by Pandora Pine
Ronan burst out laughing. “Don’t tell me that’s your tag line?”
“Well, this looks like trouble!” Ten walked into the kitchen alone.
“Hey, babe. Where’s Laurel and Kaye?”
“They’re watching Frozen with Uncle Tru. Rumor has it he’s a better singer.”
Ronan was about to argue with the rumor, but then he remembered he sounded like a dying albatross when he tried to sing Let It Go. He let the fight pass out of him. It was better not to scar Laurel for life.
“Have you thought about a change in careers?” Ronan asked Jude.
“What like to become a fireman or an astronaut? I think that ship has sailed.” The P.I. laughed.
“You never know when an opportunity is just around the corner.” Ronan shot Tennyson a silent look.
Ten frowned. He shook his head as if he had no clue what kind of possible message Ronan could be trying to convey.
“There are all kinds of things to investigate that won’t suck your soul out of your body. Paranormal things. Ghost hunting kinds of things.” Ronan couldn’t believe how thick Tennyson was being. His husband wasn’t usually this dense.
“Ohhh,” Tennyson said, seeming to finally be picking up what Ronan was laying down. “Oh?”
“Is he missing a dose of medication?” Jude finished cutting the potatoes and set his knife down. “I’m gonna hit the head while the two of you sort out whatever message this was supposed to be.”
“Seriously, babe?” Ronan raised an eyebrow at Tennyson.
“What the hell were you trying to tell me?”
“Weren’t you the one who told me you and Carson were talking about hiring house cleaners when you expand the business? Jude might not have any psychic gifts, but aren’t you going to need someone to do the leg work and investigate the properties to see if there were crimes committed or if someone was murdered in the house or do background checks on the property owners or whatever?”
“You hate that dick, remember?” Ten looked confused.
“Weren’t you the one who said it takes one to know one?” Ronan couldn’t help grinning.
“Ronan, if we hired this guy, we’d be stuck with him forever. He’d be a part of our family. I mean, he’d be the next…” Words seemed to fail Tennyson.
“Me.” Ronan laughed. “I think you’re trying to say Jude would be the next me.”
Ten sighed. His mouth hung open before he shut it with a click of his teeth. “Yeah. Since the role of loudmouthed dick is already taken we’d have to find a different one for him to fill.”
“For now, just pencil him in as fiery dick. We’ll figure it out from there.”
“How many times do I have to tell you both that I prefer genius dick?” Jude shouted from the bathroom.
34
Tennyson
As unbelievable as Tennyson thought it sounded when they’d discussed it a few weeks back, Thanksgiving dinner prepared at four different houses was on the table, on time, and looking delicious.
They’d all decided Carson and Truman would host the meal this year since all of the gear the babies would need was at their house. Laurel would be fine in a booster seat that Cole and Cassie would bring along with them. They didn’t have a table big enough to seat all ten of them, but Fitzgibbon supplied a folding table and chairs that he’d “borrowed” from the office.
All of the food was laid out around the table family style. All that was missing was Tennyson, who was pouring the molten-hot gravy into the gravy boat. “Here we go. Thanksgiving can officially begin now!” He set the gravy in front of Greeley who was practically drooling.
“Okay, everyone, dig in!” Truman surveyed the table, finally grabbing the serving fork and taking a big slice of turkey which, he started cutting up on his plate. “Turkey for my little gobblers!” he announced, setting a pile on each of the babies’ high chair trays. Carson was at the ready with his phone to film the moment.
“I still can’t believe we made four different turkeys for fourteen people, four of whom are two years old and under,” Cole laughed.
“I love it!” Greeley’s green eyes glowed. “This is my first real Thanksgiving ever…” Emotion crept into the teenager’s voice. He bowed his head.
“It’s our first Thanksgiving as a whole family,” Tennyson said, wanting to get the attention off Greeley so he could get himself back under control. “I want to try Truman’s deep-fried bird. Can you pass it over, Jude?”
“Not until I grab the drumstick.” He forked it onto his plate and passed the platter Tennyson’s way.
