Every year the ineffable Rhonda Parrish holds a fundraiser to support the Edmonton Food Bank. If you know anything about Rhonda, it’s how generous she is. If you know anything about Edmonton, you know it is one frozen wasteland this time of year and if there’s anything worse than being cold, it’s being cold and hungry.
A bunch of us will be posting to our blogs in support of this. If you’ve been following all along, you will have found me that day after the terrific folks at Tyche Books offered some entertainment. If you’ve just stumbled in from the cold, the full schedule is below:
Giftmas 2023 Schedule
Sunday, December 3rd
Introduction blog post — http://www/rhondaparrish.com/home/
Bonus: Short story by Ed Greenwood and Rhonda Parrish — https://www.patreon.com/posts/golden-simril-93992966
Monday, December 4th
Laura VanArendonk Baugh — https://lauravanarendonkbaugh.com/blog/
Tuesday, December 5th
Beth Cato — https://www.bethcato.com/
Wednesday, December 6th
Iseult Murphy — https://iseultmurphy.com/blog/
Thursday, December 7th
Rhonda Parrish — http://www/rhondaparrish.com/home/
Friday, December 8th
Stephanie A. Cain — http://www.stephaniecainonline.com/blog/
Saturday, December 9th
Tyche Books — https://tychebooks.com/news/
Sunday, December 10th
JB Riley — https://jbriley.com/
Monday, December 11th
Wrap-up/recap — http://www/rhondaparrish.com/home/
Because of their community connections and bulk-buying abilities, the Edmonton Food Bank can turn every $1 cash donation into 3 meals. This year we are aiming to raise $1,000, which means if we reach our goal we will have provided 3,000 meals to struggling families at this coldest, darkest time of the year.
If you can help, please donate. If you can’t support the fundraiser with a donation, you can also help us by boosting our signal. Share this post or the direct link to the fundraiser ( https://www.canadahelps.org/en/pages/2023-giftmas-fundraiser/ ) with your friends, family and social media. It helps a lot. Especially in these times where people are spreading out to different social media platforms more than ever before.
My thanks to you, and now please enjoy my story.
WINTER NIGHT
“Jameson Keith Turner, what are you doing?”
Jamie jumped and yanked his hand out of the till. “I’m just looking for something,” he blurted.
I crossed my arms. “Clearly.”
He shook his head. “You know me better, Brenda. I’m checking the dates on pennies.”
I cocked my head to one side. “You’ve been reading those “these coins are worth a fortune!” popup ads again, haven’t you?”
“No. Well, okay yes, but it’s nothing to do with this. I’m looking for old pennies as part of Lee’s Winter Night present. I’d have paid for any I found.”
Rascal though he was, my little brother was never a thief. I joined him behind the bar. “Okay, what dates are you looking for?”
“1993, 2005, 2007 and 2014.”
I nodded. “1993 when you two were born. 2007 when you were formally welcomed into the pack. 2014 I assume because that’s the year you turned 21 and could legally soak up all my alcohol.” I didn’t need to discuss the remaining year: in 2005 our parents had been killed. Jamie and his twin had just turned 12. I had been 18 and was able to secure custody, which was the one small blessing. Two adolescent werewolves placed under the skeptical mercies of the foster system would have been a disaster all around.
Clearing my throat against the memory I grabbed into the till for a handful of pennies and began sorting. “I have a big jar in my office from penny beer night if we don’t find anything here. What are you doing with them?”
Jamie grabbed a handful himself and started examining the coins one by one. “I thought I’d make him a bracelet. I have some brown leather cord I can make a nice knotwork with, and drilling holes I can weave the four coins in around the circumference.”
We had made each other Winter Night gifts since 2005. Money was tight, but it was mostly to give us something to do that cold first year. Lee had developed a talent for woodworking and I always baked up dozens of their favorite cookies, but Jamie was usually a handwritten “10 free hugs” coupon kind of guy.
“That sounds nice,” we sorted in silence for a while until he found several with the dates he was looking for. Jamie ended up taking the batch, since – as he put it – he didn’t know how many he’d wreck trying to drill holes in them. He insisted on giving me four dimes in return.
The penny bracelets turned out to be for all of us. Jamie had picked up a lovely Celtic pattern from somewhere, and his result was surprisingly nice. He had located 1987 and 2001 pennies for my birth year (I winced internally at how worn 1987 looked) and pack year, adding it to 2005 to create a triad around my wrist. Lee had carved me a set of wooden cocktail muddlers that was going to make Mojitos Night a lot simpler, and gifted his brother a carved wolf figure key fob “because I’m sick of you losing your keys, dude.”
“Oof, I ate too much,” Lee winced and leaned back, pushing his plate away.
“If you hadn’t decided to sample all those cookies before dinner you wouldn’t feel so bad,” I observed, leaning back myself and grateful I’d worn elastic-waist pants.
“Quality check,” he replied, covering his mouth in a belch.
The ruins of a 14-pound turkey sat in the center of my dining room table, surrounded by what remained of numerous side dishes after three werewolves had heroically overeaten. I’d planned for weeks and cooked for days, repurposing two of the bar’s keg fridges to keep huge baking pans of dressing, broccoli casserole, cold cooked potatoes and prepped veggies cold until it was their turn in the oven.
I surveyed the damage with pride. I loved cooking almost as much as eating, even if my kitchen currently looked like it had been hit by a tornado.
Lee got up and staggered over to the couch. “I’m going to need a minute,”
Jamie stood and went to join him. “Me too.”
“Agreed, but in the meantime,” I pulled a tattered piece of paper out of my back pocket and handed it to Jamie. “I want to cash this in.”
He took the paper from me like it was growling. “What the -“ he squinted at the faded writing “Are you kidding me?”
I grinned. “One free kitchen cleanup.”
“That’s not fair!” Jamie sputtered. “This coupon is way too old.”
I shrugged. “No expiration date on it. Are you refusing?”
“Can I?”
“Sure, I suppose, if you want to take back a Winter Night gift.”
“Augh!” Jamie snarled his frustration. “This is so not fair. We had, like, literally three dishes back then. I could have cleaned the entire kitchen in about 10 minutes. Besides, what else was I supposed to get you? I was 12 and broke.”
“And now you’re 30 and broke. Start washing.”
“Lee! A little help?” Jamie appealed.
“Are you kidding me?” Lee groaned, unbuttoning the top button of his jeans. “I’m not getting off this couch for days.”
“You’re supposed to back me up!”
“Last year when I backed you up I got turned into a cat for three days.* I’m not going to help your ass out any time soon.”
Grumbling, Jamie started stacking plates. “Ho frickin’ ho. Merry Winter Night to me.”
“Look at it this way. The sooner you clean up dinner the sooner we have pie.”
Lee whimpered from the couch, but Jamie picked up the pace, grabbing his stack of plates and headed into the kitchen. “Did you make your bourbon chocolate pecan pie?”
“Two of them.” I walked over, pulling another tattered piece of paper from my pocket. “But while you’re working on those dishes, I have one more coupon to cash in.”
Jamie grimaced but put his hand out. “Fair is fair. What’s this one for? Free vacuuming?”
“Nope.” I pulled my brother into my arms and held him tightly. “One free hug.”
Jamie relaxed and hugged me back. “Happy Winter Night, Brenda.”
“Happy Winter Night, Jamie.”
“Hey, what’s the status on that pie?” Lee yelled from the couch.
* ”Playing the Odds” from Tyche Books’ Home For the Howlidays. Check it out! Howlidays (tychebooks.com)
JB Riley 