Page 24 of No Time for Traditions

“Yes!” He raised his fists in victory and grabbed the spoon, raking every drop of cake batter left in the bowl.

Brittany laughed as she watched him. She remembered how much she loved licking Sarah’s homemade cake batter and icing remains as a child—and even now. Though Scotty usually beat her to it.

Amber walked over to the counter and stuck her finger in the bowl, scooping up a string of red goop and popping it in her mouth.

“Mommy, that’s mine.” Scotty hugged the bowl and laughed as Amber tickled him.

Brittany smiled at them and went to help Sarah with the icing. She used cream cheese and more sugar than Brittany could count to make it. Most of her friends in New York would gag at something so unhealthy, but she devoured it.

“Scotty, do you know what kind of cake we’re making?” Sarah peered over at him in between dumping cups of sugar in a bowl.

Scotty nodded. “Red velvet. But it doesn’t taste like velvet.”

Everyone laughed.

“It’s just a name, sweetie. It really has some chocolate in it.” Sarah winked, and Scotty’s eyes grew with excitement as he scraped the bowl for more remains.

Brittany heard laughter coming from the living room. She leaned back and saw her dad and Scott laughing uncontrollably. As soon as she finished softening the cream cheese, she left the kitchen to see what was so funny.

Marty sat in his recliner and Scott on the couch. Several photo albums lay spread out in front of them on the coffee table. Brittany stepped closer to get a better view. She noticed photos from all stages of her life, as well as some that dated back way before then.

Scott held an album with photos from his and Brittany’s teenage years. She sat beside him as he continued to flip through it.

“So what was so funny before?”

Marty handed Brittany a photo of three little boys trick-or-treating in homemade costumes. She held it up and laughed. “Is this . . .?”

“Yep, me, John, and Thomas. Grandma was a genius with a sewing machine.”

Brittany moved it closer to examine their clothing. The photo was old and faded. And the costumes looked a little vague. “What were you?”

“A dog.” Marty grinned as Scott and Brittany laughed.

“He looked like a cow.” Scott laughed harder.

“John was a farmer, as usual, and Thomas was a tree.”

Brittany joined Scott in cackling out loud. The picture instantly upped its awkwardness when she knew the truth behind the costumes. Once Brittany managed to contain her laughter, she handed the photo back to Marty.

“You kids laugh, but one day, Scotty and any future grands will be sitting around making fun of your photos.”

“Like this one?” Scott held up a class photo from when Brittany was in the third grade.

“Hey, everyone’s awkward at that age.” Brittany snatched it from him for a closer look. She had buck teeth and frizzy hair. Not her best year by far.

The other kids in the photo had their own fashion fails. No doubt, Scotty would laugh about this one day. Brittany’s eyes scanned over each kid. She remembered most of them, since their town was so small. When she got to the row behind herself, a brown-haired boy wearing a red shirt stood out to her. He had thick hair and a single dimple.

Greg Tucker.

That was the first year they’d been in the same class, and the first year she remembered him. Every day for the first month, he’d thrown rocks at her on the playground, then laughed about it. Brittany gritted her teeth at the memory. She’d hated him for it. And had it not been for her best friend telling the teacher, he might’ve done it all year.

“You must really hate that photo.”

“What?” Brittany looked at Scott, who was now staring at the photo in her hand.

“You must really hate it. You keep staring at it with this mad look on your face.”

“Oh.” Brittany shook her head. “I was just trying to see who all I remembered.”

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