"How'd it go?" Lisbon muttered to Jane in the hallway once all the food had been prepared and they were getting ready to sit down for Thanksgiving dinner. She had a basket of rolls ready to deliver to the table.
"You mean bonding with your brothers?" Jane asked, pausing in the doorway to the dining room.
She shifted the basket of rolls in her grasp. "Yeah."
"Making progress," he said. "By this time tomorrow, I'll have completely won them over, I think." He bounced a little on his heels, looking almost eager. "Tomorrow's a big day."
"A big day in your plot to win over my brothers?"
"Yes, precisely."
"Which you still aren't going to tell me about."
He chuckled. "You aren't ready to hear it."
Lisbon shook her head. "Unbelievable."
"How about you?" Jane said, neatly turning the conversation back on her. "How did the female bonding go?"
"Fine," Lisbon said brusquely, without offering any details.
He grinned. "You talked about me, didn't you?"
His ego really did know no bounds. Well, she wasn't going to inflate it any more if she could help it. "Don't flatter yourself."
His grin widened. "Liar. It's perfectly obvious you were talking about me."
"What makes you so sure of that?" Lisbon demanded.
"Because both Laurie and Nell's opinions of me improved between the time you went into the kitchen and the time you came out. And Tommy's girlfriend, Elspeth, winked at me when she met me and told me to keep up the good work," he said, his grin threatening to split his face in two.
"Okay, fine. Your name might have come up."
"You must have said some pretty nice things about me," Jane said. His grin could only be described as shit-eating by this point. "They seemed pretty impressed. What did you tell them?"
"I told them you were a pain in the ass, but at least you were nice to look at," Lisbon said with a straight face.
He smirked. "You told them I was good in bed, didn't you?"
"No," Lisbon lied.
"I know you're not always pleased with the way I conduct myself on the job, my dear, but it's nice to know my performance in other areas has been deemed satisfactory, at least," he said, preening.
She smacked him on the shoulder with her free hand. He knew damn well he was more than 'satisfactory' in that particular area. "Shut up."
He chuckled. "Words of love from Teresa Lisbon." He pecked her on the cheek. "Thanks for singing my praises to the womenfolk. If I only have to ingratiate myself with your brothers, the whole effort of winning over the Lisbon family will be a lot easier."
With that, he went into the dining room and chose a seat next to Henry, who was attempting to hang a spoon from his nose. He set about teaching the boy the best way of getting it to stick. He laughed with Henry, looking as though he didn't have a care in the world.
Words of love from Teresa Lisbon. He'd said it to tease her, but his words troubled her. She still hadn't said those critical words to him. She'd meant what she said to Elspeth and the rest—she was lucky to have him in her life. He was so good to her. She could tell her sisters in law and a woman she'd just met how important he was to her. So why did she still find it so hard to tell him that to his face?
"Oi, hot food coming through," Tommy said, elbowing past her with a hot casserole dish in oven-mitted hands. "Move it or lose it, T."
Jolted out of her reverie, she stepped aside, deeply unsettled. Tommy set the dish down and headed back to the kitchen for more. Lisbon crossed the room and set down the rolls. She hesitated, then took her seat next to Jane, heart pounding. He settled his hand on her knee without looking up from his patient tutelage of Henry. She slid her fingers through his and squeezed tightly. He absently raised their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, still without taking his attention away from Henry.
Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
He turned to her, pleased. "What was that for?"
"Just… for being you."
He smiled. "Well, I must say, at the moment, it feels very good to be me."
"Thank you for cooking for me all the time," she blurted out. "And for making me coffee. And for my roses. I love the roses. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Not in so many words," he said. "But I knew you liked them."
"How?" she said desperately. "How could you tell, if I didn't tell you?"
"I can tell by the way they make you smile. How your eyes are soft and happy when you see them." His own eyes were soft and happy as he said it.
She took a deep breath. "I really, really love my roses, Jane."
He squeezed her hand. "Good. Because you're going to keep getting them for a very, very long time."
"I'm crazy about you, you know that?" she whispered.
He flashed a blinding smile at her. "Likewise, my dear."
"Okay, break it up, lovebirds," Tommy said from the doorway, carrying the giant tray with the golden brown turkey. "It's turkey time." He set the bird down on the table. Annie came in with a bowl of green beans, followed by Elspeth with the cranberries.
"Food's on!" Tommy hollered to the house at large. "Come and get it!"
