Chapter Twenty-Eight: Thanksgiving, Hardy Edition
It had been years since Nancy's internal clock had been programmed to recognize weekends or holidays. Years of irregular working hours took their toll on a person. The sun was barely over the horizon Thanksgiving morning when she slipped out of bed, ready to brew a pot of coffee and savor this rare moment of stillness.
She had forgotten, however, the rather Old Mother Hubbard state of the kitchen.
"Damn," she said softly, opening and closing one empty cabinet after another as though looking could make something edible appear. Unsurprisingly, this tactic did not work. Her search turned up only a box of baking soda, some stale cereal, and one bruised apple.
I can only imagine what Hannah would say about this, Nancy thought ruefully, closing the refrigerator door. The housekeeper would be appalled at the young people's lack of attention to domestic necessities. Nancy's stomach rumbled as if in agreement with Hannah's sentiments. But Nancy, who had never been one to dwell on things she could not change, shrugged it off and headed for Frank's room.
Breakfast may be off the table, she thought, groaning internally at her own pun, but I can at least clean up our chaos from yesterday.
As an investigator, Nancy was accustomed to intruding into the spaces and belongings of others; but it still felt terribly personal to be here, surrounded by so many details of Frank's and Callie's personalities and daily routines. The clothes Callie had worn to breakfast yesterday still lay across the foot of the bed, which was itself in a rumpled state which bore witness to its owner's unusually distracted state of mind. Nancy hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to fold Callie's clothes and make the bed. Frank and Callie would be home tonight, and she wanted them to come back to a peaceful and welcoming room.
Frank's bathroom was just as jumbled as she had remembered. Nancy retrieved her crumpled tote bag from the floor and got to work, methodically stowing Callie's supplies away and tossing her own things into her bag, focusing on the task rather than on the oddness of being in that room without Frank or Callie.
Her phone buzzing in her pocket provided a timely distraction. She answered it, tucking the device between her ear and shoulder to keep her hands free. "Hi, Bess!"
"Did I wake you up?" Bess blurted.
"No," Nancy said, a bit taken aback. "I've been up for a little while."
"Oh. Why? What are you doing?"
Was it her imagination, or did Bess sound disappointed? "Nothing much," Nancy said, biting her tongue on the words "cleaning up our wedding prep mess." The marriage was not public knowledge just yet, and it was not her story to tell. She changed the subject. "Were you hoping to wake me up?"
"Sort of. I was going to tell you that you deserved it after bugging me on my vacation."
"Spiteful!" Nancy told her friend, putting away the nail polish she had borrowed from Callie. "What are you doing up, anyway? Isn't it still the middle of the night on Hawaii time?"
Bess groaned. "Yes, but try explaining that to Myra. She woke us up half an hour ago."
"She must be so excited that you're back."
"Actually, she side-eyed me and told me I could go back to Hawaii, she wasn't done playing with Aunt George. Can you believe it?"
Nancy laughed. "I bet Aunt George was thrilled about that."
"Oh, please. George had fun. I can tell." Bess changed topics suddenly. "Did you have breakfast yet?"
"No. We slacked off on our shopping this week."
"Okay, good. I'm dying to talk to you, and I'm cooking. Come over," Bess commanded. "Bring your man if he's up. I want him to shovel our walk."
"Can't Tom do that?"
"I need him to stay inside and keep me warm."
It was Nancy's turn to groan. "I'm not coming over if you two are going to be gross. Didn't you get that out of your system on vacation?"
"Yes, but we didn't know we'd be coming home to snow," Bess said, making it sound like a dirty word.
"It's not that bad, Bessie."
"Whatever. Get over here and let me feed you." And with that, Bess hung up.
Nancy returned to Joe's bathroom for a quick shower. When she stepped back into the bedroom he stirred a little, stretching.
"Good morning," Nancy said, dropping a kiss into his tousled hair on her way to the closet and side-stepping his playful tug on her towel. "Up and at 'em, sunshine. Bess just invited us over for breakfast."
