Chapter Twenty-Nine: Thanksgiving, Drew Edition

The sun was beginning to set as Nancy parked her roadster in the Drews' driveway, between Camille's car and an unfamiliar Prius. Joe was following behind in his truck- they had thought it best to drive separate vehicles, since they did not know what their plans would be after dinner- and he had caught a red light after she had already passed through. While she waited for him to catch up, she studied the pristine layer of snow blanketing the front yard. There were no footprints, no furrows made by scooping hands, no craters where people had fallen; and somehow the unmarred snow seemed symbolic to Nancy. Her family was reserved and formal; how could Joe enjoy spending part of his holiday here, especially after the boisterous fun of the Hardy gathering?

Joe's truck bounced up the driveway, wrenching her attention back to the present. Nancy stepped out of her car and walked back to greet him as he jumped lightly down from the cab.

"Well, here we are," she said awkwardly.

"Here we are," Joe agreed, slamming the truck door shut behind him. He sounded much more relaxed than Nancy felt. "What now?" he asked. "Do we climb in your bedroom window and change before anyone spots us out of dress code?"

"Can you really climb up there with a garment bag?"

Joe tilted his head, looking at the house and considering. "Maybe."

Nancy let out the breath she'd been holding in a sudden laugh. "Let's take the stairs, just to be safe."

"Since when do you go with the safe option?" Joe grumbled, bounding up the steps to get the door for her.

"Would you rather spend Thanksgiving hanging off the side of a house, or eating Hannah's turkey?" Nancy demanded.

"Fair enough," Joe conceded.

Once inside, Nancy peeked into the living room to wave a quick greeting. "Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!"

There was a general buzz of returned greetings, dominated by her aunt's delighted cry: "Nancy! It's so good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too, Aunt Eloise."

"Get over here and tell me everything," Eloise demanded.

Nancy gestured to her outfit and Joe's jeans. "Absolutely. Just give us a minute to get changed."

"Oh, naturally. Take all the time you need," Eloise said, her raised eyebrows belying her casual tone. Ignoring this, Nancy grabbed Joe's hand and withdrew, pulling him up the stairs.

"Hey, Nan. We can take turns," Joe offered, his voice low. Nancy paused on the landing and looked back at him, confused.

"Why the sudden delicacy?"

"Your aunt looked at me funny," Joe muttered.

"Oh, is that all?" Nancy resumed her course toward her bedroom. "I promise we're not scandalizing Aunt Eloise. And you have nothing to worry about, anyway. She's too well-bred to say anything to you."

"Yeah, but what will she say to you?" Joe demanded. He closed her bedroom door anyway and slung his garment bag down on the bed.

Nancy grinned at him. "Knowing Aunt Eloise, she'll hound me for all the details of our relationship and tell me all about her latest conquests. And she may attempt to have 'the talk' with me, despite the fact that she's had 'the talk' with me at least once a year since I was twelve." She was shimmying efficiently out of her clothes as she spoke. She dropped her shirt on the bed and made a hurry-up sort of gesture at Joe.

"Multi-task, Hardy."

"Yes, ma'am," he said automatically, reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. Once prodded into action, he worked quickly.

"I feel like a stage actor between scenes," he quipped, kicking off his jeans.

"You better hurry, then, or you'll miss your cue," Nancy teased.

"Will you zip me?" she added, turning her back to him and gathering her hair over one shoulder to get it out of the way. She had slipped into a cocktail dress which was much more modern than the dress she had selected for Frank and Callie's wedding: sapphire blue and form-fitting, with a low sweetheart neckline.

"Sure, if you'll tie my tie," Joe said amiably.

"What tie? You're not even wearing pants yet."

Joe gently eased her zipper up the back of the dress, finishing up by planting a kiss at the nape of her neck. "Breathe, beautiful."

Nancy sighed at him. "Where's your tie? I'll pre-tie it while you put some clothes on."

"Nan, seriously. Relax. I'll be dressed in two more seconds. What's the rush?"

"Who's rushing?" Nancy stepped forward, looping the tie around his collar as he finished buttoning his shirt. She concentrated on tying the knot, keeping her eyes lowered so he could not read her face.

