A Warm Kitchen on a Winter Day

Chapter One - 15 Hours and 3 Minutes Until Dessert

Katherine watched daylight peek through the curtains, eventually shifting then chasing away the ceiling's shadows. Her bleary eyes continued staring as her alarm rang, and her three young kids, fueled by Christmas Eve excitement, thumped down the hallway. A well-rested John awoke and turned off the alarm. After seeing Katherine's eyes, he told her good morning with a quick kiss and headed down the hallway to get the kids ready for the day. Katherine, now 30-years old and slender with long black hair, owned the house where she grew up and had ever since her aging parents retired to New Jersey years ago.

As Katherine finished breakfast, she reflected on that melancholy memory of Christmas Eve 20-years ago. Now it was her turn to host Imelda that afternoon, as the former First Lady would return to Flushing for the first time since that fateful dinner party.

Fueled by three cups of coffee and anxiety, Katherine began regaining alertness and noticed the answering machine's flashing light that signaled unplayed messages. After hitting play, the robotic voice began:

"You have four unplayed messages:

First message, received today, December 24th at 6:11 a.m. Beep: 'Katherine? It's your mom. It's 6:15 in the morning. Call me back. I have something to tell you.'

Message completed.

Message deleted.

Next message, received today, December 24th at 6:26 a.m. Beep: 'Katherine? It's mom again. It's 6:30 in the morning. I called earlier but you didn't pick up. I'm calling again. Please call me back so I can tell you something.'

Message completed.

Message deleted.

Next message, received today, December 24th at 6:53 a.m. Beep: 'Hey Kate, it's Anna. Mom asked me to call you. She said you weren't returning her messages. I don't know what she wants. See you soon.'

Message completed.

Message deleted.

Final message, received today, December 24th at 7:03 a.m. Beep: 'No, she's still not picking up. I've already left her messages. I left her two messages already, one at 6:10, and one at 6:30. I don't know if Anna called her or not. She said she would call her, but you know Anna. I don't think leaving another message will help. No, I agree. I wish she would pick up so I can tell her. Maybe I'll just try later. When are we heading over there? Ay nako, I need to finish my hair and get dressed first. Can we stop by H Mart on the way? No, H Mart. H Mart. Because it has the cheapest produce. No, H Mart has the—'

Message completed.

Message deleted. You have no more messages."

"I guess we'll never know why she called," said John with a wry look as he washed the morning dishes.

Katherine half smiled for the first time that day before hearing a knock at the kitchen's back door. Peering through the curtains, she saw her mom standing on the top step with her dad holding a large box of mangoes. Their hair was streaked with gray tinges, and their faces were creased from smiling. They appeared ready to entertain as Rosa wore a red sweater with black pants while Emilio sported a buttoned-down shirt and blue dress pants. Katherine, on the other hand, still wore her morning sweatpants and oversized hoodie.

"Merry Christmas," said Katherine with a smile upon opening the door.

"Bata, I called you three times this morning," responded Rosa, using the Tagalog word for young child.

"I know, I just listened to your messages," Katherine explained. "What were you calling about? You never said."

"Why didn't you pick up?" asked Emilio. "We kept calling you. Three times, maybe more."