Eating pasta at midnight was novel, Briar Rose thought, as was doing it in the nude with Frank. He sat at her kitchen table without a stitch of clothing, matter-of-factly loading up a plate for her as George kept careful watch nearby, waiting for anything that spilled.
"It's a good thing the curtains are closed!" she giggled, accepting the plate and smirking at him.
"Agreed," Frank murmured, opening the wine. "But a little . . . spontaneity is a good thing now and then."
"Nobody would ever believe us," she pointed out, blushing. "Certainly not your children."
"My children don't need to know," Frank replied dryly. "Nor my dad or really, anyone else at this point. We're au naturale, about to enjoy a meal al dente and it's just between us."
Briar Rose smiled. To her way of thinking Frank looked as comfortable with his furry chest exposed as he did in any shirt or sweater, and part of her knew it was his way of reminding her how little he cared about scars or wrinkles—hers or his own. She flicked her hair back over her shoulders, glad at least that the heater was working.
"There used to be a nudist colony about twenty miles north of Cherry Hollow," she told Frank as she coiled pasta on her fork. "Some sort of hush-hush hippie commune that people used to gossip about. Some of the boys in my high school were always talking about going out to spy on it."
"Boys will forever be hormonally charged," he murmured, flashing her a quick smile. "None of the girls were interested, I take it?"
"Not really. Turns out it had closed years earlier and only the sign was left. It was called Big Bare Woods."
He chuckled at that, and Briar Rose toasted him with her wine before settling in to enjoy the food. They'd nearly made it through the meal when suddenly the power went out. George gave a little 'whuff' under the table and Briar Rose sighed.
"Should have expected this I guess," Frank grumbled.
"Does this mean you have to—" she began and his phone chimed, interrupting her.
He answered it, speaking in short terse questions as Briar Rose did her best not to listen in. Knowing her own house as she did, she was able to move around in the dark and find one of the fat holiday candles in a few minutes, lighting it and bringing it back to the table.
"City logistics," Frank told her when he finished his call. "Priorities shift when the power goes out and right now there are some very unhappy people at LaGuardia. I need to authorize some extra manpower in Manhattan as well; snow and loss of power is a guarantee we'll have an uptick in burglaries and looting before morning."
Briar Rose sighed. "You have to go." It wasn't a question.
"I have to go," Frank agreed. "My ride should be here within the hour."
She cleared the table as he went to dress; by the time he'd returned Briar Rose had pulled on her terry robe and had a thermos of coffee waiting for him.
"About dinner . . ." she murmured, thinking of the cauliflower casserole, but Frank kissed her forehead, his mustache tickling it.
"Still on for the moment. I may doze through it, but unless we get more snow or the power stays off, we'll have it. Get some sleep, sweetheart."
Rose would have asked more, but they both heard the rumble of a police Yukon XL cutting through the quiet of the dark street. She gave him a kiss and waved him down the stairs to the front door, watching him step out and close it behind him without looking back.
Once she was in the kitchen, she risked a peek out the window and watched as Frank pointed back to her house with his chin. The young officer nodded, squaring his shoulders as he did so. Briar Rose bit her lip, not sure, but suspecting that her address had just been added to someone's priority list.
She headed back to bed, and to sheets that still carried the scent of warm love, dropping off to sleep after a little while.
-oo00oo—
The plows were out in record time, and the glare of sun on the mounds of snow was blinding throughout the day. In the late afternoon, Briar Rose pulled up to the home on Harbor Terrace, feeling a little achy but pleased: she had not only the cauliflower casserole, but also her grandmother's hummingbird cake with her. George's tail thumped happily as he lay across the back seat in his harness, ready to move the minute she parked.
"Be good," she chided him as she let him out and then picked up the two tote bags.
At the door Henry greeted her and George affectionately. "So you two survived the one-day blizzard! Glad you could make it!" He took the casserole from her while Briar Rose undid George's leash; he darted inside and she followed, carrying the cake.
In the kitchen, Erin was setting three glazed pork loins to cool on the counter. She smiled at Rose. "Hey! What delicious offerings did you bring today?"
Briar Rose showed her, setting them down and out of George's possible reach. "A side dish and dessert. I hope nobody's allergic to pecans."
"Nope—those look great!" Erin assured her. She shot Briar Rose a sidelong glance. "So . . . I guess you and dad were, ah, snowed in together?"
Briar Rose fought a blush. "Yes. He was nice enough to make dinner for me though. I didn't realize he could cook."
Erin laughed lightly and Briar Rose could see she was fighting her own embarrassment. "Yeah, he's got his favorites locked down, pretty traditional stuff as you probably know."
"I had a hint when I heard the way he talked about potatoes," Briar Rose agreed. "Is that an Irish thing or a Frank Reagan thing?"
"Both, Erin rolled her eyes playfully. "He's got spuds in the blood."
They were joined by Danny, who brought in a huge bowl of greens, a paper bag under his arm. "Salad's here. Hi B-Rose. See you got through the drifts too, huh?"
She took the bowl from him as he unpacked the salad dressings setting them on the counter. "Never thought I'd need four-wheel drive in Brooklyn."
"Never say never," he replied. "Whoa! Nice cake!"
"That's my grandmother's hummingbird cake," she informed him, taking in the dark smudges under his eyes and the stress lines around his mouth. "Long night?"
