My Father's Best Friend

by Ali Parker

  “Ugh.” I grimaced. “One more block to go.”

  “Ten. Nine. Eight.”

  “Can I put you on speaker and bring the phone in with me? That way, there’ll be a witness if my parents murder me.”

  “Gruesome.”

  Slowly, I pulled up the driveway. With staying later at school and then driving nearly all the way across town, the sun had set half an hour ago. The fake candles my mom had placed in the front windows glowed, a misleading welcome.

  “I should get this over with. Have fun this weekend.”

  “You too!” Erica squealed. “I’ll send pics.”

  We hung up, and I hurried across the cold driveway, noting that my dad’s car wasn’t around.

  “Hello,” I called, letting myself in through the open door.

  “In the den!”

  Unwinding my scarf, I followed Mom’s voice into the main room and found her sitting in the middle of the floor, boxes of ornaments and Christmas decorations surrounding her.

  “I can’t find Grandma’s angel,” she cried in despair.

  Settling on the floor next to her, I looked all around. “Which boxes have you looked in?”

  “All of them.”

  “Hm. Okay. Well, it has to be somewhere. The boxes have been in the attic all year long. I doubt a squirrel went up there and stole it.”

  “Their paws are too little to open these lids.”

  I tried not to laugh at my mother’s agony. “Don’t worry. We’ll find it.”

  Happy to have a task to distract myself with, I pulled a big red box to me and began to carefully pull everything out of it. Tissue paper, shiny orbs, popsicle ornaments I’d made in grade school, and more tissue paper. No antique angel.

  “You’re coming to put the tree up on Friday?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah.” I paused. This was the segue I needed. If I could only gather the necessary bravery.

  “And tomorrow. What time are you coming over?” She looked at me expectantly, sparkly tissue paper in both hands.

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” I swallowed. “Since Thanksgiving is pretty small this year, I was thinking you and Dad wouldn’t mind if I spend it somewhere else.” I bit my lip. “Not here.”

  As if that needed clarification.

  Mom tilted her head in confusion. “With Erica and Matt?”

  “No, they’re going away for the weekend. Andrew and, um, his daughter Raven invited me to their place.”

  “That’s nice.” She put the tissue paper down and started on the next box while I stared at her.

  That’s nice?

  “I’m going to go,” I said. “But I’ll be back over here on Friday—”

  “You should go,” Mom encouraged.

  The room literally started to tilt. “Um.”

  “Lanie, I know I gave you an earful about this before,” she matter-of-factly explained, “But I’ve had some time to think about it. If your father is all right with you and Andrew dating, then so am I.”

  “Really?”

  “Mm-hmm. Look in that little silver box.” She pointed to my right. “It might be in there.”

  I obediently opened the box and discovered the angel resting on some cotton.

  “Goodness me, I must be losing my mind,” Mom exclaimed. “I swear I already opened that up.”

  I handed her the box. “You’re not mad about me not being here for Thanksgiving?”

  She moved her head in some kind of tilt, shake combo. “It’s just Thanksgiving. You know it’s Christmas that really matters.”

  So said my mother’s living room full of Christmas decorations.

  “Okay. I just wanted to make sure this was all right with you.”

  Mom straightened the dress on the angel. “The way I see it now, Lanie, your father knows Andrew much better than I do. If he trusts the man, that’s good enough for me.”

  I nodded, liking where the conversation was going more and more.

  “Also,” she continued, “His ex-wife is dead, so that’s good.”

  “Mom,” I gasped.

  She pursed her lips. “Oh, stop. You know what I’m saying. Her death was a horrible thing, especially with Raven being so young. But at least you won’t have some ex meddling in your affairs, trying to interfere with Raven all the time like if Andrew was divorced.”

  “Right,” I nodded, looking at my reflection in a red ornament.

  “What are you making to bring?”

  “Um.”

  “Lanie!” Mom’s eyes were wild. “I thought I raised you better than that.”

