Death, Taxes, and Hot Pink Leg Warmers (34 page)

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When my alarm sounded at five
A.M.
Thanksgiving morning, several thoughts went through my mind. The first was
WTF
? It’s hard to remember my manners when it’s still dark outside. The second thought was
Oh, yeah. I promised Mom I’d make the turkey.
The third was
What the hell was I thinking, promising Mom I’d make the turkey? I have no idea how to cook a turkey!

I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. Our old house might be beautiful, but it was also drafty. I grabbed the hot pink leg warmers and slid them on over my flannel pajamas.

Bonnie was already up, too. I found her in her slippers and a yellow terry-cloth robe in the kitchen, searching the cupboards for coffee. “Good morning, honey bunch.”

Oh, God. She was as annoyingly cheerful in the morning as my own mother.

I groaned in reply.

“You’re as grumpy as Nick when he first gets out of bed.” She smiled. “Where does your mother hide the coffee?”

“Pantry,” I told her. “Bottom shelf.”

Nutty lay on the floor by the back door, casually eating a bowl of wet dog food Bonnie had put out for him. I stepped over and gave him a pat on the head.

While Bonnie filled the coffeepot with grounds and water, I pulled the turkey from the refrigerator and turned on the stove to preheat. As the coffee began to gurgle, I tore the plastic from the turkey, tossed it into the trash, and stared at the naked bird, praying it had had adequate time to thaw. Where should I start?

Bonnie stepped over beside me. “You’ve never cooked one of these before, have you?”

The dopey look on my face must have given me away. “Nope.”

“Don’t worry, hon. It’s easy as pie.”

I’ve never understood that expression. Making a pie wasn’t easy. It was time-consuming and extremely difficult to ensure a nice, flaky crust. My one feeble attempt five Christmases ago had produced a mushy blob of gooey dough with bland filling. I’d decided long ago that when it came to desserts, I’d leave things up to the professionals.

Professionals like Fiona.

I wondered where Brett was today. Would he spend the holiday with his family in Dallas? Was Fiona with him? Had the two of them become serious enough yet to spend the holiday together?

The thought caused me a twinge of pain, though only a slight one. I’d be spending the entire day with Nick. Nothing could get me down today. Least of all this turkey.

I opened the cabinet where Mom kept her baking supplies. “What herbs and spices should I use?”

Bonnie came over and peered inside. “Let’s see. How about some sage and rosemary?”

“Sounds good to me.” She could have said turmeric and arsenic and my response would have been the same. What the heck did I know about herbs and spices? I grabbed the shakers from the shelf.

The coffee was ready and Bonnie poured us each a cup. I added a generous dose of hazelnut creamer to mine, while Bonnie added a few spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of two percent milk to hers.

Fortified with caffeine now, I was prepared to proceed. I stuck my hand between the bird’s legs and eased it up into the body cavity, all the while thinking how much the men in the Guys & Dolls VIP room paid for this type of privilege.

I grabbed hold of the bag of giblets and pulled it out. I wondered if this was what it was like to deliver a baby. I’d have to ask Ajay next time I saw him.

“Not bad,” Mom said from the doorway. “You didn’t even flinch.”

She stepped inside wearing a smile and a terry-cloth robe similar to Bonnie’s, though Mom’s was pink.

My mother reached out, tucked one of my new curls behind my ear, and gave me a peck on the cheek. “Good morning, Miss Merry Sunshine.”

I felt more chipper by this point, partially due to the coffee kicking in and partially because I’d received a text from Eddie informing me that Darren Williams had been taken into custody. Given that he’d targeted both a federal judge and government agents, Dallas PD had made his arrest a priority. In the bushes at his bank detectives had found a crumpled ATM receipt showing he’d taken a one-thousand-dollar cash advance on his Visa card yesterday. I hoped he’d also be charged with littering.

I held up the bag of giblets. “What do I do with this stuff?”

Mom took it from me. “I’ll cook them up for the dogs.”

