"Are you sure this is a good idea?" James asked. Marissa rolled her eyes as she flung the wad of dough onto the floured counter top and began flattening it with a rolling pin.
"James we have talked about this for weeks. Honestly I think it's the least we can do for her after what happened."
"I just want you to be safe," James explained. "And what is that noise?"
"I'm rolling out the dough for biscuits," Marissa told him, smiling proudly though she knew he couldn't see it.
"Well at least remember to set a timer this time."
"You're right. I will hang up with you so I can do that right now," Marissa threatened, grabbing the phone with a floured hand and yelling into the speaker bar.
"And what do you mean you want me to be safe? Mrs. Partridge is like ninety years old. What is she going to do? Glare at me?"
"I don't know, I'm just saying she is bound to be upset after what happened. The last thing we need is her spending Christmas in the ER cause you two got in a yelling match and gave her a heart attack."
"This isn't a yelling match, its an apology. You know that and it bothers me that you think I would invite her over to be yelled at."
James sighed loudly as Marissa set the phone back down on the counter and returned to her dough.
"You're right. I know you have good intentions. I think I'm just upset that I won't be able to be there," James admitted. "This was supposed to be our first Christmas together."
"I know, babe. I'm upset too. But the blizzard can't last forever. I'm sure there will be flights opening up again in a couple days."
"I hope so. I can't wait for you to see what I got you."
"I can't wait either," Marissa said, picking up the phone and taking James off speaker. "But I have to go now. I need to finish dinner and call Mrs. Partridge to make sure she is still coming."
"Alright well you two have fun. Let me know how it goes. Love you, babe," James said. Marissa smiled again and made kissing noises into the phone.
"Love you too. I'll see you soon."
Mrs. Partridge made her way across the kitchen to where the phone hung on the wall next to the sink. All her friends kept insisting she get a cell phone so she could keep it with her and not have to get up every time the phone rang but Mrs. Partridge knew better. She had heard what the radio waves from cell phones could do to your brain and she wasn't about to be another victim just for the sake of convenience.
"Hello, Deborah Partridge speaking. Who's calling please?"
She caught her breath as she waited for the voice on the other end of the phone to respond.
"Oh yes. Hello, Marissa. Yes I am still planning to come over for dinner."
Another silent pause.
"No, I don't need help. You live two doors down from me," Mrs. Partridge snapped. Why did young people seem to think she was helpless without them?
"5:30 is fine, yes. I will see you then."
Mrs. Partridge hung up the phone and walked over to the fridge. Opening the door, she reached in for a mint green Tupperware bowl with a clear plastic lid. Smiling down at it, she placed it on the kitchen table and closed the fridge.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for and she didn't even have to plan it. Marissa had done it all for her. This would certainly be a Christmas Eve to remember.
Marissa hurried to the door and flung it open. Mrs. Partridge stood there in a dark blue winter jacket and brown fuzzy boots. She held an ugly colored Tupperware bowl and her smile showed all the teeth she had left.
"Mrs. Partridge, so good to see you. Please come in," Marissa said, stepping to the side.
"Thank you, dear. It is nice to see you again as well," Mrs. Partridge answered, walking through the door.
"I brought some dessert for us," she said, holding the bowl out to Marissa. "Its pears from the tree in my backyard soaked in my own special syrup. It can be served cold or warm."
"I brought some dessert for us," she said, holding the bowl out to Marissa. "Its pears from the tree in my backyard soaked in my own special syrup. It can be served cold or warm."
Mrs. Partridge took off her coat and held it out to Marissa as well.
"That sounds amazing," she replied, awkwardly accepting the coat and trying to figure out how to hang it up in the closet while holding the Tupperware.
"Dinner is almost ready so if you want to take a seat at the table right through there, I will join you in just a moment."
Mrs. Partridge nodded and padded slowly down the hallway Marissa had indicated. As soon as she turned her back, Marissa set the bowl of pears on the floor and grabbed a hanger from the closet.
"I don't think I have ever been to your home before," Mrs. Partridge's voice echoed through the house from the dining room.
"You certainly do have interesting taste in wallpaper don't you?"
Marissa sighed quietly as she leaned over to pick up the bowl and wondered if James had been right and this was a mistake.
An hour later, after dinner and several glasses of wine, Marissa sat across from Mrs. Partridge trying her best to pay attention to her telling the story of how her raspberry preserves won a ribbon at the county fair ten years in a row.