  “You did. I haven’t decided what I’m taking yet, that’s all.”

  Mom gently set the angel on a bed of tissue paper. “I assume you want things to work out between you and Andrew.”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Yes with a question mark or with a period?”

  I bit on the inside of my cheek with frustration. How come it felt like everyone was grilling me on the seriousness of our relationship? The only people not obsessed with our future seemed to be me and him.

  “I like him,” was all I said.

  “What you mean is it’s not just a fling?”

  “Right,” I answered, hoping that was good enough.

  “Then you need to help make the meal. Just bringing a dish won’t be good enough. Offer to get there early in the morning to get everything started. If you want Andrew to see you in a long-term way, you need to show him all the aspects of your womanhood. I didn’t send you to those etiquette and culinary classes for nothing.”

  And … Janice Jacobs, ladies and gentlemen.

  “I’ll see if they want my help,” I said. “But I don’t want to intrude on their father-daughter time.”

  Mom clicked her tongue. “Nonsense. They invited you to dinner. They want you there. You can’t sit around in your apartment all morning.”

  “I’m pretty good at that.”

  She gave me a sour look.

  “When are you getting the tree this year?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

  “Friday morning. Remember? I’ll pick one up for you as well. Do you think Andrew and Raven would like to come with? We could all go. The five of us.”

  I thought about that, me and my parents and Andrew and Raven all together. Seeing Dad and Andrew in the same room once had been enough of a shock. I wasn’t sure I was ready to make a big excursion out of their knowing each other.

  “I’ll see,” I noncommittally answered.

  “They celebrate Christmas, right?”

  “I think so. We’ve never talked about it.”

  Mom went on, going through the ornaments while talking about all the plans she had for the holidays. The coat drive at church. Taking a night trip to see the big light display at the farm outside of the city.

  As I sorted through the glitter and glass, I zoned out, enjoying the peaceful state her chatter put me in. My mother could talk to a wall. It might have been annoying for some people, but I’d learned long ago how to make the best of it.

  When we finished picking out the ornaments for that year and put the rest away, I waved away Mom’s insistence that I stay for dinner and went out to the car. It had only been a three-day week, but it wore me out, and I was ready to curl up on the couch.

  First, though, I had to make a call.

  Sitting in the driveway with the engine idling, I dialed Andrew’s number and put him on speaker.

  “Hello,” that perfectly deep and silky voice answered.

  “Hi.” Though I was sitting, my legs still shook. Every time I heard Andrew speak, I remembered the things he did to me in bed. Basically, one word from him and I melted.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I just talked to my parents, and it looks like I’m coming to your house tomorrow.”

  “I thought that was settled.”

  “Kind of.” I looked back at the dark house, wondering if Mom watched me from between the curtains. “I had to check and make sure the
y were okay with me skipping out on them.”

  Andrew’s tone changed to a deadly serious one. “I don’t want to do anything that will upset them.”

  “Surprisingly, Mom was understanding. She, uh, encouraged me to go to your house.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  I’d save the subject of my mother’s need to see me married for another conversation.

  “But, hey, I would like to come and help you guys cook tomorrow. If you want me to. It’s such a big job, and I’d hate to leave you hanging.”

  “Yeah?” he pleasantly asked. “Hold on a sec.”

  The phone went to mute, but I could make an educated guess and say Andrew was asking Raven if my helping would be all right.

  “Can you come around ten?” he asked a minute later.

  “Yeah. Ten works for me.”

  “Great.”

  “Cool.” I smiled, feeling giddy thinking about it. I really wanted to spend time with both of them, but perhaps Andrew and I would get a chance to sneak off for a few minutes.

  We said goodbye, and I cruised out of the parking lot, the cloud I floated on carrying me the whole way home.

  Chapter 38

  Andrew

  I stared at the multiple grocery bags on the kitchen table, my head spinning.

  “Okay. How many recipes are we following again?”

  Raven inspected the laptop on the counter. “There’s the stuffing, the turkey, the green bean casserole, the cranberry sauce. That’s for Lanie. Um, sweet potatoes, salad. Course, any idiot can make that.”

