A/N: This was supposed to be just a one chapter kind of story, but had to split it into three because I haven't been able to finish it with all the "family time" I'm currently experiencing. I'm definitely sympathizing with Jane right about now. A huge thank you to triskle, Oh-My-Sarah-Jane , texas, Lucy, and thkgoutloud for reviewing the first chapter. You all are FANTASTIC and I greatly appreciate you making my first (and probably only) Rizzles fic a success!
I Hope the Pilgrims Had it Easier
Part Two
"She painted them pink, Maura. Pink! And do you know why dear, sweet Gertrude painted my nails the color of puked up cupcake frosting at a ten-year olds birthday party? She did it to get back at you for that sushi rice remark you just had to make." Jane hit the wheel of her car a little harder than she had to. The motorists on either side of the vehicle would think she was just suffering from a classic case of road rage most Bostonians were quite familiar with.
"That's absurd. Why would she take her revenge out on you?" Maura asked seriously, trying to decipher the logic.
"Because she knew I'd bitch to you about it until I get my hands on a bottle of acetone. Who is the real victim in all of this?" Jane responded, now clutching the leather wheel tighter than necessary.
"The nail polish manufacturer?" Maura couldn't hold her smirk back any longer.
"No. It's me, Maura. I'm the victim." Jane flung a hand into the air, showing off the rosy hue enamel in all its glory. "I'm the damn middle man." Jane looked over at the passenger seat and saw her best friend's mirth plain on her face. "Well, you seem to be in a good mood all of a sudden. And by 'good mood' I mean forming coherent sentences and not having every other word be 'mother'."
"Viviane suggested a few chefs that have the capability to cater on short notice so I am feeling quite a bit more optimistic about Thanksgiving dinner with Mother. One of them specializes in duck a l'orange that she insists is just out of this world!" Maura clapped her hands in delight.
"Oh 'duck a l'orange', my favorite!" Jane sing-songed.
"I know, right? It is such a chore finding a cook who can adequately balance the challenge of roasting a whole duck and keeping the breasts juicy—you were being facetious, weren't you?" Maura asked, already knowing the answer. This was Jane; she was used to the sarcasm, even learned to love it. Shrugging, she changed the subject back. "Oh, and I think your nails are very adorable." Maura took the closest hand off the steering wheel for closer inspection, secure in knowing that Jane could drive safely with just the one. "You should keep it for awhile."
"Adorable. You think my nail polish is adorable." Jane didn't say her response as questions, rather as a restatement of a fact she was trying to digest. The dark-haired detective sighed and briefly took her eyes off the road (they were at a red light anyway) to better inspect the coat of veneer she'd been so recently subjected to. It wasn't that bad, she guessed. Maybe she'd consider keeping it on for a few days, just through the holiday. But if Korsak or Frost even started to poke fun at Jane's "girl-ification", she'd whip the cotton balls and remover out so fast it'd make their heads spin.
"All set! Jean-Luc will be providing the proteins and sides for Thanksgiving to the standards expected by my Mother!" Maura set her phone on the kitchen counter and made a show of sighing in relief. She turned to the cabinet with the shelves labeled 'wine glasses' and expertly placed two on the island. Maura pulled a bottle of Shiraz from her secret stash, quickly uncorked it and poured out two generous helpings.
"Oh no," Jane started.
"I know, I should let it breath a little," Maura waved her hand in a circular motion, obviously trying to imitate the act of wine breathing. "But I need it now."
"No, that's not what I meant. It was something more like 'oh no, I will not drink wine even in celebration of you booking some French foodie who once cooked for the…King of Bhutan or whatever.'" Jane pointed to the filled glasses and shook her head.
"This wine isn't for you. It's for me and your mom." Maura smiled at the look Jane gave her. It was similar to the look she got when the Red Sox were out of the pennant race. "You can grab a beer if you like," Maura winked and walked the two glasses to the coffee table in the living room. As if on cue, Angela Rizzoli walked in. Jane opened the refrigerator a little harder than she needed to and rattled her "stash" of beer she kept in Maura's fridge before pulling one out.
"Jane! Seriously! Do you have the hands of a truck driver? You're disturbing our zen time." Angela made her way to the couch, swiftly taking her glass of wine and settling in next to Maura.
