Chapter 1: Problems in Potopurri Paradise

Janice Peterson woke up to the sound of sleet, pitter-pattering against her bedroom window.

 She looked over to her husband Steve who was mid snore.

“Is that Italian marble or synthetic?” Steve grumbled in his sleep.

Janice smiled impishly.

“Leniolium,” She responded, “It only looks expensive!”

Steve harumphed an approval and resumed snoring.

“Probably dreaming about Home Depot.” she said to herself.

With a satisfied sigh, Janice swung her legs from the bed and stuffed her feet into her wool lined flannel slippers in one smooth motion. After kneeling for her morning prayers, she made her way downstairs.

The smell of the apple-cider potpourri wafted up to Janice before she was half-way down the stairs. It brought a smile to her soul.

Janice had won the potpourri in a fundraising raffle put on by the Knights Of Columbus for the St. Paul Parish charities. Though she had really wanted the Kitchen Aid 4.5 quart stand mixer, after smelling the potpourri this morning she decided the $45 spent (Don’t tell Steve!) on raffle tickets were well worth it. 

The Ingram sisters brought over so much fresh apple cider the day before that Janice was running out of places to put it! So she opted to mix a gallon with the potpourri in her 7 quart slow cooker and set it on low all night. The smell was spicy and festive, perfect for December 15th.

Even though Steve was off work from the high school until January 5th, she knew he would still wake up before 7am. He was a creature of habit afterall. She should have his breakfast ready by the time he woke.

She had been making her grandmother’s buttermilk biscuits since she was able to hold a rolling pin so it took her no time at all to get a batter in her mixer. The mixer kicked and sputtered, eventually calming to spin at an even pace. 

“Oh I do wish I had that Kitchen Aid mixer now!” she said, pulling a defrosted tube of Jimmy Dean sausage from the fridge. After removing the fried sausage from the pan, Janice added flour to the grease left in the pan to whip up a nice white gravy. Setting it all to simmer.

With the dough ready, all Janice had to do was roll it out and using the lid of an old Ball jar cut out 12 biscuits. She set them on a baking sheet and then on the middle rack of the oven for 15 minutes at 345 degrees. 

Taking a moment to reflect, Janice couldn’t help but feel gratitude for Steve. She had met him at the St. Mary’s Friday Fish Fry during lent 6 years ago. She thought he was so handsome manning the fryer and packing hush-puppies with the extra batter. Janice never thought that she would ever remarry after her beloved first husband, Paul Milton, passed away in a snow storm in 1996. She gave up on the idea of dating entirely after raising her two girls on her own. Feeling jilted by the world, she figured no man would want a middle-aged woman with all her baggage. Steve changed all that.

“Where’s my breakfast Janice!” A latin voice yelled. 

Hearing the voice broke her from her reverie. 

“Oh Pablo!” She sighed, “Get in here and get some of this gravy!”

Paublo the lythe abyssinian cat strutted into the room as if expecting to be treated like a king. 

“That's jefe Paublo to you amiga!” Pablo purred.

Janice smirked and brought down a heaping spoonful of gravy so that Paublo could lick his fill. 

“Belive it or not, Pablo, I’m grateful for you too.” Janice said as he greedily gobbled up the rest of the gravy on the spoon.

Just then, the phone rang, sending Pablo three feet into the air.

“Ay caramba!” he shrieked as he skittered away from the kitchen. 

Picking up the phone Janice was instantly met with a raucous noise at the other end of the line.

“Hello!? Janice!?” the voice said over what sounded like a large crowd.

“Yes, who is this?” Janice asked indignantly.

 “It’s me Carol!”

“Oh hi there Carol, sounds like a big commotion downtown. Did I already miss the Christmas Parade?” Janice said jokingly. She knew the parade wasn't for another week.

“Oh no Janice, I wish it was just the Christmas parade! But you’ve got to get down to the tenement right now, you won’t believe it!”

“Ok Carol, I’ll hop into my sweater and be right down there.”

Sensing a commotion Pablo returned to the kitchen.

“Trouble in el barrio?”

Concerned after setting down the receiver Janice said “It’s not like Carol Eubanks to get all worked up like that. I hope everything is ok.”

Janice bit her bottom lip, thinking of what to do next as Steve wandered down the stairs.

“I smell biscuits and gravy.” He said mid-yawn.

“The biscuits will have to wait, Steve. Carol Eubanks just called, there's trouble at the tenements.”

Steve looked dejected, then annoyed. 

“Oh geeze, is the hot water out again? I swear every little issue Carol is always the first to complain.

“I don’t think so, but whatever it is, her panicking sounds much worse than some little hot water problem. It sounds a lot worse.”