Chapter 4

Peggy called it "dinner" even though they were eating at three in the afternoon. The menu varied little from year to year. Every year Peggy managed to overcook the store-cooked ham, the vegetables, and whatever else she tried to make. Occasionally one of the dishes turned out fine, usually the ones she'd had a lot of practice with, like green beans with almonds, or peas and carrots.

Gillian had appeared for dinner with a bland smile that gave no indication of how the afternoon's conversation had affected her, while Rita's uncle kept his mouth tightly shut and his eyes swiveled pointedly away from everyone else at the table, and Rita's aunt was smiling and swaying as she brought the dishes in from the kitchen. Rita sat next to Brian and Alice moved her place to sit on Rita's other side, but it was Brian's tail that Rita moved his to touch, not Alice's.

Her aunt said grace, only missing one of the words, and they started eating. This dinner started out traditionally, with Gillian saying, "Great ham, Mom," a comment which had acquired more and more sarcasm over the years. The ham was the first thing Rita tried, too. She grinned at Gillian as she made her comment. Same as ever.

The sweet potato, though, was really good. Rita heard other startled murmurs around the table. Alice, watching her reaction, smiled smugly. "Like that?"

"Yeah," she said, "it's really good."

"Try the mocho," Brian said, handing Rita a plate of the steaming rolls.

Rita took one and bit into it, onion and garlic flavors building on the fresh bready taste. "Wow!"

"Not as good as my mom made," Brian said, "but pretty good."

"The stuffing's really good," Gillian said, sounding surprised.

Rita's aunt was ecstatic. "Oh, thank you, thank you. My little helpers made it so easy."

"It was really fun," Brian said, beaming at her and then at Rita. "I helped with the glaze on the ham."

"There's glaze?" Gillian said.

"No, not glaze." Brian looked at Rita's aunt. "Gravy?"

"Sauce," Alice said.

"Oh, right." Brian nodded happily and pushed a bowl toward Gillian. "Sauce. Try it."

"Looks like you already have," Rita murmured.

Brian grinned bashfully at her and whispered, "Just a little."

"I bet," Rita snorted. "Alone in the kitchen with my aunt." She'd only ever seen Brian drunk once and it had been pretty funny. It had also led to some great oral sex and then a great humping the next morning. Just remembering that night and morning got her aroused. "More wine?"

Her uncle wasn't drinking wine, but just about everyone else at the table had a glass in front of them. The unexpectedly appetizing food called for more wine, and before the end of the meal, Rita's aunt had opened a second bottle.

Apart from the occasional snipe between Alice and Brian, the meal went much better than Rita had anticipated. She even pitched in on the family cleanup, which extended from clearing the table and washing the dishes to making the final preparations for the party. She was just coming back from the dining room as the caterers arrived and she heard her uncle mutter, "If I'd known she could cook like that, I wouldn't have wasted the money."

Rita snickered and her uncle turned and grabbed her suddenly by the arm. "Come here. Gillian, you too." Her cousin looked up from cleaning the table in the dining room and followed them into the rec room.

Her uncle shut the door. "Listen, you two. I want you on your best behavior tonight. I only ask this once a year. Rita, when someone asks you what you're studying, answer politely and don't rule out law school." "Someone" in this case was Jack Anderson, Rita knew. "And, Gillian . . ." He sighed. "Don't mention your condition. Rita, don't mention yours either."

"What 'condition'?" Rita said.

"You know what I mean. Him." He gestured out the door.

"Oh, Dad," Gillian said, "Get into the twenty-first century."

"No kidding," Rita said.

"We can discuss terminology later." Her uncle's eyes were twitching. "I just want this party to be uneventful. You hear me, young lady?"

"Uh-huh," Rita said, but Gillian could already see the wheels turning in her head. Her uncle could too.

"I mean it." He lowered his voice. "If you want any help raising that baby, I want you to behave yourself like a proper member of this family. Have I made myself understood?"

"Yes," Rita said sullenly.

"All right. Then come help clean up." He opened the rec room door and gestured to the living room.

"I'm cleaning in here," Gillian said.

"I'll help you finish." Rita picked up a TV Guide from the couch and walked over to the cabinet with it. Her uncle watched for a moment, then walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Rita said, "Holy crap, Gillian."

"He does not know me," Gillian growled.

"I can't believe he would use your baby as leverage to get you to behave at a party!"

"Oh, I can believe it. You didn't hear about little Maria Anderson." She said the name mockingly.

"Uh-oh." Rita vaguely remembered a young girl in a prim dress looking on disapprovingly as she and her cousin threw food at each other during a company picnic.

