“Mom, what did you bring?” Mia nodded toward the box in Lois’s hands.
“I stopped off at Macaron Parlor Patisserie. You can’t expect the children to eat pumpkin pie.”
“Or me,” muttered Schooner under his breath.
“That’s right, or you.” She handed him a small brown bag.
Peering inside, Schooner smiled, his nose to the bag in a nanosecond. “I love you, Lois. These are my guilty pleasure.” He looked in the bag again.
“I know and I love you, too. You know I’d never walk out of that shop without kitchen sink cookies for you.” She kissed his cheek.
Tom looked on at the evident lovefest between Schooner and Mia’s mother, mentally noting that Lois had never brought him anything all the years he and Mia were together.
“Hand over the bag.” Mia crooked her finger at him.
Reluctantly, Schooner parted with his future dessert. “Who needs drinks?” he asked his tense guests and was met by a unanimous chorus.
With a newly refilled glass of wine, CJ sat down on the far end of the couch with Holly and Tom. “You look good,” she told her daughter.
“That’s because I’m happy.” Reaching over, Holly slipped her hand into Tom’s, twining their fingers.
“Mm-hmm. And what are you doing to make my little girl happy?” CJ directed the question to her daughter’s lover.
Tom choked on his red wine.
“Mom!” The color rose in Holly’s cheeks, her wide eyes silently pleading with her mother not to embarrass her.
“Oh, stop it, Holly,” CJ promptly shut down her daughter. “What do you expect me to do? Dance around the elephant in the room?” Focusing her sights on Tom, “What is going on here?”
“CJ,” Tom began, “when we met, neither Holly nor I realized there was a single degree of separation between us. Considering there are eight-and-a-half million people in New York City, the odds of being struck by lightning are probably better than this situation happening.”
“Maybe it was fate, Mom.” Holly’s taunt caught her mother off guard.
“Or a stroke of bad luck,” Lois muttered from a few feet away, loud enough for Holly, Tom, and CJ to hear.
Directing his comment in Lois’ direction, “Mia and Schooner were very gracious in extending a holiday invitation that included me, and I’d like to thank them by being a gracious guest.” Shifting on the couch, he focused his attention back on CJ. “I know that this is a bit unconventional, and Lord knows it was not planned. You have raised an exceptional woman who is bright, eloquent, fiercely independent, and yet has maintained a sensitivity and an amazing amount of empathy. She is truly remarkable.” His last statement punctuated with a squeeze of his young girlfriend’s hand.
“You don’t have to tell me about my daughter. I know her quite well. And you have to know that I’m obviously concerned about this.” She waved her hand in front of them.
“What can I do to ease your concern, CJ?” Tom was smooth.
Again, Lois muttered under her breath, “Try finding someone your own age.”
Out of nowhere, Schooner appeared, handing CJ a scotch on the rocks, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.
Henry, Schooner, Mia, and Mia’s mother. CJ mentally tallied up her very surprising list of allies in the room, realizing if you are the hated enemy entering an adversary’s territory, always make sure there’s someone else there with a bigger target on their back than yours. Love and war make strange bedfellows, she mused.
Seth placed two trays of assorted hors d’oeuvres on the coffee table.
Mia popped her head out of the kitchen. “Use toothpicks and napkins, you two. No fingers,” she directed the two little ones.
“We’ve got it,” Lily called back, as Zac handed Natie and Po each a green, pastry-looking triangle and a napkin.
“What is that?” CJ asked.
“It’s got Brussels sprouts.” Natie held out his half-eaten appetizer. “You could have a bite.”
“Thank you, but you finish that one. Zac, would you please hand me an hors d’oeuvre?” CJ took a bite of the green triangle.
“Do you like it?” Nathaniel asked, standing right next to her leg, waiting for a verdict.
“It’s quite good.”
“I knew you would like it.” With a smile that would someday stop women dead in their tracks, he turned from her and went back to the tray. Picking up a toothpick and napkin, he carefully speared another green triangle and brought it to her. Through long lashes, reserved just for little boys, he looked up and smiled, shyly. “In case you get hungry.”