"That is so fascinating," Marissa said, doing her best to seem impressed by Mrs Partridge's accomplishment.
"Yes, thank you," she replied. "It is one of the things I am most proud of along with my pears. Shall we have some now?"
"Most definitely," Marissa answered, happy for any excuse to leave the table and sneak another sip of wine.
"I will be right back."
Moments later Marissa returned to the table slightly more inebriated and holding two bowls full of pears and two spoons."
"Did you warm them or are they cold?" Mrs. Partridge asked, looking concerned.
"They are chilled still. Is that ok?"
"A good hostess would have asked her guest, but yes that is fine," Mrs. Partidge said, picking up her spoon.
Marissa collapsed into her chair with a sigh she made no effort to hide.
"Mrs. Partridge, I asked you over here for dinner but also to make amends for something," Marissa admitted, taking a bite into a slice of pear. It was soft and the syrup made it extra sweet.
"I am aware of the unfortunate occurrence on Halloween and the inadvertent part I played in it and I wanted to-" Marissa paused as she chewed on her second slice of pear. There was an itch in her throat. She coughed lightly and continued.
"I wanted to apologize for-"
Marissa coughed again and dropped her spoon onto the table. The itch was back in her throat and it felt like it was beginning to swell.
"What did you want to apologize for?" Mrs. Partridge asked, sitting calmly across the table with her hands folded.
Marissa shook her head and pointed helplessly at her throat which was growing tighter and tighter by the moment.
"Oh my dear, you seem to be having some terrible allergic reaction. I hope it wouldn't have anything to do with the almond extract I put in the syrup. You're not allergic to almonds are you?"
Marissa's eyes widened and she nodded.
"Well that is a shame, isn't it? Were you aware that much like almonds are a poison to your body, chocolate is poison to a dog's? My dog for example who, because she didn't know any better, ate the whole plate of brownies you left sitting on your porch for the children on Halloween. Did you know that?" Mrs. Partridge hissed, pushing back her chair and getting to her feet.
Marissa sat there, clutching her throat trying desperately to remember where she'd put her Epi-Pen and Benadryl.
"Greta was my baby. She was the only thing in this world I had left to love and you took her from me," Mrs. Partridge cried, pointing a bony accusatory finger at Marissa.
"She is dead now because of you. And so now you get what you deserve."
Marissa reached out helplessly to Mrs. Partridge but the old woman just stood there looking down at her with an evil glare. Marissa collapsed onto the table struggling for breath until finally she was still.
Mrs. Partridge stood over her lifeless body and grinned with satisfaction. Finally she had her revenge. Marissa had taken the thing she loved most and now she had paid for it.
"I had no idea she was allergic to almonds," Mrs. Partridge said out loud to nobody. She smiled, satisfied with how convincing it sounded. The police would never suspect a nice old lady.
As she walked through the house looking for a phone, Mrs. Partridge heard a strange noise like a high pitched whine. She adjusted her hearing aids and listened again. The noise was still there and it seemed to be coming from the living room.
Mrs. Partridge made her way in there and scanned the whole room. A tall tree covered in golden lights and small red ornaments stood in the corner and the noise seemed to come from right underneath it. Confused, she walked over to the tree and looked around. She jumped back suddenly as the noise happened again and one of the boxes under the tree began to shake.
Warily, she took several steps back as the package began to move more and more and then the lid popped off and out jumped a fluffy golden puppy. Its little tail wagged furiously and it barked and yipped happily at seeing Mrs. Partridge.
The old woman stood there stunned as the puppy ran over to her and jumped up, biting at the hem of her red Christmas dress. It ran over to the lid of the box, grabbed it in its teeth and pulled it to Mrs. Partidge as if wanting to play tug-of-war.
She bent down and snatched the lid from the puppy's mouth. It had a sticker on it shaped liked a wreath and "To: Mrs. Partridge" was written in green ink. She felt her stomach sink and she flopped down onto the couch. The puppy jumped up next to her and excitedly licked at her face.
"What have I done?" she asked it, as tears welled in her eyes. "She had me over to apologize and I-" Mrs. Partridge stopped mid-sentence, unable to say out loud what she had done.
No, she could not sit here and wallow. Marissa had given her this animal to take care of and it was her responsbility now. She continued to let the tears flow as she pushed herself up from the couch and continued her search for a phone.
"Hello, 911," she practiced, making sure her voice sounded as sad as she could make it. "Yes, there is a young lady here and I think she is having an allergic reaction. No, she is not breathing. Yes, she may be dead."