  I sucked in a long breath, wondering if I was having my first anxiety attack. “Salad. Okay. We can do that. Where’s the lettuce?”

  Raven made a face. “That’s the last thing we have to make. We need to get the oven ready for the turkey. Did you thaw it?”

  “Uh.”

  “Dad!” Raven loudly clapped her hands. “Keep it together. Did you thaw the turkey?”

  “Y-yes,” I stuttered. “I think so.”

  “What?” She looked disgusted.

  I opened the fridge and cautiously poked the turkey. “I think it’s thawed. How do I tell?”

  “Drop it on the floor,” she sarcastically snapped. “If it breaks a board, it’s still frozen.”

  “Don’t start an attitude with me, Raven. Not right now.”

  As I spun around to stare her down, the front doorbell rang.

  “Good.” Raven left the laptop and crossed the floor. “Maybe Lanie knows how to do this.”

  “I could do it too,” I grumbled, but if she heard me, she pretended she hadn’t.

  Staying in the kitchen, I pulled the turkey from the fridge and set it on the counter. It looked sad. All pale and soft.

  We should have gone to the damn country club. They had a pianist there. Servers. Raven and I could have made dessert at home afterward instead.

  “I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Lanie said from behind me.

  I turned around in time to see her and Raven enter the kitchen. She held a covered pie in one hand and unwound a red scarf with the other, and her eyes shone as they caught mine.

  “Hi,” she breathed, setting the pie down on the table.

  “Hi,” I repeated, unable to look away. God, did she get more beautiful each day?

  “I’ll hang up your stuff,” Raven said, taking Lanie’s coat and scarf in the direction of the hall closet.

  Lanie smoothed down the front of what looked like a cross between a sweater and a dress. Noting that the hem fell just a few inches above her knees, my fingers trembled. That would be very easy to take off.

  As I continued to stare at her, she tucked one of her longer strands of hair behind her ear and looked past me at the turkey on the counter. “So what are we dealing with here?”

  “I love it when you do that.”

  “Huh?” She blinked in confusion. Moving fast, I stepped across the kitchen and pressed my mouth to hers. She inhaled sharply, her back arching and her tits pressing against my chest. I sent my tongue between her lips, and red-hot desire spun in my veins.

  Knowing I had to stop before I took it too far, I quickly stepped back. Lanie licked her lips, a blush crawling across her cheeks.

  “Oh,” she whispered.

  I nodded, trying to convey with my eyes how fucking sexy she looked. Raven’s footsteps were already coming back, and I’d run out of time to say or do anything else.

  “So, Dad might have screwed up Thanksgiving,” Raven announced, poking the turkey with a butter knife.

  Lanie sputtered, coughed, and laughed all in the space of two seconds. “What?”

  My face heated. “Way to throw the only father you’ll ever have under the bus. Need I remind you I’ve been a little busy building a company my whole life. Excuse me if I haven’t had time to learn how to cook.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” Lanie squeezed my hand the slightest bit as she walked past me. My eyes drifted down to her swaying hips before I got a hold of myself and forced them to lift.

  “Weren’t we supposed to put this in the oven hours ago?” Raven mournfully asked.

  Lanie inspected the bird. “Well, no. Only if you want to eat right at noon. Judging by the size, it should take about four or so hours to cook.”

  “Hallelujah.” Raven’s eyes lit up, and she smiled at me over Lanie’s shoulder.

  Lanie rolled up her sleeves. “I’ve been helping my mom cook for years. Don’t worry. I could make a Thanksgiving meal with my eyes closed.”

  “What can I do?” Raven asked.

  “Let’s see.” Lanie popped her lips. “What are we making?”

  “Here’s the list.” Raven showed her the laptop.

  “Okay. Great. How about you get started on the green bean casserole? You can pare the beans, and then after that peel the sweet potatoes. If we have everything prepped and ready to go, the actual cooking and baking will be a breeze.”