To her surprise, Joe shook his head. "Tell her I appreciate the offer, but no thanks."
"Are you feeling all right?" Nancy asked.
"Never better."
"You know we have nothing to eat here, right?"
He nodded. "That's all right. We're getting two Thanksgiving meals today. I figured I'd use the morning to get some work done."
"The motorcycle?" Nancy guessed, pulling a lacy green top over her head.
"Yeah, and I've got to put in some work on that paper I have due next week, and maybe I'll squeeze in a quick workout." Joe rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
"Ambitious," Nancy commented vaguely, watching him go. She could not decide which was more attractive, his physique or the confidence evident in every move he made.
Drew, pay attention! She gave herself a little shake and snapped her attention back to getting dressed. She pulled on her skirt and tights, retrieved her mother's claddagh ring from Joe's dresser, slipped earrings into her ears. When Joe came out to get dressed she went back into the bathroom to do her makeup.
"Will you come back here after breakfast, or should we just meet at my parents' place?" Joe called, slamming a dresser drawer.
"You know Bess. She's going to want to go over every detail of the past week from each of our perspectives."
"So we'll meet at my parents'," Joe said. She could hear the smile in his voice.
"And go straight from there to Dad's, probably, so you should bring a change of clothes," Nancy reminded him, reaching for her mascara.
Joe's head popped around the door frame. "Right," he said, his brow furrowed. "About that. The dress code is 'Disco Fever,' right?"
Nancy laughed. "You know us so well."
Joe stepped forward so he could lean against the door frame, crossing his arms across his bare chest. "Seriously, though. I've never been to a Drew family Thanksgiving. Are we talking black tie? Business casual? Cocktail attire?"
"Nothing that elaborate!" Nancy assured him. "Dad wears a regular suit. I'll change into a nice dress when we get there."
"Why would anyone choose to wear restrictive clothing today, of all days? I don't know about you, but I'm planning to eat my weight in pumpkin pie. So why the formality?"
Nancy could understand his confusion. She knew that the Hardys' family events were laid-back affairs, prioritizing family and conviviality over elegance. Her father, on the other hand, had always derived pleasure from a more genteel type of celebration.
"It's...it's actually really nice," she said, wishing she could explain it better. "We still have fun. Dad and Aunt Eloise just like to do things in style. I don't mean that your family doesn't- "
"Nan," he said, interrupting her. "I think I get it."
"Good, because I'm not sure where I was planning to go with that sentence."
Joe had wandered off to finish dressing. Nancy zipped her cosmetics bag shut with an air of finality, giving herself one last inspection in the mirror and wondering if she should pull her hair up.
"You look fine," Joe said, poking his head in again to look at her. Nancy turned away from the mirror and went to him, reaching out for a hug. Joe twisted away.
"Better not," he advised, gesturing to his grease-stained jeans and hoodie. He had pulled on work clothes, anticipating his time in the garage with his motorcycle. Nancy rested a hand lightly in the center of his chest and popped up on tiptoes to kiss him lightly.
"Have fun. Don't eat all the leftover wedding cake without me."
"And you said we had nothing for breakfast!" Joe joked.
"Seriously. Eat the cake and there will be unpleasant consequences," Nancy said, waving a finger at him sternly.
"Yes, ma'am," Joe said. He kissed her again. "Drive safe. I'll see you soon."
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Despite Bess's moaning about the weather, it was nice to be out in the snow-crisp world. The sun was shining again, dazzling on the snow. Nancy pulled her sunglasses out of the glove compartment and slid them on. It was very early in the season for snow cover, but she would happily take this over the mopey, incessant rain of last week.
