Chapter 1 

Tina/Laurel pic

It all began on New Year’s Day, in my 29th year of being single…

Once again, I find myself on my own, and going to my mother’s annual turkey curry buffet at my parent’s house.

Every single year she tries to fix me up with some varnish-haired, strait-laced bore, and I fear this year will be no exception. Yet here I am again, all bundled up, entering into Mum’s house.

"There you are, dumpling." 

I can hear her emphasis of the word ‘dumpling‘, gee thanks.  Ah, that’s my mum, Phyllis – a strange creature with a will of iron.  Actually, ‘stainless steel’ is more like it. She even had my father change our family name from Kroll to Kennard (which means ’strong’, btw) just because some olde English tale defined ’krolls’ as butt scars left from a sword bruise.  Marriage or no, she had no intention of anyone making her any kind of butt! 

Geez, maybe I can talk Dad into sneaking out to the porch, and hang with him all night?

My musings are interrupted as Mum & Dad’s odd neighbor, Jenny, strolls over, "Any doilies, Phyllis?.. Oh hello, Tina."  Oh swell, it seems Jenny has volunteered to help Mum again.

"Third drawer from the top, Jenny.  Under the mini gherkins."  Turning back to me, Mum continues, "By the way, the Porters are back in town.  And they’re here already, and they’ve brought Bette with them."

Rolling my eyes I think ~Ah, here we go…~.

"You remember Bette, dear.  You used to play in her paddling pool. She’s grown up to be a barrister, you know.   Very well off…"

I jump in: "No, I don’t remember her, Mum.  I was four…"

"She’s divorced now, apparently. Her wife was a politician. A very cruel race."
Giving me the once over she continues, " Now, what are you going to put on?"

I look down at my jeans & pullover, "Just this."

"Oh, don’t be silly, Tina.  You’ll never get a girlfriend if you look like you’ve just wandered in off the docks. Now, run upstairs – I’ve laid out something lovely on your bed."

Holding in a groan, I head for the stairs.

~~~

As I plod my way back down to the hall, I hear Dad’s sound system switch to someone singing ”You’re just too good to be true… Can’t take my eyes off of youuu…”.  Great.  Just as I am wearing carpet samples.  Maybe Mum truly did make this top and skirt out of big flowered rug bits?  It certainly looks it, and Mum Phyllis does think she has the artistic eye, regardless of what anyone else says.  Her little pickles-on-a-pick appetizers show that well enough.