Everyone laughed, including Nathaniel, who had no idea that his flirtation had eased a tense moment.
“He reminds me so much of you at that age,” CJ reminisced.
Grabbing an appetizer, Henry laughed. “I don’t think so. I remember this guy,” he looked at Zac, “hauling off and punching Quinn when he was a little younger than Natie.”
Zac laughed. “I did that?”
“You did, but then Quinn charmed you and you became best buddies.” Henry smiled at the memory. Quinn had been gone so long now, he could barely remember the sound of his voice, but knew, if he were ever to hear it again, he’d recognize it immediately. Someday. Somewhere. Somehow.
“Excuse me.” Tom got up from the couch, heading toward the kitchen where Mia and Seth had just pulled the turkey out of the oven to cool.
“Well, this is a familiar scene. The three of us in the kitchen. Can I help you two with anything?” Tom appeared to be relieved to have escaped.
“CJ giving you a rough time?” Mia smiled, standing next to the oven.
“Your mother’s right up there.” Tom smiled back at his former girlfriend.
“You didn’t expect her to mellow with age, did you?” She turned to Seth. “Can you get me one of the Brussels-ricotta things?”
Knowing Mia as well as he did, he picked up on the clue to give her and Tom some privacy. Or as much seclusion as you can get in an open kitchen.
“Thank you for including me.”
“Schooner never wants Holly to feel as if she is an orphan, especially on the holidays.” She pulled the green bean casserole out of the oven and placed it on the stovetop, added the crunchy French’s crispy fried onions to the top and put the casserole dish back in to cook.
“He’s a big man.”
“That he is.” Mia smiled at Tom. There wasn’t hatred in her heart. They’d shared some wonderful memories and he was just what she had needed at that time in her life. Tom Sheehan, and her friend, Rob Ryan, were lifeboats for a very adrift young woman who was barely treading water as she pretended to the world that she was an Olympic swimmer. But she had learned how to swim and that was a choice she had made, even though the work was hard. It was slow at first, as she barely stepped into the shallow end. But then she met Michael, and he coaxed her into deeper waters, although she remained fearful of being over her head, and remained merely neck deep no matter how much she wanted to totally submerge. In that moment, she felt bad for Tom. Unlike her, he’d never put in the work to fix what was broken, the thing that held intimacy at only the physical level for him. He was still wading at the water’s edge trying to catch guppies with his hands. Who was going to be there for him? Certainly not any of his young students.
“I’ve seen that storm in your eyes before, Mia.” It may have been years since they’d seen one another, but one doesn’t forget the nuances of a love affair. Or of a lover.
“I’m just thinking, who is going to be there for you in ten years, twenty years. Not a twenty-something millennial. Tom, what are you doing? Find some great forty-something, she’ll still be ten years younger than you and will wear you out in bed. It can be lasting. You’ll have someone…”
“To grow old with?” he finished her thought.
“Yes. Or you are going to find yourself a lonely old man.” Mia’s eyes never left his. “This really can’t still make you feel good.”
“She�
��s an exceptional young woman.” he began.
“Don’t you think I know that? So, I’ll answer the question I asked before. You’re doing what you’ve always done. And it’s selfish. And self-serving. I don’t want you hurting her. And you will.” Picking up a wooden spoon, she stirred the gravy, scraping down the sides of the saucepan. “But I’m also thinking about you. I don’t hate you and I’d like to see you happy. But you have no clue how to find it. I can guarantee you, it’s not with someone who is young enough to be your daughter.”
Holding her eye contact, it appeared he was going to answer her several times, but chose to internally censor his responses.
“Just say it,” Mia urged, one hip leaning against the counter, arms folded defensively over her chest, wooden spoon still in hand.
“I’m in your home. I’m not going to insult you.”
“Say it.”
“You’re not always right, Mia.” He waited, knowing she might show him the door, or in this case, the elevator door.
“I know that, Tom. But, this time, I am,” and in a low voice, hissed, “so, fix it.” Handing him a bowl of homemade cranberry sauce, she added, “Please bring this to the table.”