"I did it!" Henry said with excitement. He turned to Jane and Lisbon, proudly displaying the shiny silver spoon hanging from his nose.
They both laughed and congratulated him as the rest of the Lisbon family stampeded into the dining room, ready to stuff their faces.
James corralled all the children into their seats, the adults filling in wherever there was a free chair. Once everyone was seated, everyone bowed their heads and Nell said grace.
When she was finished, Nathan crossed himself and added, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost… the one who eats the fastest gets the most." He proceeded to load his plate with heaping helpings of every dish within his reach.
The rest of the family followed his example, elbowing each other in their haste to fill their plates. Noisy chatter filled the room.
Lisbon enjoyed the first part of the meal, catching up on news about the kids, getting to know Elspeth better, congratulating Laurie on the promotion she'd gotten recently at her law firm. She laughed with Jane at Henry and Gillian as they engaged a belching contest across the table. Her heart thrilled a bit at the rumble of laughter in Jane's chest, next to her, as the children's dismayed mother entreated them to cease their battle of the belches and their father and uncles egged them on.
Later, when the kids had finished eating and had run off to play again, the grownups sat around the table, still talking. Everyone else had finished, but Michael and James were still eating.
James sighed in contentment as he bit into another gravy laden bite of turkey. "This is great, babe," he said to Nell. "You've outdone yourself."
"Yeah," Michael said around a mouthful of turkey, stuffing, and potatoes all mixed together. "Have I thanked you lately for agreeing to marry into this family?"
"Not since the last meal I cooked for you," Nell said dryly. "I'm sensing a pattern to your gratitude."
"I can't help it." He jerked his head in Lisbon's direction. "After living on this one's cooking for years, I learned to be deeply appreciative of any meal that isn't the consistency of beef jerky."
Lisbon raised her eyebrows at him. "I didn't see you signing up for cooking lessons so you could take over the job yourself."
"Well, if I had, I sure wouldn't have taken them from you," he snarked.
Lisbon made a face at him. In truth, his words hurt her feelings a little, but it wouldn't do to let him see that. Michael was just being Michael. There was no point in taking anything he said to heart.
Michael, oblivious, turned to James. "Remember that cake she made for my tenth birthday?"
"I sure do," said James. He shook his head. "I never could figure out how she managed to turn a boxed cake mix into something the consistency of green pond scum."
Stung, Lisbon said nothing. That had been the first birthday any of them had had after their mother died, and she'd tried so hard to make it perfect. Three months after the fact, their father had been nearly catatonic with grief, staring vacantly into space more often than not, rousing himself only to take a pull from the bottle he always had close at hand. She'd tried to get him to go out and get Michael a present, but nothing she'd done had any effect. In the end, she'd gone to the store to get the balloons and streamers herself. To acquire a present Michael wouldn't scoff at, she employed other means.
She chose her quarry and laid her plans. Accordingly, a few days before Michael's birthday, she approached Frankie Goldman, star of the middle school baseball team, and bet him she could hit a home run farther than him. Frankie sized her up and accepted the bet. She told him that if he won, he had to give her the Ryne Sandberg baseball his father had given him. Frankie, a rather lusty twelve year old, had grinned a smug grin and agreed on the condition that if she lost, she would have to French kiss him in front of the entire school. Twelve year old Lisbon agreed without batting an eye. The idea of kissing Frankie in front of the entire school was repugnant, but Lisbon wasn't worried. She knew she could beat him.
The next day, the bet won, she tucked the autographed baseball into her knapsack and headed to the store to buy a cake mix and some ice cream to complete the event. She made the cake, but the boys were right—it was awful. She'd followed the instructions on the box, she could have sworn to it. To this day, she still didn't know what she'd done wrong. The cake was a disaster and their father hadn't gotten Michael a present. She watched Michael pull faces at the cake and told him the baseball was from their dad. Her father hadn't objected. He'd just looked at her with an expression of slight surprise. Then he wished Michael a happy birthday and went back to his drink.
"That was nothing," Tommy said, bringing her back to the present. "What about that oatmeal she made? It was so stiff you could have built bricks out of the stuff."
James shook his head. "All I know is, if I never eat meatloaf again in my life, it will be too soon."
Michael and Tommy groaned simultaneously. "Yes, please, no more meatloaf in this lifetime."
Lisbon tried to smile. They were teasing, just teasing.
James looked at Jane. "How about you, Patrick?"