“I want to try Greeley’s grinch-popped bird,” Kaye said. “Who’s got that one?”
“I’ve got it,” Kevin laughed.
“It’s spatchcocked, Grandma Kaye.”
“I refuse to say that obscene word at the dinner table.” She took the tray from Fitzgibbon and served herself.
Ronan bit his tongue. “I think we need to have a contest to determine who’s got the best turkey.”
“That’s not a contest at all, Ronan. I’ve already won.” Ten held his arms up and shook his fists like a prize-fighter.
“How could you have won? You didn’t even make a turkey.”
“Ohhh, you didn’t say we were going to determine who made the best turkey. You said we were going to determine who had the best turkey. I win hands down!”
“And twice on Sundays.” Carson laughed. “He grabbed the mashed potatoes and dumped dollops on each of the babies’ trays for them to try.
“What are you doing, wife?” Truman asked. “None of them know how to use spoons.”
“That’s the fun of it!” Carson scooped up some potato on his finger and offered it to Bertha. “Mmm, try this.”
Bertha shot her father a quizzical look but did what he asked. She squealed after tasting the buttery spuds and dug into her potatoes with both hands.
“Told you!” Carson stuck his tongue out at his husband.
Seeing that their sister was enjoying the white blob on her tray, Brian and Stephanie joined in. Both babies babbled with apparent joy and started shoveling the potatoes into their mouths with both hands.
“Looks like we might need more potatoes.” Ronan laughed. He pulled his phone out to take pictures of the babies. “Don’t any of you forget who the potato master was.”
“Go, Ronan.” Jude golf clapped.
“Okay!” Ten said quickly. “Back to the idea of a turkey contest. “I think I have an idea for first prize.”
“You do?” Ronan asked.
Ten nodded. They’d talked about this a few weeks ago, but he wasn’t sure if Ronan would remember. “Remember the plan about the boat?”
Ronan tilted his head. “Oh! You want to tell everyone about our idea now?”
“We’re all here and the kids are happy, why not?”
“What plan? What boat?” Greeley asked. He was spooning a huge pile of candied yams onto his plate.
“Ronan and I didn’t really take an actual honeymoon. We just stayed home and helped Fitzgibbon and Greeley move into their new house, so we thought we would take a cruise after Christmas.” Ten turned to Ronan to continue the story.
“There’s been so much going on with me and Kevin getting our stupid asses shot and then with Kevin adopting Greeley and Carson and Tru having the babies and everything going on at the shop and the bakery and Kaye losing David, that we though all of you might want to come along with us.”
“On a cruise?” Truman’s green eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. “With three babies who’ll be eleven months old and probably walking by then?”
“We thought about that. We would have to be extra careful with them when we’re on deck, but with all of the adults around, that shouldn’t be a problem.” Ronan grinned. “There’s a cruise to Bermuda that sails out of Boston, so we wouldn’t have to fly. We’d just need to book a car service to drive us to the cruise terminal. After a day and a half at sea, we dock in Hamilton and the ship stay
s there until we sail back to Boston on Thursday of that week. Ten and I thought that would be better than island hopping. Greeley and Kevin knew about this idea already, but what does everyone else think?” Ronan looked around the table.
“We’re in!” Fitzgibbon said without even consulting Greeley.
Cole started to laugh. “Cass was just saying the other night that she wanted to go on vacation. Ask and you shall receive.”
“Carson, Truman, what about you guys?” Tennyson turned to look at the babies whose faces were covered in mashed potatoes. They seemed to all get a look at each other at the same time and started giggling.
Truman picked up his phone and started filming the babies laughing at each other. “We’re in! The last time my chest saw the sun was when Bertha threw up on me at our Fourth of July barbeque and it was easier to just take my shirt off than to wear baby puke.”
“What about you, Jude?”
“I’m invited?” Jude sounded stunned.
“So long as you don’t act like a di-”
“Ronan!” Kaye yelled sharply.
“What?” Ronan sounded offended. “I was going to say so long as he doesn’t act like a ditz.” He smiled angelically at his mother-in-law. “What did you think I was going to say, Kaye?”
