Free Family Affair by Saxon Bennett

the exotic usually ended badly.
     
    "Why don't we have steak instead? We could put them on the George Foreman. A rack of lamb would heat up the house," Gitana said.
     
    Although it was late April it was hardly ungodly hot in the evenings, but Chase got her drift. "Good point. We'll go shopping first thing in the morning. You can push the cart," she said, pointing at Graciela.
     
    "I can hardly wait." Graciela went to the pantry.
     
    Chase watched as she raided it, most likely searching for unhealthy snacks that were no longer allowed in the house. She came out with a package. "What the hell are these?"
     
    "Rice cakes. She's going to need an outfit. Her current one is a little too informal."
     
    "For a dinner party with close friends?" Gitana said.
     
    "She's dressed like a Fascist," Chase said, referring to Graiela's Army and Navy store attire. "We'll hit Macy's."
     
    "How about Old Navy? Let's try and keep this within the budget."
     
    Chase watched Graciela munch rice cakes. "We'll have to be thrifty."
     
    Graciela said, "What's wrong with my outfit?"
     
    "Aside from looking like a Fascist, we can't run the washer right now because it keeps tripping the pump. The electrician gets here on Monday."
     
    "Can I still have a shower?"
     
    "Yes, the water heater works fine. But not a long one," Gitana added.
     
    "I'll get her a nice dress shirt too. She can wear it to the baptism. I'm not having a Fascist show up in church," Chase said.
     
    "Baptism?" Gitana said. "What if we don't want the baby to be Catholic?"
     
    "Like your mother would allow for anything else. When Bud grows up, Bud can decide to be a Buddhist, a Methodist or a Quaker or any of the other saner denominations. You don't want your mother spraying the child with holy water every time we come to visit like she does to Graciela—the heathen. I mean as long as Bud doesn't get into mortification of the flesh, I'm cool."
     
    "Who's Bud?" Graciela said.
     
    "That's what Chase calls the baby. She got tired of the he/she thing."
     
    Chase got them both another beer.
     
    "Can we go sit on the deck?" Gitana said.
     
    "Are you all right? Do I need to call the nurse hotline?"
     
    "I'm fine. I just want to watch the sunset. It's so pretty this time of year."
     
    "Sounds good to me," Graciela said, grabbing her beer and the package of rice cakes.
     
    Chase noticed. "See, the rice cakes are good. They just take a little getting used to."
     
    "No, they're disgusting, but I'm desperate."
     
    "You've should've loaded up on prison food while you were there," Chase said.
     
    "I don't eat corned beef hash."
     
    Chase grabbed a stack of magazines—Martha Stewart's Living, Bon Appetit and Sunset Magazine.
     
    "Going to do a little light reading?" Graciela said. Her phone gave a beep indicating she had a text message. She flipped it open. "Shit, she's still pissed."
     
    "I'm planning the menu."
     
    Gitana sighed heavily.
     
    "I'll keep it simple." Chase opened the French doors that led out onto the deck. The dogs got up from their dirt nap. She pulled two dog biscuits from her magic pockets—or at least the dogs thought of them as such, because biscuits always magically appeared from them. They gobbled them quickly and then went to explore some movement in the tree grove.
     
    They all sat down in high-backed wooden chairs with matching green pillows, something Chase had seen in a magazine on deck life. She was very much into how things looked. The pink and orange of the sunset caught the wispy edges of the cirrus clouds. Chase always thought that the sky and the clouds were the canvas of the Creator who painted watercolor portraits for the delight of his/her beloved creatures. She contentedly flipped through her magazines, looking for ideas on how to decorate the table, which wine to serve and potential side dishes. She wanted everything to be perfect.
     
    In the world of her mind, the weather would be good, the food even better, and everyone would be