"This is going to be a little dull compared to your house," she said tentatively. "Dad's going to go on and on about the wine, and Camille will want to talk about the stock market, and- "

"Is that what this is about?" Joe interrupted, pocketing the cuff link he had been fastening in order to rest both hands on her shoulders. "You think I won't fit in? I can talk about the stock market, Nan. I even know some things about wine. I'm not a completely dumb jock."

Nancy looked up, horrified. "That is not what I meant! I just thought you might be bored, that's all."

"If I get too bored, I'll hoot like an owl three times. That'll be your signal to meet me in the basement, where we can tunnel our way to freedom," Joe said.

"You're crazy," Nancy told him, laughing despite herself.

"And so are you if you think I can't handle a nice evening with your family." Joe released her and fished his final cuff link out of his pocket. "All right, Drew. It's no tuxedo, but I feel pretty damn dashing. I'm ready to go act civilized for a few hours. You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's do this."

Aunt Eloise, who was accepting a drink from a young man Nancy vaguely recognized, lit up with pure delight when she saw Nancy and Joe re-enter the room.

"There you are," she called, hurrying toward them with her distinctive gliding movements. Eloise Drew moved like the world was a stage and she was the principal dancer. She had been a dancer at one time, in fact, and Nancy's early ballet training had all been due to Eloise.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Aunt Eloise," Nancy said, kissing her aunt's cheek. While it was true that Nancy did not have many relatives, she was certain that Eloise would have been a favorite even if the family had been larger. Her father's sister was intelligent, cultured, and personable.

"Nancy, we are going to have a nice long chat, but I must say hello to this handsome fellow first," Eloise said now, taking Joe by the arm. "Get yourself a drink in the meantime, darling. Dalton is an absolute magician with a cocktail shaker."

"Dalton?" Nancy echoed, slightly puzzled.

The young man she had spotted earlier came forward. "At your service, Miss Drew."

"Please, call me Nancy," she said, shaking his hand. The young man was about her age. She catalogued the details of his appearance in her mind, the habit deeply ingrained whether she was working a case or not: hazel eyes, dark hair, broad shoulders, expensive suit. His handshake was a lawyer's handshake- the grip firm, the palm soft.

"Dalton Brandt," he said. "I'm interning with your father's firm."

"It's nice to meet you, Dalton."

"The pleasure is all mine," he said, and the look in his eyes added a depth of meaning to the polite words. Nancy was surprised. Interns rarely flirted with her. She was the boss's daughter and therefore out of bounds. But Dalton was dancing very close to the line.

"I hear you're the guy to see for a good drink around here," she said lightly, before he could attempt to take things further.

Dalton moved back toward the bar area, an arrangement of bottles and glasses on a side table. "My reputation precedes me. Let me guess...a Manhattan?" He was already reaching for the bourbon.

"You're awfully confident," Nancy said. "What if I said I wanted the peach vodka?"

"Then I'd call you a liar." Dalton poured as he spoke. "I put myself through college tending bar. You get pretty good at reading people. You're not the type to go right for the vodka at a family gathering. You're a classic."

Nancy stepped closer, intrigued. "So you can guess anyone's drink after just a brief introduction?"

"Pretty close to it, at least."

"Okay...tell me what Camille would get."

"Camille's the vodka type. She wants a drink with an impact. She's a little nervous about being here, and she has a stressful job," Dalton said without hesitation.

"Okay, what about Joe?"

"Your boyfriend? He's a beer guy, but he'll drink anything available at a party."

"And I thought I was the detective," Nancy said, accepting the glass he held out to her. "Thanks, Dalton." Out of the corner of her eye she had seen Carson and Camille converging on her position. She set her glass down now and stepped into her father's embrace.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Dad!" she said.

"Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart. Thank you for coming."

Nancy, who had been returning Camille's polite hug and air kiss, raised an eyebrow at the lawyer. "Why wouldn't I come?" she asked.

"Oh, well, you know. You had multiple obligations today," Carson said vaguely.

"Dad, I've never missed a holiday with you," Nancy said, feeling slightly unsettled. Things really were changing. She had not even moved out yet and already she felt like a guest in this home.

Carson seemed to feel the awkwardness of the moment, too. He stood silent for a moment before spotting Eloise beckoning to Nancy.

"Your aunt wants to see you," he said, relief evident in his voice. "I'll let you two have your tête-à-tête."