“I, well…” Kaye trailed off. She focused on folding the napkin in her lap.
“You’re invited too, Mom. Same rule as Jude though. You can’t act like a ditz either.” Ten winked at his husband.
“Really, Tennyson. I never act like a ditz.”
“Good, so you’re in too!” Ronan laughed. “So, back to the turkey contest. The chef of the winning bird goes on the trip for free. Our treat!” Ronan pointed back and forth between himself and Tennyson. “The loser does the dishes! We’ll vote after dessert.”
35
Ronan
Ronan was so stuffed that he would swear he wouldn’t be able to eat again until Monday at the very least. He was sitting, half-awake, on Truman’s sofa, with the dogs all piled around him. He was fat, happy, and warm. Add to that, the Cowboy’s game was on television. Life was good.
“Well, Jesus Christ! Aren’t you King Mutton!” a sarcastic voice crowed.
“Fuck off, Jude. You’re just jealous.” Ronan didn’t bother to open his eyes.
“Oh good, I’m glad I caught you both getting along.” Fitzgibbon swept past Jude into the living room. “Are you some kind of tiny dog whisperer, Ronan? Christ, they flock to you like you have treats in your pocket.”
“More like he soaked his underoos in Kibbles and Bits.” Jude drawled, sounding bitter.
“Can both of you go screw and leave me to enjoy my food coma in the company of these three lovely ladies. Can’t you see we’re trying to watch the football game?”
“How can you watch the game with your eyes shut, ditz?” Jude chuckled. “Nice save by the way.”
Ronan laughed. His blue eyes popped open. “I need to be fast on my feet when my mother-in-law is in town.”
“They’re starting to wrap up the leftovers in there, so I thought now would be a good time to talk about the case.”
“On Thanksgiving?” Jude sounded like he thought Fitzgibbon had lost his mind.
“Crime doesn’t take a holiday, son!” Ronan drawled in his best impersonation of Fitzgibbon.
“No,” Jude shook his head. “I could give a fuck what day it is. I just meant with all of these other people here.” He pointed toward the kitchen.
Ronan could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. The babies were banging on their high chair trays and babbling up a storm and Laurel could come running in here at any second. Even though he’d said it in a dickish way, Ronan knew where Jude was coming from. “Cap will make it quick.”
“I’m just waiting on Ten. He said he’d be right in. He and Carson were in the middle of a conversation about rocks and Aquarius. That’s when I tuned out.” Fitzgibbon shook his head.
“In this crowd it might take a few minutes to get himself out of the nine conversations he’s got himself in the middle of.” Thanksgiving dinner had been a crazy train. Once talk of the trip to Bermuda simmered down, everyone broke off into different factions. Ronan heard Greeley and Kaye talking about going to IKEA for Black Friday. Truman had wondered if he still had a bathing suit that fit him. Fitzgibbon and Jude were talking about the Patriots’ shit offensive line. Carson babbled with the babies as he’d heaped yams on their tray, while Cassie and Cole whispered about something amongst themselves. At one time or another Ten had a hand in all of those conversations and started a few of his own.
Ronan, for his part, had sat back and listened to the madness around him. He passed dishes around the table and ate his share of the meal. For him though, having his family surrounding him was the best part of this day. For the last few years, he’d spent Thanksgiving with his old partner from Homicide, Tony Abruzzi and his wife, Carlie.
After the outcome of the Max Harmon case and the fallout that came after, he and Tennyson hadn’t seen Tony or Carlie in months. They hadn’t come to the wedding or even sent a card. It had been upsetting to Ronan, but he’d understood. He’d never shut the door on the friendship he’d shared with Tony, but if his friend was looking to rekindle it, the ball was in his court. Still, Ronan couldn’t help but think of him today.
Ronan had lost his mother, Erin, a few weeks after he’d graduated from the police academy. This was the first time since then that he’d felt like he’d spent Thanksgiving with a family of his own.
