Disclaimer: Don't own "Rizzoli & Isles" and not making any money from this story
A/N: This is my first foray into the Rizzles world and I am very apprehensive about it! I'm only writing this because LOCISVU won this as a prize for being a crazy awesome reviewer. Besides LOCISVU, this story is dedicated to my new creative director, triskle, for being a great collaborator and friend! Obrigada!
I Hope the Pilgrims Had it Easier
Part One
It'd become somewhat of a weekend tradition—when both Jane and Maura were not on the hunt for a mass murderer—to have brunch at Dr. Isles' place. It had morphed into a more frequent occurrence after Jane's mother, Angela Rizzoli, had begun to live with the ME. Nesting seemed to take over after the Rizzoli matriarch's marriage ended; now, the former Mrs. Rizzoli jumped at the chance to cook hearty Italian meals for anyone who would sit down at the table with her. Maybe at first the two women indulged the brunch habit out of a sense of pity for the older woman who'd had to start a new life on her own. Now, Jane and Maura gladly sat together to sate their appetites on homemade lasagna or pasta on (at least) a weekly basis. Jane knew she'd gained at least ten pounds over the last month because of it, but the physically-active detective didn't mind as much since insulation during a Boston winter was a necessity. What she did mind, however, was the bombshell her mother had dropped as soon as Maura had retreated to her bedroom out of earshot. Angela told her feisty daughter that they would be spending the upcoming harvest holiday as a family. And with all the fixings.
"This is the first Thanksgiving that I am not on duty or on call and you want to ruin it for me?" Jane followed her mom around the sizeable island in Maura's kitchen, trying to get her mother's attention by flailing her arms about angrily. It didn't seem to be working because her mother continued to put dirty dishes in the sink and started the water for them to soak. "Ma. Ma! Please, just this once, let's order Chinese and spend the day in front of the tube. I, for one, will be very thankful." Though Jane was using her most pleading tones—reverting back to her childhood ways in an attempt to jar a reaction from her mother—it wasn't working.
And yet Detective Jane Rizzoli knew her mother had heard every word and was choosing to ignore her only daughter. "You know that you'll end up cooking everything while Frankie and I drink and watch football. I'm just thinking of you here, Ma. And Mr. Chen at the China Pearl restaurant owes me a favor."
Though she didn't make a sound, both Jane and Angela turned as Maura re-entered the living area of her main house. As put together as ever in a stylish skirt suit, the good doctor stepped closer to her companions as she placed a final earring to finish off the ensemble."Did you know that the original Thanksgiving celebration lasted three days? There were around ninety Wampanoag natives along with their chief, Massasoit. The Pilgrims were severely outnumbered." Maura's eyes widened as she shared the tidbit, seeming to sympathize greatly with the plight of the early Americans.
"Oh no! Three days? How did they survive being around family for three whole days?" Jane asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Three hours is too long with the Rizzolis, a thought she kept to herself
"Funny you should mention survival…" Maura touched her finger to her chin, attempting to remember the details of a particularly long and informational story about the Plymouth settlers. Jane's hand around her wrist stopped her mid-thought.
"No. Good God woman, no more. You win. What do I have to do?" Jane relented with a heavy sigh, resigning herself to the fact that when her mom and Maura were in cahoots, there was no stopping them.
"All we want, Jane, is a family Thanksgiving. Your family. Now that Tommy's back, we thought it would be a great idea to have everyone over for a traditional celebration." Maura offered her classic smile while delivering her response.
"We, ma? We?" Detective Rizzoli turned her gaze back to her mother, knowing that this was less a 'we' decision and more of an Angela Rizzoli production. "Maura, you really don't have to do this. I don't think you know what you are getting yourself into with all the Rizzolis under the same roof. Adding food, booze, and sporting events to the mix…I just can't guarantee that your house will make it to Black Friday unscathed." Maura leaned over the counter, looking at Jane as she continued her rant. "To be brutally honest, I fear for your safety." The way Jane could deadpan a line it was hard to tell if it was her dry sense of humor making itself known or if she was speaking the truth.
"I know what I'm getting myself into." Dr. Isles smile could easily become unnerving, especially when she looked straight in your eyes and lowered her voice.
After swallowing a lump she didn't know had formed, Jane began to ask the question that really needed asking. "Maura, it's Sunday afternoon and neither one of us has to work. Why the hell are you dressed for tea with the Queen?"
"Jane, don't be silly. If I was having tea with the Queen, I would be required to wear stockings. Did you know-?" A silent hand in the air by the brunette BPD officer let Maura know that she did not know nor did she care to know whatever it was she'd been about to relay. "Anyway, I'm dressed for my mani/pedi. It's been three weeks and Viviane is going to be rather angry at the state of disrepair of my nails. The past few crime scenes we've had in remote, outdoor places have not helped the situation at all." Maura raised her hands to better inspect what looked to the casual observer as well-kept hands. Only someone with Dr. Isles particular attention to detail would pick up the micro-fissures present at the corners of a couple of the fingernails in question.
"I'll try and make sure to let people know that they should only be murdered in convenient places that won't wreak havoc on your nail polish." Jane didn't even try to mask her eye roll this time.
"And I'll make sure that Thanksgiving dinner drags out as long as possible, Miss Sarcastic Pants." Maura thought better of sticking out her tongue.
"When you get back from the day spa with a dress code, we're going to work on your witty retorts. That last one almost made me cry in sympathy," Jane responded quickly.
"Jane! Stop being rude and let Maura go to her appointment. It's like no one every taught you any manners!" When her mother talked to her like that, she instinctively took a few steps away lest the older woman decided to smack her upside the head. Though Angela Rizzoli hadn't performed that particular action since Jane had reached the age of majority, it was never out of the question with the hot-blooded Italian mother.