"Zen time? Are you kidding me right now?" As Jane mumbled the question into her now-open bottle, Maura turned around and smiled at her over the couch's top edge. The brunette detective saw her friend's shoulders shrug in a semblance of sympathy. "I'm just going to go in the guest room and watch some TV. I definitely don't want to interrupt zen time." Jane ignored Maura's chuckle as she made her way into the next room.
Preparations for Thanksgiving started early Thursday morning at Maura's home. Angela Rizzoli had awoken at the crack of dawn to begin work on the traditional Thanksgiving feast she'd managed to cook for the past forty years at least (yes, she'd started in the kitchen at the age of two). As she finished placing the massive turkey into the awaiting oven and closed the stove door, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Instantly on the alert, Angela grabbed the knife she'd recently used to cut celery with and brandished it as menacingly as she could, turning to meet the kitchen intruder…
"Janey honey, what are you doing here?" Angela recognized her daughter even though Jane's face was half-obscured by unruly bed hair. She put down the knife.
"I decided to come and crash after our late shift last night. I thought I'd need all my energy saved up to deal with today and didn't want to waste any on the commute from my apartment to here." Jane tried to wipe the sleep from her face, being so rudely awakened by the clanging of pans. "By the way, you're welcome for taking another killer off our streets."
"Well, actually it was the forensic evidence that caused the DA to press charges in the end." Maura entered the living area from her bedroom, still clad in a body-hugging night slip. "You're still welcome."
"Actually we would have never found the douchebag if it hadn't been for my—"
"Girls, please." The older woman held up a hand but it didn't stop Jane from sticking out her tongue at her best friend. "Jane! Stop. Just be glad that you two are finished with your work and can enjoy a relaxing day helping me prepare the meal."
"Oh, it's alright, Angela. I told you that Jean-Luc's sous chefs will be dropping off the food at around one. Mother is not expected until two." Maura nodded and smiled as she reaffirmed the plans. How did she always look so put together?
"I know, honey. I just thought I'd make the usual Thanksgiving dishes so people will have a choice." Jane knew what her mother really meant. There was no way her boys would be satisfied eating duck this special Thursday. "You can never have too many leftovers."
"Well, I always enjoy learning something new!" Maura exclaimed enthusiastically. Jane had a hard time telling if her best friend was serious or just trying to be nice to her mom.
"Good for you. I'll just be right over here on the couch watching the Macy's parade. Yell if you need me." Jane plopped on the sofa and turned on the Thanksgiving tradition she remembered watching growing up. "And please don't need me," she added for good measure wondering what would be an appropriate time to start in on the beer. Jane texted Frankie to get up and hurry over; drinking would be way more acceptable if her youngest brother was doing it too.
It was a little after eleven a.m. and Frankie and Jane were camped out on Maura's couch flipping the channel between infomercials and random marathons of "Law & Order"…finally feeling it would be okay to crack open a couple of brews. It was the holiday after all; there is no such thing as drinking too early during the holidays, right? Especially when you are being subjected to mandatory family time…both lifted their beer bottles in unison and took a swig as their mom answered the door. They turned to see who it was.
"Hey bro, glad to see dog walkers get Thanksgiving off. Is it, a paid holiday? Do you—what is it?—accrue time or something?" Frankie laughed and Jane clinked her bottle against her younger brother's in toast to a good joke.
"Frankie, leave your brother alone!" Angela yelled from the kitchen area, wiping some flour or gravy onto her apron.
"Seeing to the proper care of canines is a very noble profession. Dogs are naturally good judges of character and a trustworthy dog walker is always a prized commodity." Maura ignored the snickers coming from the couch before continuing, "In the Boston metro area, licensed dog walkers must be trained in animal first-aid by law. Definitely a time investment." She smiled at Tommy who naturally returned the expression, their chemistry going not unnoticed by a certain detective. "You know, Tommy, I read the most interesting article on dog running. It is becoming the new 'it' service. You should suggest to your company that they should expand into the running business, they could charge a premium!"
Jane hoped her mother would then yell, "Maura, stop defending Tommy!"…but it never came. Instead Mother Rizzoli did nothing to cover the beam of pride she was directing at her recently-paroled son who was so pleasantly lost in conversation with the successful (and so pretty!) Dr. Isles.
"This is going to be such a long day…" Jane mumbled as she took another swig.