At Bess and Tom's place, George's Jeep was parked out front. Nancy eased her roadster in beside it and let herself into the house, following the sound of voices to the kitchen. She paused in the doorway, drinking in the cheerful scene. George was leaning against the counter, talking animatedly with Tom about the stunts in a recent action movie. Myra was playing under the table. And Bess was presiding over the stove, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and her blonde curls tousled artistically. Nancy was struck, again, by how well pregnancy suited Bess. She looked tan and relaxed and beautiful.
George looked over, suddenly, as though she felt the weight of Nancy's gaze. Her suspicious expression softened into a smile. "Nance, hi!"
"Hi!" Nancy said, stepping forward. "Welcome home, you guys."
"Thanks!" Bess called, waving a spatula. "No Joe?"
"No, he wanted some downtime."
"Nancy! Nan-Nan-Nan-Nan!" Myra shrieked, running to her. The little girl had a large seashell clasped in each small hand. "Look!" she said, waving her treasures.
Nancy knelt to examine them. "How beautiful!" she said with genuine admiration.
"They're from Ha-why," Myra explained, her brow furrowed as she carefully pronounced the new word. Then she relaxed and pushed one shell up against Nancy's ear. "There's no crab in there. You can listen."
"Is that the ocean?" Nancy asked.
Myra nodded. "But the waves won't come out into your ear. Don't worry."
"That's a relief."
"She hasn't put those down since we gave them to her," Tom said, handing Nancy a large mug of coffee made just the way she liked it. He looked just as tan and relaxed as Bess did, if a little tired. "There are muffins on the table, and eggs and bacon coming up."
"Thanks, Tom. Happy Thanksgiving!" Nancy said, taking a grateful sip. "George, I'm surprised to see you here."
"I'm here in a non-supervisory capacity," George said, grabbing a muffin.
"Coffee, George?" Tom asked.
"Is it that hazelnut shit?"
"Yeah, sorry. Too girly for you, Fayne?" Tom teased. He handed her a mug. "Here you go. Black as your heart and just as hazelnutty."
"I...I'm not quite sure how to take that," George replied, shaking her head at him.
Bess, meanwhile, had turned to give Nancy a thorough once-over. "Looking good, chica! But aren't you a little casual for Thanksgiving?" Bess pressed a hand dramatically to her heart. "Don't tell me you're finally entering your rebellious phase."
"That's casual?" George scoffed, glancing from Nancy's skirt to her own jeans and battered Converse sneakers.
"No, I'm going to change later. We're going to the Hardys' first." Nancy did not miss the knowing look Bess and George exchanged. "What?" she demanded.
"We're going to the Hardys'," Bess echoed sweetly. "We go everywhere together. We are in love. Yeah, Drew, George told on you. You've got some details to divulge, darlin'."
"George is thinking of breaking up with Regan!" Nancy said quickly.
"Real nice. Why throw me under the bus?" George protested.
Bess was not falling for it. "That's old news, babe. Spill."
Nancy had one last card up her sleeve. "But I was hoping you'd tell me more about what happened when you posed as buyers for that painting."
Tom, who had been making up a breakfast plate for Myra, looked up. "It was awesome!" he said enthusiastically.
"My husband thinks he wants to fight crime now," Bess said, taking a seat at the table. The other girls followed suit.
"Not as a detective, though. I'm thinking more of a vigilante-type superhero," Tom told Nancy. "Pending really cool costume design, of course."
"And, you know, superpowers," George added.
Tom waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't being devastatingly handsome count?"
"It does in my book," Bess cooed, leaning over to give him a kiss.
"I told her I wouldn't come if they were going to be like that," Nancy said to George, who promptly reached over and gave her cousin a light tug on the ear.
"Ow! What was that for?"
"Making me lose my appetite," George said.
"Grow up," Bess retorted.
Nancy had known Bess and George long enough to see when there were storm clouds gathering. She quickly interrupted. "So, aside from the criminal element, how amazing was Hawaii?"
"It was perfect!" Bess said. "The beaches, the scenery, the history...but wait, Nan, we were talking about the painting. No, we were talking about you and Joe. I don't even know where to start!"
