’ll feel better by evening.” Jon shrugged, meaning that
he hoped so too but recognized he had no control over such matters.
It
was just two days until Christmas, and the snow kept falling. The Wollersheim Winery would be giving a free wine and cheese tour
today, and Margaret had high hopes that everyone would want to go. All who were
present at the lunch table gave hearty agreement. Paula was the only question.
“It
starts at three o’clock, so we’d need to leave in about an hour,” Margaret directed.
“I don’t
think Paula will be able to go,” Jon offered sadly.
“I’ll go
up and talk to her,” Margaret determined, picking up a nearly-empty bowl of
parmesan and heading toward the kitchen. She had another reason as well.
§
Margaret
tapped lightly on the upstairs bedroom door and was greeted with a faint “Come
in.”
“Hello, dear. The rest of us are
getting ready to head to a wine and cheese event at Wollersheim. I’m thinking
you’ll probably stay here and rest, but I wanted to check on you.”
Paula, who would normally jump at the
chance to taste fine wines and cheeses, groaned a bit. “Oh, I’m sorry. That
doesn’t sound appealing at all at the moment. I guess I’d better stay behind.”
“Well, if you don’t mind me asking,
would you describe how you feel as ‘not really sick in the viral sense but more queasy?”
“Yeah, that pretty much describes it.
I don’t feel like I do when I have the flu, yet I’m so nauseous, I…” Paula
paused, beginning to realize where her mother-in-law was going with this.
Their eyes met, Margaret’s tender and
Paula’s more startled. “Well, if I had to guess—and though I’m no expert, I
have a bit of experience—I’d say you’re expecting.”
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