Because I Am Furniture by Thalia Chaltas

The sourdough bread Arlette would bake that very morning anyone who entered the house would be met with the mouthwatering aroma. Everything freshly prepared, nothing acquired ready-made from a food store or the farmers’ market. A green salad of romaine lettuce, Boston lettuce, fresh basil. Appetizers, entrées, desserts were roiling fevers in her blood.Ī summer buffet meant cold things: platters of sliced turkey breast, Virginia ham, roast beef. Kevin laughed at her-she’d become so fixated on food. Frequently, she woke from dreams of food, guests, weather.

Since she’d first set the date for her niece’s reception, Arlette had had difficulty sleeping. Thunder in the distance like a sound of rolling barrels, lightning, walls of quick pelting rain, then within an hour rays of sun breaking through the darkened sky, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. But, in Strykersville, storm clouds could take shape within minutes. Midmorning, the sky was pale and featureless, no rain clouds in sight. It had been a season of squalls and rainstorms.

They would be huddling beneath dripping tents, instead of spreading out over the lawn, where banks of bridal wreath and crimson peonies were blossoming. On the kitchen wall calendar, June 23rd was circled in red marker like an exploding nebula.Īnd now rain was forecast for late afternoon. In the back yard, the boys helping their father to set up rental tents, tables, and folding chairs.įorty-eight guests! For weeks, Arlette had been anticipating this day. Mother and daughter working as a team in the kitchen. She wasn’t that kind of mother.Įarly that morning, Arlette had enlisted Evie to help her prepare food for an outdoor reception that she was hosting, to celebrate a niece’s engagement.

Because I Am Furniture by Thalia Chaltas