Bonnie took a seat at the kitchen table while Mom began pulling out the breakfast things and I basted the bird with butter and added the herbs and spices. The oven dinged to let me know it was heated. I felt a knife of guilt as I shoved the bird inside. After all, the turkey had not only saved my life last night, it had saved Nick’s and Bonnie’s and Nutty’s, as well. It seemed ungrateful to shove it into a hot oven and eat it. Then again, without a head, feathers, or feet, it wasn’t like it had much quality of life left anyway, right?

Nick appeared in the doorway a moment later wearing a pair of sweats and the wrinkled Cowboys tee he’d slept in. He looked tired, but those early-rising habits he’d learned growing up in the country were hard to break. He grunted in reply to our mothers’ singsong greetings.

“Peas in a pod,” Bonnie said, gesturing to me and Nick with her mug.

Nick plopped down in the chair next to me with his cup of coffee, reaching over and ruffling my hair. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Dad hobbled in a few minutes later, still hunched over but looking a little better than he had the night before. With any luck, his back would be fully recovered by the end of the holiday weekend. At least he looked well enough now that Mom could come back to Dallas with me for some Black Friday shopping.

Mom set about making her homemade biscuits while I scrambled the eggs and Bonnie fried the bacon and sausage and made gravy. Nick and Dad offered words of encouragement.

“Smells great.”

“My stomach’s growling already.”

“I hope you’re making a lot because I could eat a horse.”

Funny how eating a horse is hyperbole here in the U.S. but a delicacy in certain parts of Europe, huh?

I retrieved the Tabasco sauce for Nick and Dad. Both of them liked to cover their eggs with the spicy stuff.

We ate a big breakfast, knowing the meal would need to tide us over until the afternoon feast. Afterward, we showered and dressed. While Mom and Bonnie puttered around the kitchen, Nick and I put the leaf in the dining room table, covered it with a freshly ironed holiday tablecloth, and set out the silverware. We brought in wood from outside and started a fire in the fireplace, the house warming up with the pleasant scent of cedar.

Dad sat in his recliner, grumbling about what a useless old man he’d become, even though all of us knew there was no truth in his words.

Later that morning, the front door banged open and my five-year-old niece Jesse burst through it. “Aunt Tara!”

She ran and leaped into my arms, earning herself a big hug and kiss for her enthusiasm.

My fair-haired sisters-in-law, Hannah and Claire, were the next through the door, one carrying a basket of fresh-baked rolls, the other a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese for the more fussy children’s palates.

“Hey there!” I gave them both hugs and introduced them to Nick.

They greeted Nick warmly, Claire turning her head as she hugged him to discreetly mouth the words
He’s hot!

My brothers, Trace and Chad, herded the remaining four kids through the door, closing it before any could escape. Both of my brothers resembled my father, squarely built with brown hair and the same gray-blue eyes as mine.

“So you’re the guy Tara’s been blathering on about,” Trace said, sticking out his hand to shake Nick’s.

“I certainly hope so,” Nick replied, casting me a grin.

Chad wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me down to deliver a fresh set of noogies to the top of my head. “Where’d these curls come from?”

“I’m working undercover,” I told him as he released me. “I’m a bookkeeper in a strip club.”

My brothers exchanged glances.

“You know, maybe it’s time we paid you a visit out there in Dallas,” Trace said.

“Yeah,” Chad agreed. “It’s been way too long.”

Hannah grabbed Chad by the ear and dragged him into the living room. “Keep dreaming, buddy.”

My mother and Bonnie came out of the kitchen and we went through another round of who’s who, including the children this time. We lined them up and I pointed at each in turn. “Emma, Olivia, Cole, Hayden, and Jesse.”

“So wonderful to meet all of you,” Bonnie said, offering both her hand and a warm smile.

Now that everyone was here, we took places in the family room to watch the Thanksgiving Day parades, first the one in New York and then the one in Dallas. I lay down on the braided rug next to Jesse, and we oohed and aahed over the big balloons and colorful floats.

I caught Nick watching me and Jesse a couple of times. I wondered if he was thinking what a great mother I’d make for his children someday. Then again, he was a man. He was probably daydreaming about the turkey drumstick or mentally debating what foreplay techniques might work best on me. I tried to send him a telepathic message.
Try a tongue in the belly button. Works every time.