As he placed the bowl, she could see he took note of the place cards at each of the table settings.
“You really do hate me,” he returned to the kitchen grumbling, commenting on sitting at the end of the table near her parents and Seth.
She laughed. “Not at all. Our ending wasn’t good. But endings generally aren’t. And we definitely made a lot of good memories along the way, too.” Mia couldn’t help but smile at the recollection of her young, handsome professor who pushed her to explore her talent, while pulling her out of a dark void.
“Yes, we did.”
“I have something for you.”
“For me?” He was surprised.
“Be right back.” She held up a finger indicating one minute, but returned even sooner, with a small, clear plastic bag.
The moment he saw the silky brown strands in the bag, he knew what it was. Deftly, Mia slipped it into one of his front pockets.
“This is yours. You should have it.”
“Thank you and thank you for hanging onto it and not getting rid of it. I really appreciate that.” Sticking his hand in his pocket, he could feel the long strands of the tassel within the plastic bag.
“Well, it was important. An MFA from Cornell is an impressive thing in the writing world. I’m glad it’s back with its rightful owner.” Surprisingly, Mia felt herself getting emotional.
“I entrusted its well-being to a very special woman.” He smiled at her, warmly.
Holding out his phone toward Mia, Schooner entered the kitchen. “My mom wants to say hi.”
Wiping her hands, she reached for the phone, “Tom, can you bring those bottles of wine to the table,” she pointed to the counter, then turned back to Schooner, handing him the wooden spoon, “Keep stirring so the gravy doesn’t clump.”
“Dee, Happy Thanksgiving,” she walked out of the kitchen, slipping into Schooner’s office, to wish her in-laws a happy holiday.
“Hey, thanks for including me.” Tom walked back into the kitchen, facing Schooner alone for the first time.
Picking up his glass of scotch, Schooner took a sip, regarding Tom over the rim. “You disrespected Mia when you cheated on her. But I wasn’t here, and she wasn’t my wife. And we were all a lot younger and stupider then. This… this is my daughter, man. I witnessed her get her heart ripped out last spring, and when it’s your kid, it is a brutal thing to watch. There are just some things that Dad can’t fix. She has gone out on a limb with her entire family for you. Do not disrespect her or I will take that personally.” Schooner trained his sights back on stirring, and then as an afterthought, “Even if this thing with Holly wasn’t happening, you can’t expect me to like you after what you did to Mia.”
“I was with Mia during that first year after California, Schooner. And if she wasn’t writing, she would be dead. I made sure she didn’t do anything destructive with that pain, but instead channeled that talent to help her heal.”
Schooner nodded. He had never given Tom credit for being there for Mia or for being a positive influence in Mia’s life. Just knowing how crushed he was when she didn’t return to school, it hurt to even think about what Mia had been going through back then, thinking he never loved her, and that what they had shared had been a lie. He knew that Tom was telling the truth. The man had met a broken Mia and helped her move on, and not only survive, but thrive.
“Thank you for that,” Schooner acquiesced, and looking Tom straight in the eye, “I can only imagine her pain that first year.”
Mia returned, handing Schooner his phone. “Okay, that looks done.” She turned off the gas on the stove. Handing Schooner a large chef’s knife, “Carving time.”
Tom’s eyes widened, he wanted out of the kitchen. “Can I take anything else to the table?”
“I think we’re good. Can you grab Seth for me?”
“Sure thing.” Tom was all too happy to get as far away from the imposingly large figure of Schooner Moore, and what he was sure was a recently sharpened for the occasion, eight-inch chef’s knife. He left the kitchen on what he knew would probably be the most civil moment that would ever pass between the two men.
“There’s something so hot about you butchering that bird.” Seth entered the kitchen and stood there staring at Schooner. “But you’re not doing it right.”
“All yours,” he gladly surrendered the knife to Seth. “Mia, should I bring the sweet potato soufflé and stuffing to the table?”
She turned her head and nodded, and he grabbed the two dishes.