"Start with the painting," George advised.
"It was a breeze," Bess said, trying to sound offhand.
"I've heard so many stories about the mysteries you girls solved together," Tom said. "But what a rush! Nance, if you ever need any help in the future, I'm your man."
"Be careful what you wish for," Nancy warned. "I'm sure George filled you in on how things went for me and Joe."
"You mean how I saved your butts? Yeah, I may have mentioned that," George said.
"George said 'butt!' " Myra sing-songed.
"Always with the censorship, kid," George grumbled affectionately. "I'm sorry. I meant I saved their pretty faces."
"But that doesn't happen every time, right?" Tom argued.
Bess shuddered and reached for a second muffin. "Even once is too much."
"It doesn't happen every time," Nancy said, "but it's always a risk. Well, almost always."
"Depends on the case," George said.
"The important thing is that it's all wrapped up, thanks in no small part to our sweet acting skills," Bess said. "Myra, don't tip your juice."
"It's all gone!" Myra said, holding out her cup.
"On it," Tom said, taking the cup for a refill.
Nancy turned back to Bess. "Tell us about Hawaii. Did you lie on the beach the entire time?"
"Mostly, yeah," Tom said.
"It would have been a sin to do anything else, with a beach that gorgeous right outside the hotel," Bess said. "We did a couple day trip type tours, and Tom took surfing lessons. But mostly we just sunbathed, and ate at the most delicious little local restaurant..."
Tom groaned. "Don't bring it up. I'll be on the next flight back there just to get dinner one more time."
"Can I come, Daddy?" Myra piped up.
"Sure, Sugar. We'll take you next time and you can come snorkeling with me," Tom said.
Everyone was finished eating by then. Tom began cleaning Myra up and George started clearing the table. When Nancy moved to help her, Bess grabbed her wrist.
"Sit," she said. "You're not off the hook. Tell me about you and Joe. And I mean everything."
" 'Everything' is not suitable for little ears," Nancy said dryly, glancing at Myra.
"Spell it out if you need to."
Nancy took a sip of her coffee, dawdling on purpose to annoy her friend. "I think I'm moving in with him," she said finally.
As she had expected, Bess practically levitated out of her chair. "What do you mean, you think?!"
George looked interested, too. "Whoa. I haven't heard this part."
"Has he asked you yet?" Bess demanded.
Nancy nodded. "But I just realized that I never actually answered the question."
"Okay, I'm assuming that's the part that isn't PG," George said.
"Nance, you dirty girl!" Bess teased.
"Let's talk some more about Hawaii," Nancy said, blushing.
Bess leaned in. "When did he ask? Was it really romantic?"
"It was the second time. He wrote me a sonnet," Nancy said, smiling at the memory of those words. "The first time he just sort of asked as we were rushing out to do some work on the case."
Tom let out a whistle. "Way to set the bar high, Hardy."
"Typical Joe," Bess said. "But let me just say, a sonnet? Wow! No wonder you didn't get an answer out. When are you going to move in? And when are you going to tell your dad? Do you think he's going to be upset?"
"Not really, because he's getting re-married soon- "
Bess levitated again. "He's what?"
"He proposed to Camille."
Bess threw her hands in the air. "Okay, maybe that vacation wasn't worth it after all. You go away for one week and everything changes!"
"Girl, if you can't keep tabs on the social situation here from a few measly time zones away, maybe you're losing your edge," George teased. Bess made a face at her.
"Very funny." She looked to Nancy again, growing serious. "I'm happy for you, babe."
"You don't think it's too soon?" Nancy asked.
"No," Bess said.
"Maybe," George said, at the same time.
"No," Bess said, more firmly. "Look, you've seen them together. You know that thing Joe does with his eyes? When he looks at you and makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world?"
"Hey!" Tom protested good-naturedly. "I'm still here, you know."