Maura's cell phone picked that particular moment to ring and since Jane's hadn't chimed in unison, the detective was pretty sure it wasn't work-related. Given such an opportunity, Jane resumed the bickering with her mother. In their family, bickering such as this was the way they showed their love. It wasn't until a few moments had passed (and a few choice retorts exchanged between the two Rizzoli women concerning the strained dynamics between certain family members) that Jane looked over at Maura and noticed the color draining from her best friend's complexion. Immediately concern took over; Jane's heart beating a little faster in apprehension as she approached Maura to see what had transpired. The look on Maura's face—the drawn expression and widened eyes—did not bode well at all.
"Maura, what's the matter? Who was that on the phone?" Jane made her way closer to her friend, standing inches away as she asked her probing questions.
"I just received horrible news!" Maura initially looked as if she was going to elaborate on the statement and Jane waited somewhat patiently for her to do so. But then the natural impatience of Detective Rizzoli caught up to the situation…
"What is it, Maura? You're freaking me out! Is it your mother?" Jane paused with the questions as Maura met her gaze with a fear she had never witnessed radiating from the doctor's eyes. "Oh God, it's your mother, isn't it? Was she in an accident?" Jane reached out a hand and wrapped it around Maura's upper shoulder, hoping the gentle touch would offer support to her friend.
"Worse." Maura paused, perhaps the slightest bit of anxious tears welling in her eyes. "She's coming to Thanksgiving dinner!"
Jane released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding…in relief. "Maura! Oh my God, what the hell? You scared the crap out of me! How is your mother coming to dinner worthy of putting the fear of death into my body?" Jane removed her grasp, and took a step back. "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Same here, darling," Angela added. "This is fantastic news! We had such a great time the last time your mother came to dinner with us. She absolutely loved it; I remember it clear as day. And what I have planned for Thanksgiving will just knock her socks off, I'm sure."
Maura turned back to Jane; the thin, pressed line of the doctor's lips letting the detective know that that particular scenario was exactly what she feared the most though was too polite to reveal. "Oh no, Angela. I couldn't possibly impose on your goodwill to cook for my mother as well. Why don't we get Pierre from Mistral Bistro to cater something for us instead? That way we can all enjoy-oh my God, Jane. My mother is coming!" Jane was absolutely certain the only thing preventing her best friend from fainting at this particular moment was the recent consumption of a rich eggplant parmesan. "Pierre's probably been booked for months for this Thursday and what if he wants to spend it with his family and we'll never be able to find a suitable replacement in time given that we are four days from the actual event and my mother doesn't even eat turkey and maybe—"
"Maura, what I need you to do right now is take some deep breaths. We are going to figure this out. Worse comes to worst, we booze her up until all she remembers is what a good time she had." Jane looked hard at Maura, making sure her friend was focused on the calming timber of her raspy voice. "Trust me, enough liquor and your mother is going to have the time of her life."
"Sweetheart, Jane's right." Upon hearing those words out of her mother's mouth, Jane's reflexes screamed to make note of this instance when Angela Rizzoli agreed she was correct about something, anything. But this was not the time. This was about Maura. "Why don't you head to your salon because you are going to be late? I know how much you hate to be tardy."
"I can't handle this right now. I can't handle being late. Oh God." Maura was slightly calmer, but anything besides the stoic scholar she usually played was definitely out of the ordinary and made Jane uneasy.
"Janey, you need to drive Maura to her appointment. You need to stay with her right now," Angela directed. The glare Jane threw at her mother definitely made it clear that the younger Rizzoli did not agree with the course of action, but Jane thought it best not to voice her concerns given the delicacy of the situation. Especially since Maura had now been mumbling "Oh God" incessantly for the past few minutes; an indication that everything was indeed not right with the usually eloquent forensic pathologist.
"Fine, ma. I'm going to drive her to Chez Nails but I want you to know that this discussion about Thanksgiving is not over! Especially given the wrench thrown into our plans by you know who's you know what's coming to feast with us."
"I can't be late to Beaucage! Newbury Street! Oh God, mother." Maura was still unable to form coherent sentences and Jane thought it best to just usher her out the door and into her car, googling directions on her phone as the brunette detective started the engine.
"Mon ami! What's this? We do not have reservations for your friend, ma chere!" Jane assumed this uppity French woman was the Viviane Maura had spoken of early.
"This friend doesn't need a reservation. This friend is just here to observe." Jane crossed her arms defiantly about her chest as she answered the woman who was being so rude without cause.
"Mon dieu! If you insist, we do have a new girl that could be of service. She's not very good, she's only been with us for three years." Viviane snapped her fingers condescendingly, "Gertrude, come along dear. I have a client who is willing to suffer through a manicure with you. Of course I will have to charge her half of our usual fee given she will be serviced by an apprentice." Jane shook her head violently. What part of "I just want to watch" did this woman not understand?
Gertrude, a respectable looking young lady, walked towards the reception area and politely took Jane's hand. As she shook it, she quickly inspected the brunette's nail beds to see what she'd be getting herself into. "Hi, I've been here for five years and she still insists I'm the new girl. I promise I'll do a good job, I've been certified as a manicurist for a decade now."
"You know, sushi chefs train for at least five years just learning the intricacies of making the rice for the sushi. I'm sure the same methodology could be applied to the art of manicures," Maura raised an eyebrow as she talked, following Viviane to her usual station.
"I think me and Gertrude here are going to get along just fine." Jane gave a knowing smile to the young manicurist, relaying in that little expression that she knew exactly how she felt.
~TBC~