Looking out from the open kitchen, Seth watched Henry laughing at something CJ said. It was hard for him to imagine that they had a history he wasn’t a part of, that she had known Henry and Quinn as a couple. “She is very beautiful. There’s no denying that. And you were such a mess when I met you. I shudder to think of what you looked like in college.”
“Et tu, Princess?” Mia shook her head.
“I think Henry is protecting her,” he observed.
“That woman does not need protecting. Does she look like she needs protecting?” Mia was losing her cool. Ms. Namaste was gone.
“Chill, BBC. The evening is still young.”
Picking up the scotch glass Schooner had left on the kitchen counter, Mia took a healthy swig, the glass still resting on her lips when he walked back in, surprised to see his wife belting down a single malt.
“C’mere, Baby Girl.” He opened his arms to her, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I’m right there with you.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Why did I think this would be a good idea?” She looked up questioningly into eyes that were an exact match to the mid-morning sky out at the beach house after the sun burned off the early fog from the horizon.
Smiling down at her, “Just sit back,” he said in a soft voice, “and keep drinking. The only thing we’ll have to do is clean up the mess,” he laughed, “oh, and the dishes.” He genuinely seemed amused anticipating what might transpire at the dinner table. Looking at Mia with a conspiratorial smile, he shared their pre-entrance trademark, “Showtime.”
“Let the shit storm begin,” Mia couldn’t help but share the smile with her husband as they exited the kitchen area and made their way to the dining table.
“Oh, place cards, Mia. How fancy,” Lois noted, as she walked around the festively decorated table.
“Nana, I get to sit with you and Uncle Seth.” Portia ran to her chair, standing behind it as she waited for the other guests to take their places at the table before sitting down.
With Schooner and Mia’s arrival, everyone took their seats, Schooner at the head of the table, the end closer to the kitchen and Bob, Mia’s father, heading up the far end of the table.
“Are we going to get one of your famous speeches tonight, Schooner?” his mother-in-law asked from h
er seat next to her husband.
“I wasn’t planning on it.” He laughed.
“Oh c’mon,” Seth urged, “we haven’t had one of your speeches in a long time.”
“I don’t think he’ll ever top the one from right after Nathaniel was born,” Bob sounded skeptical.
Mia shook her head laughing. “Oh God, now we’re never going to get to eat. What is wrong with you people?”
“Be quiet, BBC, and let our host speak,” Seth admonished his business partner.
“Okay, okay.” A smile slowly overtook his handsome face, “I wasn’t planning on doing one of these today.” Looking reflective, he took a deep breath. “With the exception of my parents, who we’ll see in a few weeks, and Yoli and Debbie, and Charles and Gaby.”
“And Paola,” Portia added, reminding her father.
Acknowledging his little girl’s contribution with a smile, “And Paola. Everyone I love is sitting around this table, which makes me a very fortunate and thankful man.” Shifting to his right to address Lily and Zac, he paused for a moment. “Lily, having you become a member of our family is truly an honor and something we are all looking forward to. We are so proud of you as we watch as you fulfill your dream at Johns Hopkins. Our families are so intertwined. Your father’s work led us to Po.” Looking down the table, Schooner smiled at his adopted daughter. “When you’re ready to start the wedding plans, the two best wedding planners in the world are sitting down at the end of the table.” He smiled at Seth and Lois and laid his hand on top of his future daughter-in-law’s, giving it a squeeze. Looking Zac in the eye, “You know how proud of you I am, right? I will be the first to admit, getting kicked out of Bryson was the best thing that could have happened to you, allowing you to experience things that were more aligned with your passions and you took those opportunities to make your own dream a reality. I know you will never cease to amaze me. I am thankful that you two have found one another and embarked on this wonderful path together and I’m so proud of the man you have become.” He looked from Zac to CJ who was sitting on the other side, “Well, we obviously did something right.” He smiled at her. “I’ll bet you never thought we’d be sitting at the same Thanksgiving table again so soon. Holidays are for families and loved ones and this is where you should be, surrounded by your children.” He gestured to Zac and Holly flanking their mother. “Please don’t ever think you can’t spend the holiday with the kids because they are here. I am thankful for the two wonderful children you gave me.”
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