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The timer on the stove screeched loudly, and Melinda hurriedly pulled open the door, only for black smoke to come belching out from the oven.
“Fuck,” she swore, quickly grabbing the oven mitt and pulling the baking tray out of the oven. The smoke drifted through the kitchen, activating the smoke detector, which of course, began loudly wailing. Melinda frowned as she opened the window to let the smoke out, sighing when the loud beeping finally stopped. She looked over at the island where the sad, still slightly smoking, black little lumps lay on the baking tray. She huffed and glared murderously at the awful looking cookies. They couldn’t even really be called cookies, they looked more like lumps of coal for a fire.
She was suddenly startled when she heard a crash just outside the kitchen, and then some loud giggling. Melinda frowned and stepped out the kitchen hurriedly, finding Phil collapsed amongst the knocked over coffee table. Thank goodness she’d moved the expensive antique vase her mother had given them earlier in the day, if that had happened, she’s not sure who her mother would end up hating more. Probably Phil, though, she already didn’t like him much.
“Whoopsie,” Phil giggled. His face was red and Melinda could smell alcohol on his breath.
“Phil! What the hell! Your mother is going to be here in a few hours and you got drunk?!” Melinda said angrily, helping her husband up and onto the couch before going and turning the coffee table back over.
“’M not drunk,” he giggled, “honest, Mel, I only had one glass of eggnog.”
Melinda frowned and glanced at Phil, who was staring up at her guilelessly. She went into the kitchen and took the eggnog from the fridge, pouring herself a small amount. She sipped it and winced. No wonder Phil had gotten drunk off one glass. Somehow, she must have added too much alcohol. Suddenly, she heard footsteps and looked up at Phil who’d stumbled into the kitchen. He looked at her with an extremely sad puppy dog look.
“You mad at me, Mel?”
Melinda sighed. This was a true disaster. The cookies were burnt and Phil was drunk off the eggnog she’d made, and she wasn’t sure if there was time to make more of anything. What a mess. Julie Coulson was like the ultimate homemaker and modern woman rolled into one. She’d managed to support both herself and Phil after his father had died by working long hours at the hospital, and still she’d raised Phil to be a genuinely wonderful human being. Melinda had tasted the results of her efforts in the kitchen, and she was not disappointed. Julie would probably be supremely unimpressed with Melinda’s own attempts at baking. At least dinner wouldn’t be a problem. Phil had already cooked the traditional Christmas dinner, but Melinda had insisted on making the cookies. She wanted to prove to her mother-in-law that she could be a good wife for her son, even if she wasn’t as skilled in the kitchen.
“No, Phil. I’m not mad at you. Why don’t you take some water and go lie down for a while, okay? You don’t want to be completely drunk when your mom gets here,” Melinda said with a sigh.
Phil nodded and pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips before stumbling out the kitchen.
Melinda sat at the counter with a sigh, putting her head in her hands. The back door suddenly slammed, and Melinda looked up to see Skye stepping out of her boots and hanging her coat by the door. Cap, their golden Labrador happily followed her, shaking out his snow logged coat.
“Hey Mel, what’s up?” the eleven year old asked as she hopped onto the stool next to the older woman.
Skye was Phil’s adopted daughter, and she’d taken to Melinda almost as soon as they’d been introduced. Melinda looked down at the young girl and sighed softly, raising her hand to brush Skye’s bangs out of her eyes.
“I burned the cookies and accidentally got your dad drunk, and your grandma’s due in about oh…two hours,” Melinda told her sadly. “How was Jemma’s house?”
Skye hummed softly. “Well, not much you can do about Dad being drunk, but I think I can help you with the cookies,” Skye told her as she hopped off the stool and began scraping the burnt cookies into the trash. She skipped to the fridge and began pulling out more butter and other ingredients.
“Jemma’s house was fun, her dad built her a whole treehouse! I mean, it was pretty awesome. I’d ask for one of those too, but we don’t have any trees tall enough,” she continued. “C’mon, let’s get these cookies done.”
“You know how to bake them?!”
“Sure, Dad taught me when I was about eight. I’m actually surprised that he didn’t show you how before, but I don’t mind teaching you now,” Skye said with a grin.
Melinda smiled and stood, going over to stand with Skye as she put butter and sugar to cream in the bowl together.
“Well, actually, it might have been me being too stubborn. He tried, but I thought it was such a simple recipe,” Melinda sighed.
Skye giggled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ‘em on my first try either. My dough looked more like pancake batter than cookie dough,” she said as she helped Melinda to sift flour. “Neither did Dad. He’d never tell you that, though. Thinks he’s so macho in the kitchen.”
Melinda laughed. “Then how’d you find out?”
“Grandma, of course! She says making terrible cookies is part of the tradition,” Skye said with a large beam.
Melinda smiled softly. Before she knew it, the cookies were in the oven, and she and Skye were giggling over hot chocolate after having washed up. Julie was due in a little under half an hour, and Melinda was just about to go check on Phil when he came into the kitchen holding his head and groaning.
“Ugh, I feel like I got run over by a truck,” he whined as he went into the cabinet for some aspirin.
“Grandma’s gonna be here soon, Dad, so I’d look alive,” Skye chirped.
Phil groaned, plopping himself in the chair next to hers.
“Mel, I love you, but you are never making the eggnog again,” he said.
Melinda blushed but rolled her eyes. “It’s your fault for being such a lightweight,” she teased.
“It’s your fault for making 100 proof eggnog!” he shot back.
Melinda grinned and kissed him shortly. “I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she replied, standing as the oven beeped.
This time when she opened the door, black smoke did not come belching out, rather, perfect golden cookies sat on the sheet. Melinda smiled in triumph as she set them on the counter. Phil looked up.
“Wow. They’re perfect,” he said with a smile.
“Skye helped me,” she replied, looking over at the girl. Skye beamed in return, before she heard the sound of the front door opening.
“Hello? Phillip? Melinda? Skye? I’m here!”
“Grandma!”
Skye bolted out of the kitchen and into the front hall, flinging herself on her grandmother.
“Ah, there’s my little munchkin,” Julie said as she hugged the eleven year old tightly. The two made their way into the kitchen, and Julie beamed as she set her eyes on her son and daughter-in-law.
“Hello Phillip,” she said as he bent to give her a hug and a kiss on her cheek.
“Hi, Mom,” he said with a smile.
Julie patted him on the back before turning to Melinda, pulling the slight woman in for a hug as well.
“Hello, Melinda, dear, it’s so good to see you,” she said.
“It’s good to see you too, Julie,” Melinda said with a smile.
“Who’s ready for dinner?”
XXX
Phil and Skye were quietly sitting in the corner, playing what seemed to be a very intense game of chess. Melinda was sat on the couch next to Julie, with Cap curled up next to her, his head resting in her lap. She absently stroked his head, lulling the furry creature into a sleepy state.
“The cookies were quite good,” Julie said, looking over at Melinda with a smile.
“I’m glad you liked them,” Melinda said, “Skye helped me.”
“First batch came out terrible?” Julie asked with a chuckle.
“More like the coal Santa puts in stockings,” Melinda replied with a grin.
“Ah, so the tradition continues. I’m so glad it’s with you, dear,” Julie told her, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands.
“Thank you. That means a lot to me, actually,” Melinda said sincerely.
“I know. I don’t think there’s anyone else that I’d rather see my son with,” Julie told her as she glanced over at where Skye was giggling uncontrollably. “You make him happy.”
“He makes me happy too. So does Skye,” Melinda told her.
“I know. And I’m so glad.”
“Merry Christmas, Julie.”
“Merry Christmas, Melinda, dear.”