"Yeah," Michael said. "Have you suffered our dear sister's cooking yet?"
Jane took a sip of water. "She did go through a rather unfortunate baking phase not too long ago," he said over the top of his glass. "To be fair, she did improve a bit over time." He paused. "Of course, that's not saying much."
Her brothers guffawed. Lisbon scowled. Even Jane had turned on her. Traitor. "Oh, shut up, all of you," she said irritably.
"Take it easy, Reese," Michael said with a grin.
She glared at her brothers. "It's not my fault I was too busy trying to prevent you three from killing each other to learn to cook properly."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Lighten up, will you? Can't you take a joke?"
She pressed her lips together, determined not to let her brother get to her.
Jane tracked her reaction and frowned, setting his water glass down.
Laurie smacked Michael on the shoulder. "Stop being such an ass, Michael. You're not exactly a candidate for Top Chef yourself, you know. At least Teresa gets points for trying." Lisbon was surprised by Laurie's defense, but grateful. She'd never had the impression that Laurie cared much for her, though they were always polite. She frowned. It must be pretty bad if Laurie felt the need to step in.
"Maybe a two," Michael said doubtfully. "Two point three, tops."
Lisbon tensed and concentrated on not throwing the last of the dinner rolls at Michael's head. Jane put a reassuring hand on her knee, but she shifted away from him, not wanting him to read her through touch.
Jane hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Well, Michael's right about one thing. This was an amazing meal, Nell. Thank you for all the trouble you went to in order to make it perfect." He got to his feet and addressed the Lisbon men. "Tommy, Michael, James. I propose we express appreciation for the culinary efforts of all our women by doing the dishes," he said, picking up his plate and Lisbon's.
"Patrick, you don't have to do that," Nell said. "You're our guest."
"Nonsense," Jane said gallantly. "What kind of boor would allow you to do the dishes after you slaved away all day preparing such a beautiful meal?"
Nell glanced at James. "What kind of boor, indeed?" Her husband shifted uncomfortably. "All right then," she said. "If you insist."
"I do," Jane said firmly. He turned to the three brothers. "Come along, men. Help me clear the table."
The brothers grumbled a bit, but not seeing that they had much choice in the matter, stood and started helping Jane clear the plates. Lisbon recognized the looks on their faces—she'd seen it on the victims of Jane's schemes countless times before. It was the look of someone who'd been thoroughly bamboozled and wasn't quite sure how it had happened.
Laurie, Nell, and Elspeth continued to chat in the dining room while the men did the dishes. Lisbon took the opportunity to escape. She went to play with the kids instead. She may not have been the best cook in the world, but she could build forts with the best of them.
Xxx
"You all right?" Jane asked as they headed back to the hotel several hours later, after everyone had eaten their fill of pumpkin pie and the children had all gone to bed.
"Hm?" Lisbon dragged her attention away from watching the lights of Chicago flit past the passenger side window and looked over at Jane. "Sure. I'm fine."
"Sorry about before."
"What for?"
"Teasing you about your cooking."
She sighed. "It's no big deal, Jane."
He was silent for a moment. "It was a shortcut," he said at last.
"A shortcut?"
"Yes, it's quite common in situations like this."
Lisbon had no idea what he was talking about. "Situations like what?"
"Your brothers don't know me," he explained. "They already figured out they're not going to be able to bond with me over football or any other sports trivia, which is how they're used to relating with other men they don't know well. As far as they know, the only thing they have in common with me is you."
"What does that have to do with a shortcut?"
"It's the oldest trick in the book. You're trying to con someone, the quickest way to gain their trust is to ally yourself with them against a common enemy."
"Now you're trying to con my brothers?"
"No." He paused. "Well, no, yes, I am, but that's not the point."
"Seriously, you're conning my brothers?" Lisbon asked in alarm. "What for?"
"To get them to like me, of course," he said, as though this were perfectly obvious. "I told you, I have a plan. But in this particular example, they're the con man and I'm the mark."
"You're the mark?"
"Yes. Your brothers invited me to join in their teasing of you, if you recall."
"Because I'm the common enemy," Lisbon said sourly.
"Let's use the term 'uniting element.' You, my dear, could never be my enemy."
"Whatever," Lisbon grumbled.
"The point is, your brothers want to like me for your sake. Just as I want to like them for your sake. But we're operating under certain time constraints here. You and I live halfway across the country and we're only here for the weekend. Thus, the shortcut."
