"I don't have to be at the party until eight."
"A party?" Tilly repeated, grabbing bags of flour and sugar from the pantry.
"Yes, a Christmas party at the Keelers. He owns Gatsby's."
"Keeler? Somebody you went to school with?"
Alexis nodded as she retrieved the wooden spoon from the cutlery drawer. "I played soccer with his wife, Peyton."
"I never could keep up with all those names," Tilly admitted. "There were dozens of girls on your soccer team."
"It's not like you came to any games," Alexis pointed out.
"Only because you didn't want us to," Tilly protested. "Dad couldn't have because of his work schedule, but I could have arranged it with Morris."
Alexis didn't remember telling her mother not to come to games, but it certainly sounded like the kind of thing she'd have said. In her defense, she was a teenager. She didn't even like soccer all that much, but it was an excuse to be out of the house. Most of her after-school activities were motivated by a desire to avoid being at home. She'd never felt like she could be herself there; someone was always on hand to criticize her books or make her feel different from the rest of the family. Home for Alexis had never been the haven that it was meant to be.
Tilly turned up the Christmas classics while she read through the cake recipe.
"What would you like me to do?" asked Alexis.
"Let me see what's easy," she replied, scanning the recipe.
Alexis sighed. Deliberate or not, she was tired of the condescension. "I can do any of it, Mom. It won't be the first cake I've made."
Tilly raised an eyebrow. This was news to her. "Terrific. You can do the whisking for me."
She handed a mixing bowl and a whisk to Alexis before moving to the cupboard for ingredients.
"So how did you learn to bake?" Tilly asked.
"Someone taught me."
"Someone? You mean like those chefs that come to your house? I saw that on TV once. One of The Real Housewives, I think. I didn't recognize the names of half the ingredients she used. I mean, what's the big deal with gluten?"
"Moira, my mother-in-law," Alexis interjected. "That's who taught me."
Tilly stopped, her hand hovering mid-air, clutching a box of flour. Alexis knew this news would rattle her mother, but she felt the need to tell her anyway. Tilly placed the flour on the counter, her eyes burning a whole into the cardboard. She was afraid that if she looked at her daughter's face, she'd crumble.
"And when exactly did you acquire a mother-in-law?" Tilly asked calmly.