"Trust me, handsome, I know," Bess said, giving him a flirtatious wink. "It's not real, is what I mean. It's something he picked up over the years to help get information out of suspects, or to pick up girls in bars, or whatever."
"That's a little cynical," George remarked.
"Who's the flirting expert here?" Bess pointed out. "I know artistry when I see it."
"I know what you mean," Nancy said, wondering where Bess was going with this. It was true, Joe had a combination of innate charm and practiced body language that he could use to draw people in if he wanted. But she did not see how that had anything to do with their relationship.
"He doesn't turn that on for you. I see him look at you, and it's deeper than that. You're a lucky girl, Nance."
"Still here," Tom said.
"Hush," Bess scolded. "I married you, remember?"
George had re-joined them at the table, now, with a fresh cup of coffee. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but can we talk about Regan? I want some perspective."
Bess was only too happy to oblige. The rest of the morning flew by, partly spent dissecting George's romantic situation and partly playing with Myra. After what felt like only a few minutes, Nancy glanced at the clock and realized she had better head over to the Hardy home.
"Ready to brave the dragon?" George joked as Nancy buttoned her coat.
"Tell me you're not talking about Laura. She's the sweetest woman," Bess said.
"She's talking about Aunt Gertrude," Nancy told her friend. "She's been a little difficult lately. But actually, last time I saw her she barely insulted me, so here's hoping for another day with no drama." She held up her hand, fingers crossed. George was laughing, and even Bess looked amused.
"Sorry, Nan. I hope she doesn't call you a slut today," George chuckled.
Nancy rolled her eyes. "Happy Thanksgiving, you guys. Say hi to the family for me."
"Happy Thanksgiving!" her friends chorused, and Myra hugged her exuberantly around the knees.
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Nancy had been expecting a bit of a crowd at the Hardys'. She knew that Laura Hardy always gathered as many lonely chicks as she could under her wings at holiday time. What she had not expected, however, was to arrive to a yard full of running, dodging people. For just a second her instincts told her to get down, to get out of the area; but a moment later her rational mind caught up and she realized that it was a playful scene rather than a panicked one. Nancy relaxed and grabbed her purse, ready to get inside.
A snowball exploded onto the side of her roadster, missing her by mere inches, as soon as she opened the door.
"Noncombatant! Hold your fire!" she yelled, crouching behind the door to scope out the situation again. Judging by the snow shovels parked in a drift next to the driveway, the men had originally come outside to work up an appetite by shoveling snow. But nobody was shoveling now. Joe was on the roof of the garage, raining snowballs down on anyone who came within range. Fenton had taken cover behind a wheelbarrow, which he was using to store a stockpile of ammunition. The normally stately Chief Ezra Collig was running across the lawn in pursuit of Sam Radley, who was firing snowballs back at the older man as he ran. And the pilot, Jack Wayne, was lurking behind Laura's rose bushes.
Nancy calculated the odds, accepted that they were against her, and came out fighting. She got in a few good shots, picking her targets at random. It seemed to be a free-for-all, anyway, with no clear teams.
After a few minutes Joe clambered down from the roof and ran across the lawn to intercept her, empty hands raised high. "Truce?"
She dropped her snowball and stepped to him. When he kissed her, his lips were cold. She smiled against his skin. He smelled like fresh, cold air, wood smoke, and aftershave. His eyes were sparkling.
"Happy Thanksgiving," he said happily. And that was as far as he got, because just then Jack and Sam pelted them with a barrage of snowballs, and they sprang apart.
Nancy took advantage of the ensuing chase scene to slip inside, brushing snow off her coat and skirt and stomping it off her boots on the porch. She heard footsteps behind her and whipped around.
"Don't worry, Miss Drew, I'm exiting the lists as well," Chief Collig rumbled in a friendly way. He reached past her and opened the door, half-bowing and gesturing for her to go ahead. Warmth and delicious holiday smells rushed to greet them. Nancy slipped her boots and coat off and followed Chief Collig along to the kitchen.