Eloise, looking elegant in an opalescent silvery dress, had settled herself on the sofa. She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her skirt and looked at Nancy over the top of her glasses.

"You looked all at sea, darling."

Nancy nodded. She took a sip of her drink. Eloise waited, looking expectant.

"It's good, isn't it."

Nancy nodded again. "Very good."

"What did I tell you? That boy has a divine touch with the booze," Eloise said, reaching for her own glass and taking a generous swallow. "All right. I want to hear everything, Nance. What is going on in your life?"

"If you would text me back more often we wouldn't have so much catching up to do," Nancy teased.

"Oh, honestly, darling. I refuse to spend all day typing out small talk one letter at a time. Here's a thought: you could call, now and then, instead of texting."

"Mea culpa," Nancy pled. "I'll call more, I promise."

"Good." Eloise settled back against the cushions. "Now, tell me how you and Joe ended up looking like a pair of roller derby girls after a rough bout. Is that courtesy of the murderer you rounded up the other day?"

Nancy touched the faded bruise on her cheek ruefully. "I knew I should have worn more makeup."

"I once cut my head like that when a bed frame broke." Eloise leaned in, lowering her voice. "I was dating a chef who loved to be tied up, and things got a bit out of hand. I probably should not be telling you that!"

Nancy tried not to laugh. Eloise had been giving herself conversational whiplash for years. Her forthright, free-spirited personality had always been at war with the part of her conscience which believed she ought to be a wholesome maternal figure and a mentor to her motherless niece. Nancy knew from experience that Eloise's conscience would subside quickly.

"On that note," Eloise continued, "your Joe certainly grew up handsome. He always was a charmer. I hope you're being careful."

"I have an IUD," Nancy assured her.

Eloise shook her head. "I meant emotionally careful, darling. You've never been one for casual relationships."

"This isn't a casual relationship," Nancy said softly, tracing a finger around the rim of her glass. As she had told Joe, she had been expecting Eloise to probe into their relationship. But she had not expected this sudden caution; and she felt that Eloise, of all people, should understand not wanting to take the safe path in life.

"Are you sure he understands that?" Eloise asked. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Nance. Joe isn't Ned. There's something wild in that boy."

Nancy was saved from further discussion by the arrival of her father, who seated himself beside her and stretched an arm out along the back of the couch.

"I'm sorry, girls. I couldn't pass up the chance to spend a little time with both of you at once. I never seem to see either of you anymore," the lawyer said.

"Why waste your time on us when you could be canoodling with the new fiancee?" Eloise asked, her eyes twinkling.

"We don't canoodle," Carson said, pronouncing the word with dignified distaste.

"Then what's the point of marrying her?" Eloise demanded.

Carson half-rose, feigning irritation. "I just remembered why I don't see much of you," he said.

"Grab his sleeve, Nancy," Eloise said, laughing. "Sit, Car. I'll behave."

"What were you talking about, before I interrupted?" Carson asked, returning to his seat.

Nancy and Eloise exchanged glances.

"Work," Nancy said.

"Pomeranians," Eloise said simultaneously.

Nancy arched an eyebrow. "Pomeranians?" she echoed incredulously. Eloise just laughed.

"I'm sorry. I'm lousy at improvising."

"You were telling Nancy inappropriate stories about your social life again," Carson guessed.

"I'd hardly call it inappropriate. She's a grown woman," Eloise rebutted.

"Why don't you tell us about work, Dad," Nancy suggested quickly. "Didn't you have an interesting case going on?"

Her re-direction worked. Before long the three of them were deeply immersed in conversation, catching each other up on recent career developments and comparing notes. Though on the surface the lawyer, the detective, and the teacher occupied very different spheres, they had long since discovered that they brought many of the same skills to bear: persistence, good acting, psychological insight, and attention to detail, among others.

Throughout all of this, Nancy had been surreptitiously checking on Joe every few minutes. He had mingled and talked and poured himself a drink, and now he was chatting animatedly with Dalton and Camille. If he were finding this party pretentious or dull, he gave no sign of it.

But then, Nancy reflected, Joe's an expert at staying cool under pressure. He had no problem goofing around while we were being held at gunpoint; he could easily hide it if he were bored with us. She still could not rid herself of the niggling worry that she was ruining his holiday.

