Shelter from the Storm

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a/n:This story may not make much sense unless you've read my other stories, but maybe you'll enjoy it anyway?

Arkady Petrovich, aka Monster - old friend of Ranger's, now Zoe's bodyguard.

Dave: "Dracula guy" young Romanian hitman, old friend of Ranger's, now a Rangeman employee. [Jane's Dilemma]

You can read the details of Mercenary Ranger's family in Take a Chance...

Zoe is 5.

Chapter Seventeen ~ Happy Thanksgiving. Enjoy Your Turkey.

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Stephanie

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''That man gives me the shivers, Stephanie." My mom watched her granddaughter from the kitchen window.

The man referred to was Zoë's ex-hitman bodyguard, Arkady Petrovich. This November afternoon we had stopped by my parents' house to say hello after taking Zoë to a playdate. Zoë and I have tried hard to be normal but the playdate was deadly dull. When we arrived at the orange and brown Plum house in the Burg Zoë gave everyone a big hug and ran outside to use up some of her pent up energy. She isn't a kid who enjoys sitting still playing Barbies all afternoon. She was of course accompanied out the backdoor by her little dog Killer and the aforementioned bodyguard.

It's not real easy making new friends when the bodyguards are around scaring the crap out of everyone, but we tgave it our best shot. So to speak.

I sat down at the kitchen table with my grandma. I told my mom, ''He's a good guy." Okay, I lied to my mom. "And he loves Zoë." More importantly Petrovich, aka Monster, both loved and feared Ranger.

Grandma piped up, "He's pretty hot for an old guy. Wonder if he has a date for New Years Eve?'

Monster isn't young but I'm gonna guess he's maybe twenty-five years younger than grandma.

My mom poured us coffee, set out a cake. She said, "Well, he frightens me."

"Don't be a wussy, Helen." said grandma. "Probably he's harmless, right, Stephanie?"

"Um..."

"Although I myself am partial to that new young one, the Count Dracula guy with the loooong black hair. Just like Ranger used to have. Now he's a real hottie."

Yes he is but "Dave" categorically refused to go on playdates, told Ranger Just shoot me now, boss, please—so Monster it is.

I shrugged, changed the subject, ''What are you guys doing?''

The table was covered with color printed newspaper supplements, clipped coupons, scissors. A notepad, a pen, and a list.

Mom said, "We're starting to plan our Thanksgiving shopping."

"Double coupons!" added Grandma.

"Looks like a lot of work, mom."

''Yes, Stephanie, it's a lot of work! And frankly I'm getting tired of it. I've been doing all the holidays every year since before Valerie was born."

"Heck, I helped!" protested grandma.

''Yes, mother, you did. But it's a lot of work. And a lot of years..."

Grandma agreed. "Almost sixty for me, Helen, that's a lot of turkey."

"I thought you enjoyed it?" I said.

''Well, I'm tired, Stephanie. It's just one more big chore, with so much baggage. Heaven forbid I forget the yams or the fried onions for the green beans! This one wants cranberry sauce, that one wants cole slaw. It's a nightmare."

Grandma nodded. ''It's a high pressure holiday for a housewife. You gotta be on top of it, bring your A game! All your ducks and turkeys organized, lined up in a row. Gotta be perfect."

Hmmm..."Valerie?" I suggested weakly.

"Oh please. In her tiny space? And all those kids? We'd be lucky to get a pizza delivered."

I started to say, "I didn't know you felt this way..." but I was interrupted by the sudden reappearance of the backyard contingent. The door banged open and Zoë stormed in on the heels of her doggy.

''Grandma! Killer is thirsty! Killer wants...a cherry Coke? He is tired of Kool-Aid."

"Say please, Zoë," I mumbled.

"Please. Um, please, Gramma Helen?"

Mom looked puzzled, ''Cherry coke? Kool-Aid? I never..."

Grandma's face was determinedly blank and innocent.

The door opened again and Monster stepped in. "Ladies." He sniffed the warm air. "What is that smell?"

Zoë grabbed his hand and told him, "I think she's making brownies.''

''Oh, the brownies?" He looked at the bottom of his shoes. "Is that what I smell? I thought I tracked something in?"

Mom's face got red. "Excuse me?"

''Ah no, please excuse me. My sniffer..."

''Your nose, Monster," Zoë interjected.

She supplied the word in Russian and he nodded, "Yes, yes, my nose. It got damaged in the gulag, I do not smell so good anymore."

My mom and grandma looked stricken. Poor Monster!

