The Search for Artemis - By P. D. Griffith Page 0,67

to find Riley and let him know he was all right.

• • • • •

On Thursday, Landon eagerly woke up to Thanksgiving morning, but he quickly realized the day would be nothing like to what he was accustomed.

At his family’s apartment, Landon would wake up a bit late in the morning. The cool fall air would chill his bare arms and torso as he rose from under the warmth of his comforter, making him work quickly to pull on a long sleeve t-shirt or light sweater. At that time of year, every window in the apartment would be opened to its fullest, circulating the perfect fall air.

Once dressed, he’d take in a long, deep breath through his nose; he loved the smell of Thanksgiving morning. The cool weather made it dry and crisp with the mellow aroma of burning pine coming from the numerous wood fires roaring in hearths across the city. Seeping in from the crack at the bottom of his door was the sweet, mouthwatering smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls his mother made from scratch for breakfast.

Leaving his room, he’d find his father sitting on the couch with a plate of rolls in his hand as sports analysts ran through their pre-game reports and predictions on the football games scheduled to air throughout the day. Apart from a small stint at the dining table for dinner, Mr. Wicker would stay on the couch for the entire holiday, and if the beer continued to flow, he generally stayed in a good mood.

Landon always headed straight to the dining table. The entire kitchen would be covered in food waiting to be made into Mrs. Wicker’s festive specialties. Pots simmered on every burner, and the large turkey would rest on the counter, waiting for its turn in the small single oven. Landon would sit down in his usual seat and spend the majority of the day there watching his mother work her magic.

Moments after settling into his chair, Mrs. Wicker would come over to him with a plate of two steaming cinnamon rolls—fresh bread swirled with warm cinnamon-sugar, chocked full of pecans, and drizzled with icing—and a glass of cold milk. It was his favorite. He dreamed about that breakfast.

Once finished, Landon would occupy his time helping his mother where he could, peeling potatoes and cutting carrots and celery. That was until Mrs. Bradford arrived around one in the afternoon. She’d carry a cylindrical bag she’d made out of fabric patterned in fall leaves. Inside would be her contribution to the feast, two pies for dessert. One would be pumpkin, as Thanksgiving isn’t Thanksgiving without one, and the other would be whatever Mrs. Bradford had decided to grace their taste buds with that year. Landon’s favorite was her dark chocolate pecan pie with the extra crust cut into leaves and baked around the edge of the pan.

After revealing her baked masterpieces with some gusto, Mrs. Bradford would join Landon at the table, sitting across from him in the fourth chair that was usually hidden under a pile of books. Landon’s mom always moved them in the morning in preparation of Mrs. Bradford’s arrival.

Landon and Mrs. Bradford then spent the remainder of their time before dinner playing at least one game of Scrabble, which she’d always win, and a few games of gin rummy or hearts. All the while, Mrs. Bradford and Mrs. Wicker would gently sip glasses of wine while everyone picked at a cold, spiral-cut, honey-baked ham purchased a day earlier.

Dinner was ready around 4:30, and everyone would heap food onto his or her plate as they walked down the line. Mrs. Wicker always made excessively more than should be legally allowed for four people, and Thanksgiving dinner was one of the few times of the year that Mr. Wicker allowed talking at the table. Landon sometimes wondered if he was afraid of Mrs. Bradford should he try to silence her.

It was Landon’s favorite holiday.

The Gymnasium was in no way the same. When he woke up, the windows weren’t open to draw in cool fall air from outside. There weren’t any windows in his dorm room to open. When he got to the cafeteria for breakfast, the options were the same as always, which meant no pecan-filled cinnamon rolls.

It all put Landon in a foul mood. The holiday caused him to painfully miss his mother and his old home more than usual, so after breakfast, he headed outside, hoping the picturesque fall landscape of the valley would cheer him up.