After the parade, we all ventured out front for the annual leaf-pile jump. My brothers and I grabbed rakes from the barn and quickly scooped up a huge pile of leaves and pine needles. Jesse’s tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth as she ran with all her might and leaped into the pile. Screaming with glee, the other kids took turns running and leaping into the pile, just as my brothers and I had done when we were young.

My mother, Bonnie, and the scarecrow watched from their seats in the porch rockers.

“It must be nice to have such a big family,” Bonnie told my mother, smiling at the antics of my young nieces and nephews. “I always wanted more kids after Nick, but it wasn’t meant to be.”

Nick once told me that his mother had suffered complications after his birth that prevented her from bearing more children. Though it wasn’t his fault, of course, I think he felt a little guilty about it. But if things progressed as I hoped they would over the next few years, maybe Nick and I could give her some adorable, precocious grandchildren to dote on.

When the turkey was ready, we picked the kids up, dusted them off, and went inside.

“Everybody wash up!” Mom called.

As we took hands and said grace, I silently thanked the Big Guy Upstairs for sparing our lives last night. I added a plea for the turkey, asking that his soul be free to frolic happily in the heavens.

The meal was wonderful. My turkey turned out great, thanks to Bonnie’s herb and spice recommendations. Her stuffing was a big hit, too.

My mother scooped up a second helping. “This has got to be the best stuffing on earth.” She turned an eye on Nick’s mom. “Any chance you’ll share the recipe?”

To my surprise, Bonnie agreed to share the sacred secrets of her stuffing. “But only if I can have your recipe for broccoli-rice casserole.”

“It’s a deal.”

Talking, laughing, and reminiscing, we ate until we could eat no more. My sisters-in-law and I cleaned up the kitchen to give Mom and Bonnie a break. The two found spots in the family room to watch football with the men, though Bonnie flipped through my
Southern Living
magazine as she sat, and Mom cracked pecans for her world-famous pecan pralines. Nick fit right in with my brothers and by the end of the day they’d become fast friends.

My brothers and their families left at dusk. We bade them good-bye out front and my parents and Bonnie went back inside. Nick and I remained on the porch with Nutty, the barn dogs, and the scarecrow, sharing a semiprivate moment.

Nick and I took a seat on the top step and he draped his arm around my shoulders. I snuggled into him, enjoying his warmth, breathing in his masculine scent of soap and boot leather. It felt like heaven sitting next to him, looking up at the moon and stars.

Oddly enough, though Nick’s personality was far more intense than Brett’s, I felt a special type of peace with Nick. The man brought out both the best and the worst in me, but he understood me, what made me tick, what made me
me.
And he’d never implied that I should be anyone
but
me. I was far from perfect, but he accepted me, faults and all. I had to love him for that.

What’s more, I wasn’t just more comfortable with him, I was more comfortable with
me
when I was with him. With Brett, I always felt a little like I was letting him down, not giving him everything he needed, like I’d never be able to provide the type of relationship he wanted and deserved.

I sincerely hoped Fiona could give Brett what he wanted and needed.

I couldn’t.

I realized then that thinking of him no longer hurt so much. The feeling was like a fading echo that had become very faint.

Resting my head on Nick’s shoulder, I sighed with complete and utter contentment.

chapter forty-two

The Best Laid Plans

Bright and early Friday morning, Mom and I took her car and followed Nick and Bonnie back to Dallas. We gave them a honk and a wave when we exited the freeway to go to my town house. There, we rounded up Alicia and set out for a day of bargain shopping.

“Where to first?” I asked once everyone was seated in my car.

“Neiman’s, of course!” Mom said.

My mother scored a pair of cute boots in the shoe department, while I found a colorful lightweight sweater on sale for half off in the women’s section. Alicia discovered a silver bangle bracelet in the jewelry department that she couldn’t live without, even though it was only discounted by ten percent. We even found the perfect bridesmaid dress for me, a red satin number with a flirty, flouncy gathered skirt and a crossover front that enhanced my limited bust.

Once we’d done as much damage as we could do at Neiman’s, we headed to the nearest suburban mall. Alicia distracted my mother at Bath & Body Works, sampling all the latest holiday scents, while I pretended to have a work-related call to make but actually dashed over to Victoria’s Secret. I bought massage oil and a sheer red nightie for my upcoming romp with Nick.