"Dad, Aunt Eloise, will you excuse me?" she said finally, getting to her feet. "I haven't said hello to Hannah yet."

The box of Cherry Bakewells from Kate's package was sitting on the table in the hall. Nancy retrieved it and slipped eagerly into the kitchen.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Hannah!" she cried.

"There's my girl!" Hannah dropped her spoon and hurried over to wrap Nancy in a hug. "I was beginning to think you'd decided to stay at the Hardys'."

"Would I miss the last Thanksgiving before you leave?" Nancy couldn't stop her voice from wavering. She buried her face against Hannah's shoulder, ignoring the hard edges of Hannah's bird-shaped brooch pressing into her cheek. "Aunt Eloise caught me before I could get back here," she added, pleased to hear her voice come out more even this time.

"I'm not leaving you," Hannah said. It was meant as a rebuke, but Hannah's voice wobbled, too. "You're my little girl. Don't you think for a second that I could walk away from this family. I'll be right here, in this kitchen, cooking the turkey, for as many Thanksgivings as the good Lord sees fit to give me."

"I know, Hannah," Nancy whispered. For a moment, she felt overwhelmed. For all its trappings of timeless tradition, this was a very transitional holiday. Carson was getting married, Hannah was moving out, Nancy herself was moving out. She stood in the middle of the familiar kitchen, surrounded by familiar sights and smells, and somehow she felt as though she had lost her way home.

The feeling did not last long. Hannah broke the spell by releasing her and laughing softly. "My bird pin left an imprint on your poor face," she said, touching Nancy's cheek. "That takes me back. You used to get up from your naps all rosy-cheeked, with marks from where you'd been sleeping with your mother's locket."

"Speaking of Mom," Nancy said, and held her box of cookies out to the housekeeper. "I know you already found some of these, but here."

"What's this?" Hannah took a closer look, and her eyes lit up. "How wonderful! Nancy, you always come through."

"I have to confess, I didn't actually find them. George's friend Kate sent them to me and Joe to thank us for solving her case," Nancy said.

"It's a sign," Hannah said solemnly. "It's a sign, that's what it is. That dear mother of yours is smiling down at us extra hard this year."

"Hannah, no. I'd just convinced myself that I wasn't going to cry," Nancy protested, half-laughing and blinking back tears.

"No need for that," Hannah said kindly. She pulled open a drawer and extracted an apron, which she tossed to Nancy. "Here. A little work will set you to rights."

"A little work is your answer for everything," Nancy teased, but she pulled the voluminous old-fashioned apron over her dress anyway.

"That's a pretty bold dress," Hannah commented. "Did Bess help you pick it out? It has her name written all over it."

"Actually, I picked it out all by myself. Her taste must be rubbing off on me."

Hannah had returned to the stove. She lifted a few lids, checking on the pots' contents. "Did she and Tom get home safely?" she asked, peering through a cloud of steam. "I still can't believe you dragged them into your case, with poor Bess in her condition."

"Her condition?" Nancy echoed, momentarily distracted from the main point. "You're awfully Victorian today, Hannah."

"I blame the apron. It was my gran's, and she was very proper," Hannah said.

"That explains it. Where do you want me to start?"

"You can chop onion and celery for the stuffing." Hannah returned to her primary grievance. "But really, Nan. Expecting a pregnant woman to risk life and limb on one of your cases? That's going too far."

"She was perfectly safe!" Nancy protested. "And for the record, they volunteered. All they had to do was pose as buyers for the stolen paintings and record Allie's sales pitch as proof of her possessing and selling stolen property. You know how good Bess and Tom are at playing dumb. The odds were higher they'd get hurt crossing the street than talking to Allie."

Hannah sighed. "I suppose you're right. I just don't like the idea of any of my girls in trouble. Speaking of which, I had an interesting conversation with Laura Hardy yesterday."

"Did she tell you about the Shaws?" Nancy asked.

Hannah's frown was answer enough. "Outrageous," she said vehemently. "What a pair of bullies. I regret ever making a cake for people like that to enjoy."

"Why should the rest of us have suffered? We all thought it was delicious," Nancy said. "And Callie even ate an entire slice."

Hannah was somewhat placated by this news. "As long as that sweet girl liked it, I suppose I can't begrudge those ogres she calls parents," she said, opening the oven to baste the turkey.