"Laura, it smells like Paradise in here," he said.
"Thanks, Ezra. Nancy! Happy Thanksgiving!" Laura bustled over to hug her but jumped a little at her touch. "Your hands are like ice, sweetie. Don't tell me you let those hooligans rope you into their little game."
"I got ambushed," Nancy said merrily.
"You didn't have to join in," Laura scolded. "Sit down, have some coffee, warm yourself up."
"Can I help you with anything?" Nancy offered, accepting the coffee and waving hello to Ethel Radley and Aunt Gertrude. A flash of movement outside the kitchen window caught her eye: Sam and Fenton were chasing Joe, who swung himself easily up into a tree. Fenton started right up after him. Nancy giggled and Laura followed her gaze, shaking her head at her husband's antics.
"He's still a big kid," she told Nancy. "Ezra, what do you think you're doing?"
"Earning my keep," Chief Collig said, going on stolidly mashing the potatoes. "I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen, Laura."
Laura did not argue. "In that case, I'll finish up the cranberry sauce, and Nancy, you can help Ethel put together the pies. Gertrude, have you seen my good ladle?"
Though more sedate than the riotous play going on outside, the work of meal preparation was no less joy-filled. Nancy took her place beside Ethel, smiling at her. She did not know Ethel well, but she had always liked Sam's pretty, fun-loving wife. Ethel, who was covering the pies with intricate lattice-work top crusts, made room for Nancy to assist her.
Nancy was still a bit nervous around Gertrude, with the kind of constant wariness one feels when there is a bee in the room. But she soon pushed that to the back of her mind and lost herself in the work and the happy chatter of her fellow-laborers.
And then, suddenly, there were happy voices at the door and everyone came in at once, a happy tide of well-wishers with Callie and Frank at their head.
"We found a few more strays for you to feed, Mom," Joe cried, steering Frank into the kitchen. He had an arm slung around his brother's shoulders. Callie came right behind on Fenton's arm.
"If anyone looks like a stray it's you, not me," Frank retorted. It was true. Frank was dressed nicely, in khakis and a button-down shirt, whereas Joe was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
"Boys," Fenton said, with mild rebuke.
For several minutes the kitchen was a terrible jumble. People were embracing and calling out their congratulations; Callie's big brown eyes were sparkling; and Frank was referring to her as "my wife" as often as possible and beaming like a lighthouse; and Joe was stealing bites of pie filling and making ribald remarks to see Callie turn pink. At length Gertrude, having had enough of the chaos, ordered everyone to calm down.
"Get this circus under control, or it won't be my fault if the gravy turns out lumpy!" she cried over the din.
"Auntie, you're not capable of producing lumpy gravy," Joe said fondly.
Gertrude just said "Hmph." But she looked pleased.
Laura closed the oven door and straightened up, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm so glad you're here. I hope you didn't have any trouble on the roads."
Frank and Callie looked at each other and laughed.
"We were doing all right at first," Frank said. He was standing against the kitchen counter, his left hand draped over Callie's shoulder. Callie was leaning back against his broad chest, lightly holding his hand and toying with the new ring it wore. Everything about their posture spoke of mutual comfort and contentment.
"At first?" Joe echoed.
"What happened?" Fenton asked.
Laura gasped. "Don't tell us you were in an accident."
"No," Callie said quickly. "But someone else had slid off the road, so we stopped to help."
"Frank!" Gertrude exclaimed. "Don't you know that's how crazy people lure in their victims? You, of all people, should be aware of these things!"
"It wasn't a crazy person, Aunt Gert. It was a mother with a couple of kids in the backseat. Her tires were bald," he added, before Joe could ask. "She was taking it easy, but she still spun out on a curve. No one was hurt."
"Oh, good," Ethel murmured.
"What did you do?" Laura asked.
"We tried to call for help, but there was no cell reception, so I decided to drive up the road a bit and try calling from there," Frank said. "And that's when we realized that we were stuck too."