“Here I am.” Tennyson announced as he walked into the living room. “Carson was showing me pictures of pink sand beaches. He’s so excited, I think he wants to leave today.” Ten took a seat next to Fitzgibbon. “Reporting for duty, Cap.”
“Where are we with this case?” Fitzgibbon was obviously wasting no time with small talk.
“Isn’t that what we should be asking you? Aren’t we still dead in the water with being able to retrieve the murder weapon and the cell phone?” Ronan asked.
Fitzgibbon nodded. “Yes, Ronan, but when do we ever stop investigating and sit with our thumbs up our asses? That’s right, never!” Fitzgibbon answered his own question. “If I were handling this investigation, I would get my ass back to Charlestown and talk to Tim Hutchins. You might also want to talk to his mother and see where the hell things went so wrong with her sons.”
Jude narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, Fitzgibbon? I’ve met Jennifer Hutchins and she’s a good mother.”
Kevin narrowed his eyes right back. “Oh really, genius dick? If she’s such a good mother then why did one twin let the other twin go to prison for the murder he committed?” He stood up. “Oh yeah, mother of the fucking year! Give the woman a trophy!” He stalked back toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna need some pie soon!” He practically thundered.
Ronan looked over at Tennyson who he could see was trying not to laugh. “He’s really part of the family now, Ten.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Ronan?” Jude didn’t sound like he was in the mood for riddles.
“Fitzgibbon named you. We have no choice, we’ve got to keep you now.” Ronan was not pleased with that development. Fitzgibbon only got that pissed off at you if he really liked you.
Jude looked perplexed. “What the hell did Fitzgibbon name me?”
“Genius dick!” Ten and Ronan crowed together.
“What’s that old saying?” Ten tapped a finger against the side of his head. “Oh, yeah. Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”
Jude shot him a dirty look and crossed his arms over his chest.
“You said you wanted to be called genius dick and your wish came true! Bet you’re thinking now you should have wished for a million bucks and a ticket out of Boston, huh?” Ronan moved off the couch. “Now that all of you assholes have ruined my food coma, let’s go eat some pie!”
The table was set for dessert when Ronan walked into the kitchen. At each spot was a square of paper and so
mething to write with. Ronan assumed this was to tally the votes for the turkey contest.
“Oh good. So nice of the newlyweds to join us.”
“Jeez, Carson, it’s not like we were doing it on your couch. Not with Sadie watching us. She has such penetrating eyes.” Ronan shuddered.
“Have a seat. I’m dying to try a piece of Cassie’s pumpkin pie.” Carson sounded grumpier than usual.
Ronan tipped Carson a mock salute but took his seat.
“Write down the type of bird that was your favorite to avoid confusion. Just to recap, we had a traditional turkey, a brined bird, the deep-fried turkey and the spatchcocked creation. Ready? Set. Vote!” Carson shouted.
It wasn’t even close for Ronan. He scribbled his answer down on the paper, folded it and stuck it in the bowl. He looked over at Tennyson’s paper and saw that his husband had written down the same thing. He had a feeling the vote was going to go to Team Spatchcock, that was if people could spell it. If not, there were going to be some pretty hilarious attempts.
When all of the responses were in the bowl, Carson pushed it over to Tennyson and Ronan. “Since you’re giving away the prize, you should be the ones to tally the votes.”
“I’ll read them out and you keep count?” Ronan asked Ten.
Ten nodded, grabbing a napkin and a pen. “This is so exciting. It makes me feel like Vanna White!”
The absolute last person Ronan wanted to be was Pat Sajak. He had a whiney voice and was way too short. “I’ll play Bob Barker then!” Ronan pulled out the first ballot. “One vote for grinch-popping. Hmm, I wonder who wrote that, Kaye?”
“Ballots are supposed to be secret.” Kaye frowned at Ronan before grinning at Greeley and patting his hand.
“Spat-flopping.” Ronan recognized the writing as Carson’s. Interesting that he’d vote against his own traditional turkey.
“Trench-dropping.” Truman’s block printing. Ronan noticed a trend developing.
“Spatchcocking. Atta boy, Greeley! Not only did you vote for yourself, you spelled it right!”