"Strong words, Hannah! So much for your gran's apron's influence," Nancy said, laughing.

"Don't you get sassy with me, missy."

"Or what? You've already given me the worst job available." Nancy blinked her watering eyes and reached for another onion.

"You're not too old to be paddled," Hannah said, waving a wooden spoon at the younger woman.

"You wouldn't. Not on a holiday." Nancy slid her onion pieces to the end of the cutting board and moved the celery into position.

"Tell me more about your new house," she said suddenly.

"All right. Let's see. It has the prettiest little kitchen, just renovated," Hannah said, piling fresh-baked rolls into a basket. "A yard big enough to do some gardening but not so big it'll be a hassle to keep up with. Oh, there's a fireplace, and a breakfast nook with a window seat, and a garage for my car. And here's the most important part: there's a very nice little spare bedroom. I don't mean to pry, Nan, but if you were thinking of moving on now that your dad is getting married, you're welcome to stay with me for as long as you need."

"I really appreciate that," Nancy said simply. This was not the time to bring up her arrangement with Joe.

The two women worked quietly for a few minutes. With fewer people to feed and Hannah's knack for efficiency, the kitchen here was much less chaotic than the Hardys' kitchen had been.

"It's so nice to catch you between cases," Hannah remarked, finally. "It makes today feel even more special."

"How could today be special when you haven't even seen me yet?" Joe said mischievously, appearing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're so full of yourself you won't have any room for my good dinner," Hannah said. She crossed over to hug him anyway, the tenderness of her face contradicting her mocking words. "I was expecting you to show up sooner or later."

Joe nodded. "This is the best room in the house. It has all the food and the two prettiest girls in River Heights. And," he added, looking sheepish, "I heard rumors that you were watching the game in here."

Hannah pointed toward the counter. "It's streaming on my iPad. Be warned, though, it's been a disappointing game so far."

"Your team is losing?" Joe asked. He headed over to take a look at the screen, tugging Nancy's apron string as he passed to make her yelp.

"No, we're winning, but I'm not sure we should be. There were some bad calls early on in the game."

"That sucks. I had a few games like that in high school."

"And high school is definitely the same as pro football," Nancy grumbled, re-tying her apron.

"A game's a game," Joe said. His eyes were still glued to the screen. "Hannah, did you see this play the announcers keep talking about?"

"Give it a minute. They've been showing the slow-motion replay constantly," Hannah advised.

Nancy let the football talk fade to the background. Her attention had been captured by a more interesting development: Aunt Eloise, sneaking toward the back door.

"Where are you going with those cigarettes, young lady?" Nancy called.

"What cigarettes?" Eloise returned, trying her best to look innocent.

"Aunt Eloise, I'm a detective. You can't hide anything from me." Nancy reached into the hall and pulled Eloise into the kitchen, shaking her head sternly. "You told me you were quitting."

"Yes, and I regret ever mentioning it to you," Eloise said hollowly. "I've cut it down to one cigarette a day, you young tyrant."

"Just one? That shouldn't be hard to forego," Nancy said.

"It's only a small indulgence, Nancy. Every afternoon I step outside and I enjoy my one cigarette deeply and richly, and I return to work feeling civilized again. Preach at me all you want, darling, but I intend to cling to my little ritual." Chin high, Eloise sailed toward the exit. She paused gracefully in the doorway. "Forgive me. I never can remember who my fellow sinners are. Hannah, Joe, would either of you care to join me?"

Hannah shook her head briskly. "I never picked up the habit."

"It's been awhile for me. Thanks, though," Joe added. He had turned away from the football game. Neither Nancy nor Hannah missed the longing look he gave the food waiting on the counter nearby.

"You can't be that hungry already," Nancy said, remembering the generous amount she had seen him eat at his parents' house earlier.

"I skipped breakfast and worked out, remember? It takes a lot of fuel to keep this machine going."

"Didn't Frank order you not to refer to yourself as 'The Machine?' " Nancy demanded.

"Yeah, but he's just jealous that he didn't think of it first."

Hannah intervened. "Here, hon, this should hold you over," she said, handing him a pecan tartlet.

"He gets dessert before dinner?" Nancy protested.

"That's because I'm the favorite," Joe told her, popping the treat into his mouth.