Joe groaned. "We've been saying for ages that we need to add sand to our emergency kits."
"Don't get him started!" Callie begged. "He's been grumbling about traction and being prepared all day."
But Frank was already started discussing the pros and cons of sand and cat litter, obviously angry with himself for not having foreseen the need for traction.
"So how'd you get out?" Sam asked finally.
"We all got in our car, because it had more gas, and we ran the heater intermittently and entertained the kids for a few hours until someone with a truck happened by," Callie said. "We had a warm blanket and some snacks."
"Yeah, the emergency kit wasn't completely useless." Frank was obviously still annoyed.
"I bet you were so relieved to get to the bed and breakfast and get some rest," Laura said sympathetically. "Some honeymoon that turned out to be!"
Callie and Frank just looked at each other again.
"I know that look," Joe grumbled. "That's your inside joke look. Care to share with the rest of the class?"
"Who gets to tell this part?" Callie asked.
"Go ahead," Frank told her.
"Really?" Callie said gleefully. "Okay, then. Here's the short version: when we got to our room, there was a cow in it."
A general chorus of disbelief erupted.
"A what?" Laura demanded.
"A cow!" Callie repeated, giggling. "A full-grown Holstein cow."
"And it was eating hay off the pillow," Frank added through his own laughter.
They let people laugh and exclaim for a bit, partly because they were enjoying the reaction and partly because they were both laughing too hard to speak. When they finally regained their composure, they explained that the proprietors' son, who was home on break from college, had misread the guest log and thought that his aunt and uncle were staying in that room. He had brought the cow in through the French windows as a joke and then gone out to meet some friends for drinks.
"That is no way to operate a business," Gertrude sniffed.
"We were pretty angry at first," Frank confessed. "By the time they got the cow out of the house and opened up a new room for us, it was late, and we were too tired to see the humor."
"They were so nice, though," Callie chimed in. "They made us dinner and gave us a partial refund for the inconvenience. And the room was lovely. We're thinking of going back for a weekend in the spring."
"Just make sure you reserve a room in the non-cud-chewing wing next time," Fenton advised mirthfully, prompting another wave of laughter.
"Well," Laura said finally, "I'm sorry you didn't have a more restful time, but that's a wonderful addition to the family lore. You'll be telling that one to your grandkids." She glanced at Gertrude, who was still working on the meal and beginning to look impatient.
"I think everyone had better clear out so Gertrude and I can put the finishing touches on the meal," she said lightly. "Everything should be ready in a few minutes. Joseph, Samuel, if I see either of you put your fingers in another dish I'm going to revoke your dessert privileges!"
Everyone dispersed into the living room, where there was a fire burning in the fireplace and a stack of records waiting beside the record player. Jack and Sam made a beeline for the albums and began flipping through for something to put on, arguing in a friendly manner over the merits of various artists.
Nancy came up beside Joe, twining her arm through his. "Hi."
"Hi." He smiled down at her. "Having fun?"
"Yes. I'm surprised Chet isn't here, though." The Morton family, which had never been one for extravagant festivities, had just about given up celebrating holidays after Iola's death. Chet invariably showed up at the Hardy home for his fill of family togetherness and apple pie.
"He'll show up," Joe said offhandedly. "Is everything going all right?"
He was asking about Gertrude, she realized. She nodded. "Not one rude word. And she was pretty tame yesterday, too. Has she seen a doctor already, or is she just building up for another outbreak?"
"I'm not sure. I'll go ask Mom about it." Joe slipped off toward the kitchen and Nancy moved further into the living room, looking for Callie.
For once, her friend was not the center of attention. Callie was sitting in Frank's lap in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. She was wearing a thick, drapey fair isle sweater over her favorite skinny jeans, and she looked radiant. Nancy told her so.
"I don't know if it's the wedding or the baby, but you're actually glowing."