"Getting married in May to a doctor, a rich doctor."

"That must have driven Uncle Hal crazy."

"He only mentioned it once and then never said another word. I'm sure it was eating him up." Gillian stabbed savagely at a dust bunny. "That's why I broke up with Jake. Dad had him so down on himself that it was pathetic, because he wasn't going to med school or anything. I had to let him go. So Dad got what he wanted."

"So you picked up Mark to confuse him? Unknown jock and a different species."

Gillian grinned at Rita. "He raised the stakes, I raised him right back."

Rita leaned against the doorframe. "He never used to be this bad. Before, I mean."

"We weren't adults before. He's still trying to control us."

Rita shook her head. "I think you grew up faster than I did."

"Us females do that," Gillian said, polishing the coffee table. She appeared to have forgiven Rita for sleeping with Mark, at least temporarily now that they were faced with a common enemy.

"We just have to get through this party and then sleep through church and it'll all be over."

"You're such an optimist," Gillian said. "I can handle it in here. Go finish up out there. God forbid Mrs. Anderson finds dust behind the painting."

"All right." Rita grinned and paused at the doorway. "You going to be okay?"

The grin Gillian gave Rita back, had her uncle seen it, would have gotten her locked in her room until New Year's Day. "Oh, I'll be fine," she said. "I'll be fine."

Rita passed the dining room on her way back to the living room and saw that her uncle was still in the room with Alice and Brian, who were at least not at each other's throats. They were watching each other coolly while Alice was talking about some concert she and Rita had gone to. Rita only caught the words,

"They played 'Eternal Flame' and it was so romantic," before she was around the corner and out of earshot. She grinned and bet herself that Alice wouldn't tell Brian about having thrown up on the way home.

The doorbell rang ten minutes later and because she was tired of wiping the window ledges, Rita ran to get it. She opened the door and saw the tall, athletic man standing on the doorstep in an awkward-looking light blue suit that he filled out rather well.

Mark met her eyes and smiled, but it was a polite smile of recognition more than anything else. "Oh, hey," he said. "Party's not started yet, I hope."

"Oh, uh, no," Rita said. The previous night's memory had slammed back to her, full force, and she was fighting an arousal again before she knew it. "Come on in. Living room's almost clean."

Her uncle looked distinctly relieved to see the man. "Hi, Mark, come on in. We've got wine in the dining room."

"Thanks," Mark said. He walked in without another look at Rita.

"Close the door," Rita's uncle snapped, "and go get changed. Guests will be showing up in twenty minutes." He headed for the rec room, calling "Gillian, time to get changed!"

Rita closed the door and walked slowly toward the stairs, feeling annoyed at Mark. Did he not remember last night? It would've been nice to have some acknowledgement, like a wink or something to show that they'd shared a secret, even if it didn't mean anything. He'd probably either blocked it out or he didn't remember it at all. Rita shrugged and went upstairs to change.

When she came down, her aunt had turned on all the lights and put up even more decorations, though Rita wouldn't have thought it possible. She made the quick tour of her favorite decorations: the wreath on the door with pine cones that still held an improbable scent after thirteen years and reminded her of pine forests, the simple mobile of Christmas stars, calm and elegant amidst the shouting clamor of the other décor, and finally the old cloth reindeer she'd made in second grade.

Then there were her least favorites. Narrowing that list down was hard. The Santa Clause with a stain that looked like blood on his mouth and a cracked ear and sinisterly narrowed eyes that made him look like a gangster? The dancing elves who shrieked "Jingle Bell Rock" whenever anyone came too close to them? In the end, she couldn't top the ornament that held a miniature of a 1950s painting in which Santa Clause had been surprised by two sleepy cubs in what looked like the act of molesting one of his reindeer (who seemed, appropriately, half-terrified and half-ecstatic). Staring at it, she wondered if her childhood had been affected by this ornament at all. Certainly she couldn't remember a time when they hadn't had it. Probably one of Grandpa's or something, she thought. Creepy old fox.

The rec room door was closed and when she approached it, she heard Mark and Gillian's voices, sharp with the edges of an argument. Sure what it was about, she slunk away and sat in the dining room with Alice and Brian, who by now were talking about books they'd read. At least they weren't fighting anymore. Rita found that both relaxing and a little disappointing, but when Brian put a paw over hers, Alice didn't even react and she supposed that was all for the best. She joined in the conversation and actually enjoyed herself up to the point where the first guests arrived and her uncle dragged her out to be presented to them.