"Children," Hannah said, with a warning lilt in her voice. "Behave yourselves."

The back door slammed, suddenly, and Eloise hurried back into the kitchen to stand near the hot stove and rub warmth back into her cold arms. "Who's misbehaving?" she asked, interested.

"Nobody!" Nancy said quickly. "I'm surprised to see you back so soon. Didn't you mention something about savoring the ritual?"

"That was before I realized how cold it is out there," Eloise said ruefully. "It's difficult to enjoy anything to the fullest while shivering hard enough to make your bones rattle."

"Eloise, here. This will warm you up," Hannah said, pressing a cup of coffee into Eloise's cold fingers.

"Merci," Eloise said. "Hannah, you are the soul of kindness."

"The sugar bowl is on the island," Nancy told her. "Pull up a stool. I'll get you a spoon."

"Thanks, Nance. You know me so well."

Eloise made even perching on a stool look graceful. She patted the seat beside hers before reaching for the sugar bowl.

"Come here and tell me your secret, Joe."

"I'm not one for divulging secrets," Joe said lightly, swinging himself onto the seat. "What's in it for me?"

"Judging by Nancy's expression, a nice, warm, earnest sense of moral superiority," Eloise said, softening the words with a wink in Nancy's direction.

"You want to know how I quit smoking," Joe realized.

"Bingo. Make it good, though. If one more person lectures me about willpower or the nicotine patch I'm going to go postal. And I think we'll have more than enough 'cold turkey' for the rest of the week."

Joe laughed. "All right, but you won't like this either. Do you remember my brother?"

"Frank," Eloise said, nodding.

"We're pretty competitive, and on top of that he has the white knight complex to beat all others. He wore me down with a mixture of athletic pressure and just plain nagging."

Eloise looked skeptical. "I don't buy it," she said frankly. "I know your type. I've taught a dozen of you over the years. The best way to make you dig in your heels is to apply direct pressure."

"Aunt Eloise!" Nancy said sharply.

"It's okay, Nan," Joe said. He shrugged. "Okay. Yeah, I'm stubborn. Frank did nag me, and I refused to listen. It took breaking up with the girl I was seeing at the time, and realizing I needed to get my life back on track, to make me quit. You have to really want it." He studied Eloise for a moment. "I'm not sure you really want it."

"Very insightful," Eloise said, with a nod of satisfaction. "It's rare to find someone as honest as he is pretty. I appreciate that."

Behind them, Hannah muffled a laugh. "Pretty?" she echoed.

"You don't think I'm pretty?" Joe asked, pretending to be hurt.

"I think you're a little too masculine for that word, that's all. The tattoos and the scars don't make me think 'pretty,' " Hannah explained.

"Tattoos?" Eloise's eyebrows headed north again. "Fascinating. Are they in delicate locations?"

"No, they're mostly on my arms," Joe said.

Nancy did not like the direction the conversation had taken. Her aunt was taking an interest in Joe, but it seemed like an intellectual interest rather than a personal one- as though he were a new species of insect, and she were a scientist.

"Aunt Eloise," she said again; but her aunt waved her warning away.

"I'd love to see them," she told Joe. And because Joe was a good-natured young man, he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to show her the engine schematic and the compass rose and the Beowulf quotation. The latter actually disrupted Eloise's impassive examination.

"Muscles like that and a working knowledge of literature? Nancy, darling, did you have him made to order?"

Nancy blushed.

"As gratifying as all of this is, I guess I'd better get back to socializing," Joe said, buttoning his shirt. "Unless you need a hand with anything, Hannah?"

"No, but thanks for offering," Hannah said kindly. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. You can tell Carson that we're running according to schedule."

"According to schedule," he echoed. "Got it."

Nancy's cheeks were still burning as she followed him out into the hallway. She touched his shoulder to stop him and he turned, the inquisitive expression on his face melting into pleasure when he saw that it was her. Without a word he pulled her close, his hands tracing down from her shoulders to her hips and pulling her body snug against his as they kissed.

"What's up?" he murmured when they finally broke apart.

Nancy stared blankly at him for a moment. "I have no idea."

Joe kissed her again, lightly. "How about now?"

"If I say no, will you keep kissing me?"

"If that's what it takes, I'm willing to do my part," Joe said, straight-faced.