Frank batted his eyelashes at her. "Thanks. I do feel pretty today."
"I meant your wife," Nancy said, rolling her eyes at him. "Are you guys getting excited about your OB/GYN appointment? It's next week, right?"
"Excited, nervous, impatient..." Callie said, and Frank nodded.
"That covers it."
Joe knelt next to Nancy's chair just then, gesturing for Callie and Frank to lean in.
"I talked to Mom," he said quietly.
"About...?" Frank asked, raising an eyebrow at his brother.
"Aunt Gert."
"What's going on?" Callie asked, her tone hushed and filled with concern.
"She did see her doctor. Everything's straightened out."
Frank frowned. "How?"
"It wasn't what we were all thinking," Joe said. There was no need for him to go down the list. They knew they had all been thinking along the same lines: Alzheimer's, or dementia, or even a tumor. The relief in Joe's voice piqued Nancy's curiosity.
"What, then?" she asked quietly.
"It was an interaction between her blood pressure meds and a new anti-anxiety pill her old doctor had started her on. They changed her prescription, and she's back to her old self."
"Just like that?" Frank still looked skeptical.
Joe nodded. "Mom said there should be no permanent damage. We caught it pretty quickly."
"That's wonderful news," Callie said warmly.
It was not much longer before Laura was calling them all to the table, where they all managed to fit themselves in amidst a great deal of laughter and jovial re-arranging. Joe had to go out to the garage and fetch an extra folding chair for himself.
"It's a good thing Chet isn't here yet," he said, wedging the chair in between Nancy and Ethel and climbing over the back to take his seat. "Should I text him and tell him to bring his own chair?"
"Just think, next year we'll be making room for a high chair!" Laura said with satisfaction. Nancy saw Callie touch her belly, eyes full of wonder. It was a strange and wonderful idea: by next Thanksgiving, this person they were barely aware of right now was going to be a separate individual with a name and a personality.
Fenton began to carve the turkey. As he worked, he spoke. "I'd like to take a moment to express my intense gratitude for this meal and for the faces I see gathered around the table," he said. "This has been the greatest year of my life."
"You say that every year, Dad," Joe said.
"It's true every year," Fenton told him. "I won't make you go around the table and tell us all what you're thankful for. But I think we each have an answer to that question right there in our hearts or on the tip of our tongue. So let's take a moment to reflect on that."
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
I'm thankful for mysteries solved and mysteries to come, Nancy thought. I'm thankful for Joe. I'm thankful for this family. She felt no trace, today, of the slight outside-looking-in feeling she had struggled with after the wedding yesterday. She belonged, without question.
After a moment, the platters of food began their rounds and conversation began to flow. Nancy couldn't help laughing as she passed along one platter, which was piled high with pancakes.
"Cal, I think these are for you!"
Callie laughed, too. "Mrs. Hardy, you're the best." She helped herself to the pancakes, but Nancy noticed that there were a few other items on her plate as well.
Any lingering thoughts Nancy might have entertained about being on her best behavior had evaporated in that initial barrage of snowballs. The atmosphere around the table was as informal as Joe had promised, hectic and noisy and joyful. And Joe had been right about Aunt Gertrude. She was her old self: acerbic but no longer cruel, peppery but lucid. Nancy found herself completely relaxed and enjoying the meal.
Chet arrived in time to fetch another folding chair and balance his plate on a few inches of un-occupied table space. He had a hollow-eyed, haunted look which dissipated as quickly as Laura could sooth it away with good food and unconditional welcome. For her part, Laura looked completely satisfied once he had arrived. It was obvious that in her mind, the family circle was now complete.
This is perfect, Nancy thought, looking around the room once more.
Beside her, Joe reached for her hand and cocked his head ever-so-slightly. Nancy nodded, assuring him that she was all right.
"Thank you for inviting me," she said softly.
"It wouldn't be the same without you," Joe murmured back. "Now, I think it's time for pie!"