Zoë sniffed his sleeve. ''You smell okay to me. Like bananas, yum! I like the smell of gun oil, smells like..." Her eyes got wide and she shut up.

Hmmm, spending time down at the gun range again? I thought.

Mom took the brownies out. "When they cool off a bit maybe you'd like to try one? And you, too, Zoë?"

''With cherry cola?''

''No, dear. With milk."

''But, grandma...''

Monster nudged her over to the sink. "Wash your hands, little one."

''I can't reach."

He boosted her up, turned on the water. Behind his back my mom and grandma exchanged raised eyebrows.

"And we need to give Killer a drink, remember?" said Zoë.

''Yes but he must have water. Your grandmothers do not serve Band-Aid.''

''What?"

He set her down, handed her a dish towel to dry her hands.

I stood up and got out Killer's visitor bowl. ''You mean Kool-Aid, Arkady."

''Hmmm. My mind is shambles these days.''

''Maybe you need a drink, Monster? Grandma Helen keeps her drink in that cupboard.'' Zoë pointed.

Mom's face got red again.

"No. I am on duty.''

"Say, Mr. Monster," said Grandma. "Any plans for New Years Eve? You won't be on duty then, will you?"

"Ah, I am not su.."

"Because I don't have date yet! I'm available and I'm a real catch!"

Monster was stoically polite. "I am sure my boss will have work for me, madam.''

"Too bad. So, do you think that young Dracula guy would be interested...?"

I tuned them out, lost in thought. We all ate brownies in relative silence. Yes I know Zoë would spoil her appetite for dinner, but c'mon. My mom's brownies straight from the oven? Or grilled chicken and steamed broccoli. You choose.

Zoë met my eyes. And smiled her daddy's zillion watt smile.

No contest, mommy.

I don't have their ESP but even I can read my child's face.

... ... ...

Anyway the brownie interlude gave me time to think. I was scared, I was nervous, but I made my decision. I'd take over the torch of Thanksgiving.

Later, when mom and grandma walked us to the door, I stopped on the front steps, looked back. Monster and Zoë were ahead of me, headed off towards the black Cayenne at the curb. I said, ''Mom, Grandma, this year you will not work on Thanksgiving! I will do it ! I'll take charge. All you'll have to do is show up and enjoy yourselves."

They gaped at me.

I hugged them both and ran down the steps after my daughter.

Behind me I heard Grandma say, ''What just happened? Can someone explain to me what just happened here?''

''I believe we were fired.''

'"Bout time, Helen."

"God help us," mumbled my mom.

... ... ...

Late that night I sat at the breakfast bar, surrounded by coupons and list and notes. My iPad was dialed to Martha Stewart's website. I had everything all in order, all planned out. And I was going it alone. Ella would be away for the holiday, so no help from her.

I mumbled, ''I can do this! But what the fuck is brine? "

"Babe."

''Geez, make a noise!''

''What are you up to?" It was almost midnight and Ranger just got home. He smelled lovely, like brisk autumn air and Bulgari. I kissed him.

A while later he pulled away and asked me again.

''I'm doing Thanksgiving this year," I explained.

"Babe, you don't know how to cook.''

I sighed. ''Do you know what brine is?"

"Uh, pickles?'

''No! For a turkey."

''No."

''Did your mother make Thanksgiving when you were little?''

''Babe. You must be joking."

''What did you do?''

''We'd rent a big chalet in Vermont and we'd all fly up the night before—my dad and me and Nick, and Anthony and his sister, his mom and dad, our friends...Tank. Lester and his parents. It was a crowd."

"And your mom?"

Shrug. "Sometimes. Maybe. She works a lot, babe. You know that."

"Then what?"

"And then we all went snowboarding or skiing."

''What? Snowboarding?''

''Yeah. And Anthony's mom would cook dinner. It was lots of fun." He dropped a kiss on my nose."Would you like to do that, babe?''

I sighed. ''Yes. But it wasn't the deal. I promised I'd do everything, for them. All."

"Okay. Better line up a caterer."

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the end of the story, series tbc

a/n inspired by Jersey Sue's very funny Thanksgiving short!

a/n 2 The title refers to a silly poem that my brother gleefully recited every Thanksgiving until I was old enough not to have to spend the day with him! LOL.

[I don't recall the title of the poem..]

I have a bratty sister

If she got lost

I never would have missed her

On the rim of the Grand Canyon I hope

She'd step on a piece of soap.

Though I'd be near

Her calls I wouldn't hear.

Ooops, no more bratty sister!

Happy Thanksgiving, enjoy your turkey

_by Ogden Nash?