"Uniting against the common enemy," Lisbon repeated dubiously.
"Yes."
"You're saying I shouldn't let my feelings be hurt over being teased about my cooking because it was actually my brothers' way of reaching out to you for my sake," Lisbon concluded.
"Well, you're half right. That would be what I was saying if I thought your feelings were really hurt about the slight to your cooking skills."
"That's not what you're saying, then?" Lisbon said.
He shook his head. "Your feelings weren't hurt about the cooking."
"They weren't?"
He glanced over at her. "Let me ask you something. What would you have said if Michael had insulted the color of nail polish you were wearing?"
"I'm not wearing nail polish," Lisbon pointed out.
"Yes, but if you were, and one of your brothers commented on it, what would you say?" he persisted.
"I would have said he didn't know what he was talking about and told him to go stuff himself."
"Exactly. You don't care about what your brothers think about your taste in nail polish because that is not a quality you value about yourself."
"Okay…" Lisbon said, not sure she was following.
"I assumed you felt the same way about cooking. I never had the impression that you cared for it much."
"I don't," she admitted.
"So you can understand how I could make the mistake of thinking you'd react to being teased about your cooking the same way you would to being teased about nail polish," Jane continued.
Lisbon frowned. "I guess."
"But you didn't."
"Yeah," she said slowly. "I suppose you're right."
He kept his eyes on the road ahead. "Your mom did most of the cooking when you were growing up, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"So you associate cooking with the nurturing actions of a mother."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"You feel that you failed your brothers somehow. That you failed to protect them from your father and failed to support them in all the ways your mother would have. When your brothers tease you about your cooking, all you can hear is that you'll never measure up to your mother. That no matter what you do, you'll never be enough to replace what they lost."
She looked away. "Maybe. A little."
"The thing is, when your brothers tease you about your cooking, they aren't saying any of that," he went on. "All they're doing is teasing you about your cooking."
"So I'm overreacting."
"I didn't say that. Your brothers aren't helping themselves any. They're expressing their rebellion in other ways, that's obvious. But they're not saying what you think they're saying."
"Their 'rebellion?'"
"Of course. You're a maternal figure to them. It's natural for children to rebel against their parents. It's their way of asserting their independence and declaring they are ready to stand on their own. Take Michael's smoking, for example, or Tommy's career choice. Classic declarations of independence."
"Makes sense, I suppose," Lisbon acknowledged. In a Jane sort of way.
He glanced over at her again. "The thing is, you're not their mom."
She looked down at her hands in her lap. "I know that."
"Sure. Your rational brain knows that. Your lizard brain, not so much."
"My lizard brain?"
"Yes, you know. The part of you that reacts instinctively without regard to rational thought."
She sighed. "Okay, so what does my lizard brain think about all this?"
"Your lizard brain thinks of yourself as their mom. And your brothers' lizard brains think of you as their mom, too. So it gets confusing for all of you when you try to separate out your reactions to one another."
Sort of like following Jane's thought processes. She could see what he meant, though, and acknowledged that his observations did contain a grain of truth, however convoluted his reasoning about lizard brains. "So what am I supposed to do about it?"
He reached over and patted her hand. "Nothing. Just be aware that both your brothers and you have your own filters that color your interactions with one another. And try to remember that sometimes, teasing is just teasing."
She slumped back in her seat. "You know, I'm sure I could learn to cook properly if I really wanted to," she muttered.
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "There's not a doubt in my mind that you could. But you don't like it, so why bother?"
"I don't know. It could be useful."
He lowered their joined hands to the console between them but didn't relinquish his hold. "Nonsense. You have me. You'll never need to cook again."
"Really," she said, amused. "Never. In my whole life."
His grip tightened on her hand. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Her breath caught in her chest. She had no idea how to respond to that. Well, she had some idea, but the words still refused to come. Finally she settled on, "Thank you."
He raised an eyebrow. "For volunteering to cook for the next forty years of our lives?"
For coming with her to meet her family for Thanksgiving. For thinking they were going to have another forty years of their lives. For coming up with a plan to get her brothers to like him, for her sake. For noticing when she was unhappy and devoting his considerable brain power to the task of analyzing her family dynamic because he thought he could solve over twenty years of dysfunction over the course of a single weekend. "Yes. And for the pep talk about lizard brains."
He beamed at her. "You're most welcome, my dear."