Aunt Eloise's laugh trickled out from the kitchen, and Nancy's brain clicked back into gear. "I wanted to apologize for Eloise," she said softly.

"Apologize?"

"She went too far," Nancy said. "She gets wrapped up in her own thoughts, sometimes, and forgets that other people are, in fact, people."

"Nan, it's all right. I understand. And I've always liked your aunt. She's unapologetically unique." He looked her in the eyes, and she remembered what he had said a few days ago: I don't lie to Frank, and I don't lie to you. "Believe me?"

"I do." Nancy sighed. "How were things going in the living room?"

"If this were my first time meeting everyone, I might be a little put off," he admitted. "But this is fine. It's no snowball fight, but I'm having a good time."

She must have looked skeptical, because he shook his head. "I mean it. Dalton's a cool guy, and Camille is funny once she gets loosened up." He reached for her again, settling his hands lightly at her waist, and looked into her eyes. "Nan, I want to be here. I like your family, and I love you. So relax."

Back in the kitchen, Eloise was chatting away to Hannah and stirring a pot unmindfully.

"Don't move," Nancy said. "I need to get a picture of this."

"Fiddlesticks, darling. You've seen me cook before."

Nancy merely arched an eyebrow at her.

"All right, I don't cook!" Eloise admitted. "At my age I've learned that you've got to play to your strengths. My strength happens to be keeping other people entertained while they do the cooking."

"That's what the football game is for," Hannah said, but she was smiling. Eloise's charm was hard to resist.

"So, Nancy," Eloise went on. "Refresh my memory. The Hardys are a Bayport family, aren't they? The father was on the police force, and the mother is a...a nurse, isn't she?"

"A teacher," Nancy corrected. "Upper elementary."

"I knew it was something like that," Eloise said vaguely. Nancy refrained from pointing out that Eloise herself was a teacher. She knew that Eloise considered her prestigious private school to be worlds removed from any public school system, even one as well-run as the Bayport district.

"What does his brother do now?" Eloise continued, surrendering her pot and spoon to Hannah without a backward glance.

"Frank is a police officer."

"So neither of them went to college?"

She might as well come right out and ask how much they earn in a year, Nancy thought, her irritation re-surfacing. She was familiar with the slight tendency toward snobbishness which both Eloise and Carson retained, but she had never liked to see it surface.

"I think it would be more appropriate for you to ask Joe these questions directly," she said.

Eloise blinked. "I'm sorry, Nancy. Is something bothering you?"

"I'm not comfortable with the way you're analyzing him," Nancy said, after a moment's hesitation. "He's a person, Aunt Eloise, a really smart and kind and good person, not a- a microscope slide, or a pretty toy. He's my friend and my partner, and I wish you'd see all of that instead of looking down at him."

Eloise was silent for a few minutes, absorbing her niece's words. One of her best qualities was her willingness to evaluate her own behavior and to adjust her way of thinking if necessary; and that, to Nancy's relief, was exactly what she did now.

"I know I've spent too much time around my students' parents when I start seeing the world in terms of white collar and blue collar," she said slowly. "You're right. I got caught up in studying him instead of getting to know him. I'm sorry, darling. I'll do better."

"Thank you," Nancy murmured.

"I hope I haven't ruined your evening," Eloise said.

"What's a family gathering without a few ruffled feathers?" Nancy replied, feeling her anger drain away.

"There's going to be a few more sets of ruffled feathers if we sit around clucking all day instead of getting the food on the table," Hannah said brusquely. "Nan, if you'll start carrying in the side dishes, I'll bring in the turkey. Eloise, will herd everyone else into the dining room?"

"With pleasure," Eloise said, "provided I can nip at their heels if they dawdle."

"Just don't frighten them into stampeding!" Nancy called after her.

Hannah had set a beautiful table in the formal dining room. Nancy set her dishes reverently on the spotless white tablecloth and turned to the housekeeper, who had just entered the room with the turkey on its platter.

"Hannah, this is lovely. Will you teach me how you do it?" she said, lightly touching the arrangement of gold- and rust-colored chrysanthemums which crowned the table.

"I'll give you a hint," Hannah said, smiling with some private amusement. "It involved more dialing the phone than trimming stems."

"You cheated!" Nancy was grinning now, too.

"And I'm not the least bit ashamed of myself, either."