  “What about me?” I asked.

  “Dad can set the table,” Raven cut in before Lanie had the chance to say anything.

  “Hey!” I cried. “Come on, now.”

  Raven rolled her eyes at Lanie. “He can’t even make toast. It’s sad, really. He’s always burning it.”

  Lanie giggled. “He made dinner for me once.”

  “He probably had it delivered and then threw away the boxes so you’d think he made it.”

  “If that’s true, that’s impressive in and of itself.”

  “All right, all right.” I waved my hands around. “Have you two had enough laughs yet? Raven, hand me that bag of sweet potatoes. I think I can at least handle those.”

  “We’ll see.” She rolled her eyes again.

  “Your eyes are going to get stuck that way.”

  “Oh my god, no one even says that anymore. What are you, forty-five?”

  Lanie’s shoulders shook with laughter as she cut the net off the turkey.

  “Nice, Raven,” I sarcastically answered. “You should go into comedy. Stating the obvious always goes over well.”

  Raven stuck her tongue out at me, but I could tell she wasn’t really mad. In fact, she was the opposite. As Lanie gave out instructions and checked the progress of our individual dishes, Raven watched the woman with a look that could only be described as admiration.

  It appeared I wasn’t the only one constantly impressed with Lanie.

  “This says to use small marshmallows,” I read from the recipe, once the time to bake the sweet potatoes arrived. “We got the wrong kind. I only have the big ones.”

  Grinning, Lanie sauntered over, took a big marshmallow from the open bag, ripped it in half, put one in my hand, and stuck the other part in her mouth.

  “Now they’re small.” She grinned.

  My temperature rose several degrees.

  Raven made a big scene reaching between the two of us to grab a cutting board. “Is that really kitchen talk?”

  Lanie bit down on her smile and turned away, qui
ckly getting busy with the cranberry sauce. “It’s cool that you decided to make this from scratch,” she said.

  “Yeah.” Raven shrugged. “We don’t really like it. It’s for you.”

  Lanie’s eyebrows flew up. “You don’t like cranberry sauce? Are you out of your mind?”

  “It’s so sour.”

  “Have you ever had it with orange juice in it?”

  “Um, no? I don’t think so.”

  “Ah, so you’ve never had it made the right way.” Lanie pointed at the fruit bowl in the corner. “If you hand me one of those oranges, I’ll show you my aunt’s trick. Oh, and do you have a grater? If we put some of the peel in it, it’ll be even better.”

  Smiling to myself, I stepped back so the two of them could have the run of the kitchen. “Just tell me when I need to set the table.”

  Lanie winked over her shoulder. “Okay.”

  By the time the meal was finished, my kitchen was unrecognizable. Not even when Karen went on a cooking frenzy, as she sometimes did when stressed and made enough casseroles for a week, did the counters look like this.

  “You have carving tools?” Lanie asked me as she took the turkey out of the oven.

  “Sure do.”

  “And never been used,” Raven added.

  We moved with a rhythm, taking the dishes into the dining room, a place I only ventured into if a client was over for dinner.

  “Can we light those?” Lanie asked, pointing at the tall, untouched white candles in the center of the table.

  “Of course.” Grabbing the lighter from the fireplace’s mantle, I handed it over—making sure my fingers grazed Lanie’s an undue amount in the process.

  She lit the candles, adjusted the angle of the turkey, and straightened the cloth napkins.

  “I think you missed your calling,” I said. “Maybe you should have gone into home décor or the culinary arts.”

  Lanie wrinkled her nose. “Nah. I like my life the way it is.”

  Her eyes stayed on mine a moment after she finished talking, and a thrill went through me. I knew what she was getting at. Life lately had been pretty fucking great.

  “Shall we?” Lanie gestured at the table, and the three of us took our seats.

  Right away, I picked up the carving knife.

  “Wait!” Raven cried. “We have to say what we’re thankful for. Right?” She looked to Lanie for backup.