He shot her a quick, direct look and gave a little nod. "Yeah. So . . . it's got hummingbirds in it?"
"No, just pineapple and banana," Briar Rose responded lightly. "I'm not sure why it's called a hummingbird cake but it is. Tastes pretty good."
He managed a genuine smile, all the nicer for its rarity. "Looking forward to it."
It was a good thing the kitchen was big; more Reagans came through to collect the silverware, open the wine and count out the plates. Briar Rose made it a point to stay out of the way, finally moving to the end of the island, watching everyone in their well-coordinated pre-dinner routine, which was as smooth as the backstage of a Broadway show, she thought with amusement.
Once everyone was at the table though, Briar Rose was startled to find everyone looking from Frank to her, clearly waiting. Frank didn't help by giving her a gentle smile and a nod. "As our guest I think it would be nice if you said grace for us," he murmured.
On the spot, Briar Rose froze for a second, and then reached out on either side of her. Neither Henry nor Nicky was expecting it, but they took her hands and the rest of the Reagans followed, a little out of their comfort zone but not saying anything.
Briar Rose took a breath. "Um . . . Benedicite, Dominus, nos et ea quae sumus sumpturi benedicat dextera Christi. Amen."
Instantly she felt a squeeze to her right hand, and looking over she saw Henry grinning at her.
"Old school," he murmured approvingly. "Nice!"
"Wow," Nicky agreed. "Are you Catholic?"
"No," Briar Rose admitted. "But I did spend a year doing clinical work at a hospital run by the Franciscan Sisters of Mary."
Everyone nodded, and after a moment, began passing food around the table. Briar Rose caught a glimpse of Frank looking smug at the head of the table and promised herself a moment to chide him for putting her on the spot like that.
Luckily the conversation turned to Christmas, and everyone's plans around the same. She listened to them talk about attending the midnight Mass at St. Andrew the Apostle, and later the Christmas Brunch where apparently opening presents seemed to take a few hours.
"It's crazy," Nicky confessed to her. "We all take turns so it lasts like, all afternoon. And by the end everyone's ready for a nap."
"Some of us nap through it," Jamie admitted, grinning. "Especially if the turkey at brunch was good."
"And some of us better not get any more aftershave," Danny grumbled, waving a fork. "Three years in a row is enough; I smell just fine, thanks."
"Eh the jury's still out," Erin murmured, not looking at him as she grinned.
"Socks," Danny warned. "Ugly socks. Believe me, I know plenty of places to get 'em."
"Yeah we know; we've seen what you wear." Jamie replied, earning an exasperated grin from his brother.
"Hey, don't make me sock all of you this Christmas!"
Briar Rose smirked as did most of the Reagans; Frank glanced around to restore order. "Is there any more casserole?"
"So . . . you're coming, right?" Henry wanted to know, looking at her.
She passed the dish and gave a little shrug. "Usually I go to the midnight service at Saint Philips over on eightieth and then take the Christmas morning shift at the hospital."
Sean made a sound of disappointment. "Really? Do you have to?"
"No, I don't have to," Briar Rose murmured, feeling flattered. "I'm sure if I asked for it off I could probably get it after all these years."
"You should; we'd love to have you," Henry told her. "Isn't that right?"
There was cheerful agreement around the table, and Briar Rose appreciated the encouragement, especially from Frank, who gave her a sweetly appraising look through his glasses.
Immediately she remembered him naked and realized that in this exact same moment he was probably recalling her naked, which threatened to send Briar Rose into a spasm of giggles. She brought her napkin up to hide them.
"Are you okay?" Eddie asked, her gaze concerned.
Briar Rose nodded, straightening up again. "Yes . . . just, having a little . . . flashback. So I suppose I could ask for Christmas off . . ."
"Yes! And George can come too, right?" Sean asked. "Maybe we can get some reindeer antlers for him!"
"You can try," Briar Rose smiled, "But he usually shakes them off and chews them."
She had to leave a little early, and in the twilight, Frank offered to walk her to her car his voice low. "Thank you. The cauliflower was delicious and I think the hummingbird cake is going to become legendary."
"It's a good recipe," Briar Rose agreed. She opened the back passenger door to let George hop in, and turned to Frank, eyeing him affectionately. "Thanks for putting me on the spot with grace, by the way."
"I knew you'd rise to the occasion," he smiled back. "So . . . over my shoulder. How many of them are at the windows?"
Briar Rose risked a quick glance. "Oh geeze. Ah, well I see Danny and Eddie and Erin . . . aaaand your dad."
"Yeah, that's about what I thought," he replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "They're waiting to see if I kiss you or not."
"We should just shake hands then," Briar Rose suggested mischievously. "A good solid manly handshake. That would really drive them crazy."
"Probably," Frank agreed, "although I've already gotten some commentary from Dad about last night."
She blushed. "Parents. Okay, handshake it is then."
Frank held out his grip and she shook it firmly, looking up into his amused face and trying not to laugh.
"And?" he asked, not letting go.
"Honestly? It's hilarious," she spluttered. "They're all staring in shock."
He grinned. "Okay, I guess that's enough torment."
"For them?"
"For me," Frank responded and lightly tugged her forward, kissing her and even from all the way across the lawn the sound of a muted cheer went up, making Briar Rose giggle.