November 1, 2005

• [Additional verbiage added]   Ahem.  Okay, here's what I've got so far.  It's not much,
  what with picking up Dmitry from school, and fixing him a snack, and
  talking to the BSF leader, but it's something.  The title of the
  story is "Mercy, Maud!" and the main character is, as you might guess,
  a middleaged woman named, duh, Maud. 

  The opening of Chapter One:

  "No.  Absolutely not. 
  You must be kidding."  The speaker glared balefully at the other
  person in the kitchen, an attractive young woman who blithely ignored
  the unfriendly look aimed her way.  She smiled ingratitatingly as
  she pushed a strand of long blonde hair behind an ear, and prepared
  herself for a selling job.
  
  
  
  "Now, Aunt Maud, don't be like
  that.  You haven't even met the man, for heaven's sake! 
  Surely you aren't going to reject him without even meeting him?" she
  scolded lightly.  Maud, a woman who middle age had firmly in its
  grip, shook her head as she turned her attention back to the cookies
  she was making.  With practiced ease she pinched off a bit of
  dough from the bowl in front of her, formed it into a ball, dumped it
  on the cookie sheet, then poked a depression in it with her
  thumb. 
  
  
  
  "Rejecting him before I meet him
  is easier on his ego than rejecting him after I've met him," Maud
  pointed out as she rolled another cookie between her fingers. 
  "And it's not personal.  It's just his name."
  
  
  
  Though Val had foreseen the
  proposed suitor's name being a problem, she chose to act
  surprised.  "His name?  Now really, Aunt Maud, that's not
  fair.  He can hardly help his name, after all," reaching out to
  nip off a bit of cookie dough for herself.  Her aunt shooed her
  halfheartedly with one hand - she'd been sneaking a few tastes herself
  - as her other hand dropped the ball on the sheet, and punched in the
  depression.  Hard.
  
  
  
  "Claude?  Are you seriously
  suggesting a woman named Maud go out with a man named Claude? 
  Maud and Claude?  We'd sound like a vaudeville act," she
  snorted.  "It was bad enough with your Uncle Jeff, as Maud and
  Jeff were too close to Mutt and Jeff, based on the cheap jokes we heard
  over the years.  'Maud and Claude' would be much, much
  worse."  Rapidly she made another cookie and viciously stabbed at
  it with her thumb.

  Val thoughtfully regarded her aunt, as she realized getting her aunt to
  agree to meet Claude may be a trifle trickier than expected.  Oh
  sure, she'd expected some resistance . . . it hadn't been that long
  since her uncle's unexpected death . . . and it was definitely a pity
  about the rhyming names, but she just knew the two would hit it
  off.  Absently helping herself to another small hunk of cookie
  dough, Val mentally flipped through possible arguments and enducements
  rejecting all but the most basic.

  "Thing is," she said coaxingly, "Claude's new in town.  He only
  arrived a couple of weeks ago, and would love to meet someone he can
  relax with."  That was good.  Very, very good.  She
  can't claim he doesn't know anyone, after all, but it's true he can't
  relax with them.  If it makes him sound lonely, well, it's not her
  fault if her aunt draws an unwarranted conclusion.  The hook was
  baited, now all she could do is wait and see if the fish bit. For
  several seconds there was silence as Maud pinched, rolled and punched
  dough.

  "Where's Claude from?" Maud finally asked.  "How long has he been here?  Where does he work?"

  Val casually looked out the kitchen window, not wanting her aunt to see
  the triumph she was feeling.  Fishing is such a satisfying
  endeavor.  "I believe I heard he's from the Knoxville area, and he
  arrived maybe a month ago.  Do you have any of that peach tea you
  make, Aunt Maud?  May I have some?" she asked quickly, hoping to
  provide a diversion away from her aunt's questions.

  Having finished rolling the cookies, Maud hefted the Pampered Chef
  stoneware baking sheet in one hand while opening the oven door with the
  other.  "I think there's some left in the fridge; help
  yourself.  What did you say he does for a living?"

  Val sighed inwardly, knowing there was no way to avoid answering. 
  She took the time while getting a glass of tea to weigh her
  words.  This plus The Name?  Careful treading was required.

  "Gee, let me think.  What. Does. He. Do.  Someone told me . .
  . if only I can remember!"  Stalling for time, Val frantically
  cast around for a way to soften the truth a little.  Maud, the
  baking sheet safely in the oven, had begun melting chocolate chips and
  shortening in a small saucepan.  "Aren't you supposed to do that
  in a double boiler?" Val asked, attempting yet another red herring.

  Maud never had cared much for fish.  "Technically, yes, but I've
  never done that in my life.  So what is it Claude does?"  She
  raised her head and looked pointedly at her niece, who sipped at her
  tea before answering.

  "Oh yes, I remember now," Val said brightly.  Maud rolled her eyes
  a bit as she returned her attention to the saucepan of chocolate. 
  "As a matter of fact . . . Aunt Maud, you are going to think this is
  SUCH a coincidence! . . .
  he'sthenewassociatepastoratthebiblechurchacrosstown" she finished in a
  rush.

  A deep, profound silence settled on the kitchen.  An extended
  deep, profound silence.  For several seconds the only sound was of
  the wooden spoon gently scraping along the sides of the pan.

  "Say that again," Maud instructed softly.  Val swallowed
  nervously.  Her aunt at her softest was her aunt at her most
  dangerous.

  "Uh, I said he's the new associate pastor at . . ." then jumped when
  Maud banged the spoon against the edge of the pan, sending melted
  chocolate flying like rain drops.

  "I heard you the first time!  Are you insane?  Are you
  mad?  Have you taken leave of whatever senses you ever possessed?"
  Holding the spoon like a weapon, Maud stalked toward her niece, who
  heartily wished she'd never gotten embroiled in this in the first
  place.  Val edged around the kitchen island.

  "Now, Aunt Maud, don't be like that.  My goodness, you make him
  sound like a serial killer or something!  What's so wrong with him
  being a pastor?  Uncle Jeff was a pastor, after all, and you were
  happy with him, right?"  Desperately she checked the wall clock,
  hoping to find it was time  -  past time, even  - 
  for her to collect her daughter at school.  No such luck. 
  There was still a solid half hour to go, which her aunt knew.

  Maud stopped, sighed, stuck the spoon back in the chocolate then
  reached for paper towels to clean up the splatters.  "Yes, Val,
  your uncle was indeed a pastor, and yes, I was happy with him, but no,
  I've not the slightest intention of getting involved with one
  again.  Once was enough, believe me."
  
  =================================
  That's as far as I've gotten, and Dmitry's hanging around, anxious to
  get at the computer.  Hint:  Claude isn't going to be any
  more enthusiastic about meeting Maud. 

  • 5:53 pm
  • 24 Comments