Harry and the Big Bird
Harry and Ruth celebrate their first New Year together with all their friends AND frenenemies. About as silly as it gets!
-1-
"Ooh. That's a big one." Ruth says to Harry as he hefts the 25lb turkey into the roasting pan for her.
"Say that again, dear. He pauses. "Later."
"Harry. You really are incorrigible," she tells him. But her sparkling eyes belie her words.
He stands behind her and reaches around her waist. "You wouldn't want me any other way. Admit it," he all but purrs into her ear, his hands sliding upwards. Her smile is her answer. And so is her blush which he finds as endearing as ever, perhaps more so in the three months that they've been married.
"Be that as it may," she says, before slipping away from his grasp. "I really need to stuff this turkey." Picking a large spoon off the counter, she goes over to the bowl of stuffing.
"I'd like to stuff something, too." He says, following closely behind her.
"How much have you had to drink?" She asks, quickly spooning the stuffing into the turkey's cavity.
"Not enough." He says, looking glumly at the clock.
She picks her head up, spoon in midair. "I really thought that you were ok with this."
"Ruth." He says. "I am. I'm just kidding. Really."
"I'm not sure you are, actually." She says. "All I really wanted to do was celebrate our first New Year's together. With our friends and colleagues." And," she adds, " you seemed fine when I first suggested it."
"Well, I was in a rather compromising ...position when you did."
"I see." she says. " Well, if you behave this evening, I'll see if can compromise you. Again. Later."
"In that case," he says, grabbing his drink off the counter, "I'd say that things are definitely looking up."
Even with her head down, industriously spooning the stuffing into the turkey, he can still tell that she's smiling. "You know," he says, drawing near again, "We could work on that compromise. Now." He glances up at the clock again. "We do have at least 45 minutes to... negotiate."
"Did you say 45 minutes?" She jerks her head up, a note of alarm on her face.
Before he can answer, the door bell rings.
Her look of alarm deepens. "Harry. That can't be our first guest. Can it?"
"Oh, bloody hell." He says. "45 minutes early?" He puts his drink back down on the counter.
"45 minutes?" She repeats. "Harry, did you say 45 ..."
But he's out the kitchen, down the hall and already at the front door. Pasting a holiday smile on his face, Harry opens the door. "Jools Siviter. Come in."
"Well. This is nice, I say." The former section head of MI- 6 swivels his head, taking in the spacious flat. He looks back to Harry. "Where's the blushing bride?
"Stuffing a turkey." She calls out.
"Oh, turkey, is it?" He says only, but his pursed lips and curled up nose say more. Much more. The bell rings. Again.
"Crap!" She says, her voice carrying nicely out the kitchen, down the hall and directly to the guest now standing in the wide open front door. "Home Secretary, " Harry says to his superiour, a bottle in hand, " Welcome to our happy home."
"Sir Harry. Nice of you to invite me." The HS says, his expression dubious. He holds out the bottle.
"Entirely my pleasure," Harry says, firmly taking the bottle and thus speaking the truth. After he takes his superiour's coat, he ushers him into the living room, where Jools is literally sniffing at the caviar. But in no time, drinks are pressed in the guests' hands, and in due time, his guests are sipping and smiling. Then Harry remembers that he left his on the kitchen counter. Wondering how to excuse himself so he can get in the holiday spirit too, his wife quite nicely solves the problem for him.
"Harry!"
"Excuse me, please." He says, quickly heading into the kitchen.
" I can't quite..." She's wrestling with the roasting pan, turkey sitting in it, now completely stuffed and seasoned.
"Here." He says, "Let me." Picking it up, he puts the turkey into the oven.
"This better be done by 12," she says, shutting the oven door.
"By that time," he whispers in her ear, "our guests will be so drunk, it won't matter."
She sighs. "That's not exactly what I envisioned when I invited.."
He places his hand on her shoulder. "Darling. It will be fine. We have plenty of hors d'oeuvres and food. And drinks. Really. "
She nods at that.
" Go on." He says. "Get dressed." Picking up his drink from the counter, he smiles at her.
"I am dressed."
Despite the warmth of the kitchen, the room drops about 10 degrees. He pulls his sweater a little closer around him. Then he smiles. His GetOutOfTRoubleSmile. But it doesn't seem quite as effective as usual, he notes. Before he can say, Did I tell you how beautiful you look? The bell rings again.
"Exactly what time," she almost hisses in his ear, "Did you actually tell them to come?"
"Uh..."
"Harry?"
"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?"
"Oh, never mind," she says, sighing for the umpteenth time that evening. "Just go inside and make nice to them." She gestures to the tray on one side. "And bring that in, please."
"If I do, will you make nice to me. Later?"
"Maybe," she says. Then smiles at him. "Now go."
"Yes. Mrs. Pearce," he says. Putting down his drink again and picking up the tray laden with hors d' oeuvres, he makes his way towards the living room and his guests.
"Evershed," she calls out. "Evershed!"
"Modern women!" He huffs, but he's smiling. As he goes back to their guests, he does exactly as told, like the dutiful husband he usually tries to be; he makes nice to his guests who keep ringing the bell 45 minutes early, at least according to Harry's calculations. Although there is a teeny, tiny doubt if he got the time ...well, wrong. Best not to go there. He thinks.
The bell rings. Over and Over. First Tariq, then Dimitri and Beth. Beth and Dimitri? Together? Must ask Ruth. He goes into the kitchen. "Are you coming out. Ever? Ms. Everhsed?" There, he finds her, or rather what's left of her; her head is in the oven and she's basting the bird.
"Very funny." She says, looking up, the heat from the oven making her face flush and hair curl about her face.
He smiles. "Ruth. It's fine. Stop fussing." Now why did I come in here?
The doorbell rings. Again.
"Harry. The bell. "
"Yes, I know. The bells. The bells. Always the bells."
She shoots him A Look.
"I'm going. "
"Oh, Christ." Harry says under his breath when he sees who's at the door. "Who invited her?" Or better still, who let her out?