"But you usually put the arrangements together yourself, don't you? Or have I spent my life believing a lie?"

"So dramatic!" Hannah exclaimed. They had returned the kitchen, now, and Hannah began loading a tray with more side dishes to take in. "Yes, I usually make them myself, and yes, I would love to teach you. Hand me your apron, sweetie, and go on out so Joe can bring you in to dinner. I can finish up in here."

"I always help," Nancy objected.

Hannah's eyes were serious. "Humor me, Nan. It's our last Thanksgiving before the world turns topsy-turvy. I'd like to do it right."

Slowly, Nancy tugged the apron over her head and folded it. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, but so were Hannah's. Nancy blinked hard, pressed an impulsive kiss to Hannah's cheek, and darted from the room.

Though the group which sat down to dinner a few minutes later was smaller and more intimate than that which had gathered at the Hardys' home earlier- though candlelight replaced daylight, and the conversation was pitched lower and ranged over more intellectual topics- still the conviviality was the same, and the joy was no less real. Carson was a gracious host, Camille's usually abrupt manner was softened by wine and the tranquillity of the holiday, and Hannah's kind and sensible manner made everyone feel at ease. Eloise, eager to make up for her earlier misstep, was at her most engaging and amusing. Nancy looked around the room, taking in the grace and elegance of the scene with fresh eyes; and for the first time she was able to see both the stiffness of the occasion and the genuine good-hearted enjoyment of life behind the formality. When she met Joe's eyes across the table, he winked, she smiled back, and the last vestiges of her worry fell away.

Thanksgiving at the Drews' house had ended the same way as long as Nancy could remember: with hot cider and soft blankets and pajamas, her whole family settling in together to watch her favorite holiday movie. And this year was no exception.

"We've never had this many people!" Nancy commented, searching for a place to sit. Dalton had thanked them and taken his leave, but there still remained enough people to fill up the available seats. Carson was in the middle of the sofa, his arms around Camille on one side and Eloise on the other. Hannah reclined in her usual chair, her feet up, nursing a glass of cider and a second slice of pie.

"Over here, Nan," Joe called, patting the floor next to him. Nancy made her way across the room and handed him her cider before sinking down, spreading her blanket over their legs. The action reminded her of the previous evening; and it must have evoked memories for him, too, because when she looked over she found an answering twinkle in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I forgot to tell you to bring pajamas," she said.

"Joe, are you sure I can't loan you a t-shirt and sweatpants?" Carson asked, leaning over Nancy's shoulder.

"Thank you, but I'm fine," Joe said. He had shed his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt while Nancy was getting changed. "Why are we watching Rudolph?" he asked, changing the subject.

"What's wrong with the movie?" Nancy asked, snuggling up close so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She had tried leaning back against the couch, but had only managed to catch Eloise's bony knees in her back.

"It's a Christmas movie," Joe pointed out.

"Tread lightly, young man. Tradition is sacred," Carson said benevolently. "We've watched this movie on Thanksgiving evening for- how many years, now, Hannah?"

"At least twenty," Hannah said, after a moment's consideration.

"I loved this movie when I was very little," Nancy explained to Joe as her father selected "play" on the DVD. "I watched it all the time until Dad and Hannah got fed up and negotiated terms. They said I could only watch it during the holiday season."

"So naturally, little Miss Too-Clever-For-Her-Own-Good decided that since Thanksgiving is the start of the holiday season, she could start watching it then. And it's been a tradition ever since," Hannah concluded.

"She's always been stubborn," Eloise told Joe.

"I wouldn't have her any other way," Joe said affectionately, kissing the top of her head.

Behind her, Nancy felt Eloise stroke her hair. The older woman leaned over to speak quietly to the couple on the floor. "She's always been a good judge of character, too," Eloise murmured. Nancy felt a surge of gratitude. She knew what Eloise was doing: making amends for her earlier snap judgment.

Eloise continued. "I'm glad you could be hear with us tonight, Joe. I look forward to getting to know you better."

"Likewise," Joe said, craning his neck to look back at her.

Eloise patted his shoulder. "I'll let you two enjoy the movie."

As the familiar strains of the opening credits filled the room, Nancy cuddled closer to Joe, sipped her cider, and lost herself in the happy glow of nostalgia, family, and contentment.