Trapped By A Storm

Twelve

   I was now eight months along in my pregnancy. Our little miracle is due in three weeks!

  I have sold the restaurant to Mandy and Bentley, who run it like a dream team.

  We have a family dinner once a week where everyone comes to Rachel's and I help her cook. Even though she tries to make me sit and watch. I can't do that though. It goes against my nature. I'm a chef who is out of work by choice. Trace loves it that way.

   We are sitting at the bar watching Trace's aunt and cousins wash the dishes. That is the rule. Rachel and I cook. They do the dishes. Of course Evelyn bitches about it. As she's doing now.

  "Why do we have to wash dishes every week? I mean, I don't wash them at home!"

  "Well then, if you don't want to wash the dishes, don't come and eat. That is simple enough."

  "We agreed that if Tamara and I cook and supply the food and house, the least you can do is wash the dishes without whining. After all, Tamara is eight months pregnant and doesn't bitch about cooking for everyone." Rachel told her.

  "Well she is a chef."

  "I'm not a personal chef and you don't pay me. Mom isn't a chef and doesn't get paid either. We provide all of the food and drinks, the house, and the labor. You all bitch about washing dishes! That is bullshit! Maybe we should start charging?"

   "Are you suggesting that we pay for a Sunday lunch with family?"

  I open my mouth to reply. Rachel puts a hand on mine. "A Sunday lunch that didn't start until after you realized how good Tamara's cooking is? A Sunday lunch that you all started without asking the ones who do all the cooking? You came over for Easter and been doing it every Sunday since. We aren't suggesting that you pay. We all know that would never happen. But what I am saying plain as day is, this is the last family lunch unless you are invited by myself or Tamara. We are done with the selfish attitudes. My granddaughter will make an appearance soon and we will have our hands full. You can all go back to your normal routine."

  The look of shock and disbelief on their faces was awesome!

  Trace, Mike, Jacob, and David, walk into the kitchen and notice the looks. Trace rubs my back. "What's going on?"

  "Mom just informed them that we aren't going to continue cooking a free meal where they eat then bitch about doing dishes."

  "Good! We need to concentrate on you delivering our baby without stress! We have had a rough pregnancy. It is time for you to relax and get ready to be a mom." Trace kissed my head.

  I smile knowing that he and I have a secret. One that will be made known when we deliver twins! We found out pretty early on that we have broken the tradition of twins skipping a generation. Whenever mom and dad asked if they should buy for boy or girl, we would always say whichever. Mom has bought for a girl. Dad has bought for a boy. They think that we don't know what we are having. Truth is, we are having one of each.

  We have been talking names also. Our son will be named Trace Michael. Our daughter will be named Rachel Michelle.

   "You aren't the only one to have morning sickness. Millions of women do it every day." Judy said snidely.

  Once again I start to respond. Trace stops me this time. "You never know what someone else is going through. My wife has passed out a total of eighteen times. She still fights nausea at eight months. When one of you goes through that, then you can share your opinions with us. Until then, we aren't listening."

  "I think that it is time for you to leave. I've had enough of this petty crazy bullshit, to last me a lifetime." Mike said suddenly. He usually doesn't say anything. That is why, when he did, everyone took heed.