The Best-Laid Schemes

“The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men / Gang aft a-gley.” – Robert Burns

It was snowing when she opened the front door.

Great, chilly gusts of wind sent flakes flying into her face. Stormy ran up behind her and curled around her ankles, eager to see if any of his favorite watching-birds had flown back from the south.

He darted out with a gleeful trill.

“Oi! Stormy!” Anna stepped forward to retreive the sleek grey cat before he could lose himself in a snowdrift.

When his paws hit the thick powder on the sidewalk, he stopped.

With an indignant hiss, he raced back into the lifting room.

Anna bent to retrieve the parcel on the doorstep. Hefting it over the doorstop, she kicked the door closed and toed off her slippers.

Her glasses fogged with the sudden change in temperature. She set the parcel down on the counter and tugged them off, wincing when a long bit of red hair came away with them.

Once she’d polished them on her t-shirt, she examined the mysterious box.

The package was wrapped in plain brown paper, tied with a length of twine. In one corner, her name stood out in looping black cursive.

Humming under her breath, she snipped the twine and opened it.

A note rested on top.

Anna – Just for you. ;)

"Aww," she said to Stormy, who had recovered from the weather's incalculable offense and was rubbing his face against her ankle. "That's so kind. I wonder who it's from."

She lifted the lid and pulled out a bag of honey roasted peanuts.

Stormy hopped up onto the counter and meowed.

“I’m allergic to these,” she said, making a face. “And they’re not good for you, either. Ginny can have them.”

Next she pulled out a little box of coconut macaroons.

Anna sighed and added them to the “for Ginny” pile.

A box of ginger tea and a packet of dried strawberries soon joined them.

"Bad luck," she murmured, shooing Stormy away from chewing a hole in the packet.

But when she lifted a pack of almond butter cups, a can of pickled shrimp, and a jar of strawberry jam, an unpleasant twisting started up in her stomach.

And when the final item was straight-up a bottle of soy lecithin, she felt heat rush to her cheeks.

Where did someone even buy soy lecithin?

Footsteps sounded from the hall.

“Human,” Ginny said, in the rasping voice she used for Stormy. “I see you have received goods from lands afar. I demand tribute at once. Thus saith Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All.”

(Ginny’s little brother had named Stormy. And, apparently, he was a big Doctor Who fan.)

Anna spun around. “Gin,” she said, the note crumpled in her hand, “I think someone in your family wants to kill me.”

--

They sat at the kitchen table with the implements of death and anaphylactic shock spread between them.

“There must be another explanation,” Ginny said. “They wouldn’t have sent this.”

“There’s no postage sticker,” Anna said miserably. “Someone had to have dropped it off. And nobody at work knows about my allergies.”

“Maybe it was misdelivered?” Ginny said, turning the macaroons over iwth a frown.

“It had my name on it.” She pushed the note over. “And there’s a winky face. That can’t be good.”

Ginny laid a hand on her arm, her dark eyes full of concern. “Even if they were unhappy with you, we’d just have a proper row and get it all out. They wouldn't say it like this.”

“Mine would.” Anna slumped back in her chair. “My brother once dated a girl my parents disapproved of. My mum cut their prom pictures up and mailed it to her. First class."

Ginny winced.

Stormy hopped up onto Anna’s lap and purred reassuringly.

“Human,” Ginny said, “I will use my vast powers to find an explanation for this.”

Anna forced a thin smile.

“Sorry. Not the time.” Ginny leaned forward and kissed her. “I love you. And my family will, too.”

Piling everything back into the box, Ginny ran a hand through her curls. “I’ll ask around at the party tomorrow night—”

“I can’t go!” Anna’s voice rose in alarm. “What if there is a row? Or what if they cut you off, or, or something!"

Ginny clasped both her hands. “They won’t. But even if they did, I’d still choose you. And they’d come 'round once they realize how amazing you are.”

Anna blinked hard.

“I don’t think—”

On the table, Ginny’s phone rang.

Gran flashed on the screen.

She went to silence it, but Anna stopped her. “No, go ahead.”

Ginny put it on speaker.

“Hello Gran,” she said in a sing-song voice. “You’re on speaker with me and Anna.”

“Oh, what luck!” Gran’s rich alto was the same as Anna remembered from the wedding. “Just the women I wanted to talk to. I can’t wait to see you two at the party tomorrow and hear all about your honeymoon.”

“Yeah,” Anna said weakly. “It should be great.”

Gran’s smile came through the line. “Did you get my package, Anna, dear?”

Ginny blinked.

Anna cleared her throat. “What package?”

“You know, the box. The peanuts and cookies and... whatever else I put in there.”

“Gran,” Ginny said in a strangled voice. “You sent that?”

“Of course!” Gran’s dog barked in the background. “Anna, darling. It’s your first Christmas as a Higby and the whole lot of us at once can be a bit... much." She let out a soft chuckle. "So, well, I wanted you to have some of your favorite things to help you feel welcome.”

Anna felt her mouth hanging open and closed it with a snap. “Oh. That’s... that’s very thoughtful of you.”

“I saw the list on Meg’s counter with your name on the top so I snapped a photo so I could take it to the store.” She let out a dry laugh. “Took me a few trips to find a bit of everything.”

"Oh." Ginny slapped her forehead. "Mum called last week to ask, Anna, I'd completely forgotten."

Relief flooded Anna like a tidal wave and she let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

Ginny beamed at her and leaned closer to the phone.

“Gran, you're the most splendid Grandmother I could ever hope for.” She coughed. “But, uh, the thing is... that was actually a list of Anna’s allergies.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, wrap me in bacon and call me a roast.”

Ginny snorted.

“And here I thought I'd concocted the season's best gifting scheme. That makes a lot more sense, actually,” Gran said quickly. “I wondered why anyone would specifically like soy lecithin, of all things. You must've had a heart attack when you opened it. I’m so sorry for the mixup, Anna.”

Anna smiled. “That’s alright, Pam.”

“Call me Gran. And oh!" She clapped her hands. "I have just the treat to set this right. My blueberry crumble recipe doesn’t have a thing on that list. I’ll bring it tomorrow. How does that sound, dear?”

Anna gripped Ginny’s fingers and blinked back tears. Ginny raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“That sounds perfect, Gran," Anna said, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Thank you.”

When they hung up, Stormy took that as his cue to jump onto the table and let out an ear-splitting yowl.

"Now human," Ginny rasped. "About that tribute."

They locked eyes and dissolved into laughter.

--

The Higby Family Christmas party was the loudest, most chaotic, most colorful affair of the year.

The blueberry crisp was quite possibly the best thing she'd ever eaten.

And the right-through-the-door, all-in, hands-patting-her-back hug from Gran?

That was even better.