"I'm just saying, I put money on the team with the better record. It just so happened to be the Niners. Plus, I'm thinking ahead to playoff implications." Frankie shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his beer before setting it back on the table and returning his attention to the pre-game football commentary. He knew full-well that the sound of the television sports analyst would soon be drowned out by his sister's condescending voice.
"Frankie! I don't care who has the better record! If you are going to bet on a game that does not have the New England Patriots in the mix, you go with the team that is closest to home. Baltimore is a lot closer than San Francisco. I can't believe you right now." Luckily, the young BPD cop was saved by the bell. The door bell.
"Jane, honey. Get the door. We have our hands full with the green bean casserole!" Angela's commanding voice was louder than it had to be given that her children were only ten feet away at the most. Knowing that it would be a losing battle, Jane got up to do as her mother requested but mumbled a half-hearted "why do I have to be the one to get up? Is it because I'm the girl?" under her breath. Opening the door nearly caused her to lose it…
"Hey pumpkin, Happy Thanksgiving!" Frankie Sr. had a huge smile plastered on his face and his arm around a woman at least ten years too young for him. Good God, could this day get any worse?
Jane closed the door slowly; taking the moments it took for it to click shut to plot her course of action. There was only one way of dealing with this situation. "Frankie! Get your ass over here!" Her brother had no idea why Jane was using her cop voice with him, but he knew it wasn't going to be pleasant and time was of the essence. He quickly decided it would be in his best interest to see what was up. Jane still had her hand on the knob and a look on her face that read somewhere between disappointment and disgust.
"What is it, sis? Need help sending away missionaries or something?"
"No. It's Dad. Here. Right now." Jane's sentence was cut into short utterances as she told Frankie what was happening through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, I invited him." Jane's glare increased tenfold as he added, "What? The man's gotta eat, right? Why not with his family on Thanksgiving?" Frankie tried to appeal to his sister's sense of family. It didn't seem to be working too well.
She raised her eyebrow and lowered her voice to her gravelliest register. "He brought a woman."
"Oh shit, Janey, Ma's gonna blow a gasket. What the hell are we going to do?" The younger Rizzoli raked his fingers through his hair.
"Oh no, it's not what we are going to do…it's what you are going to do, little brother. You started this mess, you're going to finish it." Jane patted him on the back and walked back towards the kitchen, suddenly in need of a refill. She heard Frankie open the door and greet his father, telling him and his "friend" to make themselves at home while he took care of business. She heard him take a deep breath and walk towards where Maura and her mother were still in the depths of cooking. Jane popped the top on her newest bottle of beer and leaned against the fridge, waiting for the fireworks to begin.
"Dina? Dina Pantilukos from down the street? That Greek troia will be eating my Thanksgiving dinner sitting next to my ex-husband?" Angela clutched a hand to her heart in a play at dramatics causing Maura to jump into action and find the pulse point of Mrs. Rizzoli's wrist with her able fingers. "I will pull that fake weave off the back of her head and send it first-class to that loud mouth mother of hers before I allow her to break bread with my family."
"Ma, I know Jane doesn't want to ruin this precious holiday by having to investigate a brutal homicide taking place here in Maura's home." Frankie was trying to diffuse the situation any which way he could.
Maura was standing next to Jane and added to her friend, "Well, if you have to choose where to investigate a murder, I think your own home ranks up there in pretty convenient. Plus, I wouldn't have to worry too much about messing up my lovely manicure." She sounded serious too.
Jane was getting really good at the mumbling and all that could be discerned was something about "actually a murder wouldn't be such an unpleasant thing right about now." After receiving quite the glare from her mother, Jane pointed at the TV and said a little too loudly, "Oh, look! Kick-off between the Lions and the Packers! I really don't want to miss this…" Jane walked sheepishly towards the living room, two more beers now in hand. She passed off one of the brews to Tommy and her dad in turn, making sure to shake her head in disbelief at Frankie Sr.'s recent course of action. Luckily, she didn't have to play hostess to her father's guest—a girl she distinctly remembered graduating only a few years ahead of herself—Maura had brought over a glass of wine and set it in front of Dina.
~TBC~
I hope to have the last chapter up before the next major holiday…it's bad enough that this is a Thanksgiving fic and I'm updating on New Year's…*shakes head at self*