Part Eight
The room was silent. Lee wiped at her damp cheeks. "Sorry, guys," she mumbled thickly. She didn't understand what was going on, on SO many levels. Why did this happen after the better part of a month had gone by? Why did Jared have to be removed from the building? And, most importantly, why didn't he tell her himself? Why did the news have to come from Andrea?
Parker knelt down next to her friend. The sprinter didn't speak, but drew her legs up towards her chin, forcing her body into a ball.
From the other side of the beanbag, Mara spoke up. "So, what happens now?" she asked, brushing her blue-streaked hair away from her dark blue eyes.
"The hearing is set for after Thanksgiving vacation," Dominique said. The Jamaican had clearly gotten more of a rundown from the bubbly RA, and for good reason- she was easily the most level-headed of the bunch, aside from Julie. But even Julie was quivering with anger.
"So what, he can't come into the building at all until this stupid meeting?" Lee cried, tears spilling down her cheeks once more. She wiped at her runny nose. "I'm going down there first thing tomorrow to talk to those bastards!"
"Easy," Connie warned. "We don't know who filed this report, or what kind of information they had. It may be better to ask what can be done rather than storm in there, all ablaze." The brunette cut her gaze to Julie. "Cat Lady, how did I become the collected one? Isn't that YOUR job?"
Julie snorted. "I'm too mad," she replied grumpily. She turned to Lee. "Worst part about it is she's right."
"Of course I am," Connie smiled grimly. "Learned from you, didn't I?"
News about Jared's hearing spread around the Ducks' extended group like wildfire. By Monday afternoon, most of the Moloney students had heard one version or another. All seemed to conclude that Jared Whitehouse was going to be expelled if the school board of directors deemed him guilty.
Anyone who knew Lee knew that her snippy, frustrated, and pissed off demeanor was unlike her. One of her professors even pulled her aside before class and asked if she would rather get the notes in an email and answer discussion questions in lieu of attending class. She had politely declined, of course, but instead sat the lecture, glaring at the professor as he spoke.
The Ducks weren't any better- they took their frustration out on each other, checking as hard as they could into the boards during practice. Julie spat out insults as she deflected their shots. Finally, even Coach McElvaine had had enough. He skated over to center ice and blew his whistle.
Once the team had taken a knee, Coach McElvaine surveyed them. "What is going on?" he finally asked, his voice even and pleasant. "You played beautifully last week. What has made you lose your cool?"
"It's Jared Whitehouse, sir," Adam replied, under a sheen of sweat and a trickle of blood from where Portman had gotten him against the boards. "A friend of ours. He's being… well, he got word this weekend that he has to meet with the board of directors for that hike some of us went on a month ago."
"Is that so?" McElvaine sounded intrigued. His blue eyes were narrowed when he asked, "And what is the proposed punishment?"
"Expulsion," Charlie snapped. Captain Duck had been oddly quiet, taking and giving checks freely all afternoon. Goldberg felt that he was trying to come up with a plan. "Because Lee broke her ankle and they were "put in danger," as they put it, he may be expelled."
"We went on that hike as friends," Kenny spoke up. "It wasn't part of any program he was running."
"Exactly," Adam and Julie said together.
"Whitehouse, what does he play?" their coach asked.
"Basketball," chorused the Ducks.
McElvaine nodded. "Well," he said, clapping his hands, "What's your plan?"
"Excuse me?" Goldberg was confused. Normally their coaches tried to get them to stay OUT of incidents. This one… seemed to be encouraging their involvement?
"My dear Greg, you all must have a plan to back your friend up," their coach said energetically, looking to each one. "What's your course of action?"
"We'll go testify," Charlie said. He turned to the rest of the team. "Even the ones who weren't on that hike, you all know Jared wouldn't have done anything to put any one of us in trouble, right? And the ones who were… you guys can all say that you went as friends, not as resident and RA. That's got to count for something, right, coach?" He turned back to the older gentleman.
"It's a start," he said kindly. "Go shower. Go to the office tomorrow. I'll see what I can find out on my end."
And with that, practice was over.
"He gives me the willies," Averman finally said.
The first thing the next morning, Charlie, Adam, Julie, and Parker went down to the student life office.
"Where is everyone?" the captain grumbled, peering into the dark windows.
Adam checked his watch. "I assume they don't open until 9, like every other office in the world."
Charlie stared at his best friend. "I'm sitting right here until they show up, then." He plopped down in front of the door.
Parker stifled a yawn. "If they don't open until 9, can we go get breakfast?" She batted her eyelashes up at Adam. "I'm hungry."
"I'm not moving," Charlie said from the floor.
"Fine," Julie said with a swish of her long blonde hair. "We'll be back."
As they walked away, Charlie called, "Bring me a muffin!"
When they returned, Charlie was deep in the throes of Candy Crush. Julie tossed him a muffin, which he snatched out of the air with ease. He sniffed it appreciatively. "Mmm, blueberry." He grinned up at the goalie. "You would."
"Uh, yeah!" She smirked. "Mainer, remember?"
While Charlie ate his muffin, Parker seized control of the phone and went to town on Charlie's high score. It was only when she killed the battery that Adam realized that Charlie had taken his phone out of his pocket before breakfast without him noticing. He slapped his roommate on the back of the head.
"Just like a love tap, Banksie," he said through a mouthful of muffin.
Assistant Director Sabrina Perry rarely hated her job. She was well-known on campus for being fun, professional, and a fabulous dresser, as was the expectation of a native Parisian. Today was no exception- she had on a pair of charcoal gray flared Donna Karan trousers, and a white silk top by Yves Saint Laurent with a mandarin collar and cap sleeves. Paired with a black silk blazer, her trusty black Manolo Blahniks, and carrying a posh leather bag, she was ready to take on the day.
She hadn't counted on having a crowd waiting for her arrival.
She recognized some of the kids clustered around the entrance to the student life offices. The tall one, Adam something or another, was trying to wrestle what looked like a pocket dictionary away from Charlie Conway, while some of their little friends watched with amusement.
"Good morning," she said with a frosty smile. She looked pointedly at the giant hockey player sprawled out on the floor. "If I may?" She held up her keys.
"Oh, right, duh, sorry," Charlie said, scrambling to get out of the way. Even though the woman was wearing some scary-pointy heels, he towered over her. "Good morning, ma'am."
The woman strode into the office and led the way down the hall to her personal office, where she hung up her coat and made herself at home at her desk. She fired up her computer, and, when she realized that the kids had followed her she asked, "And what can I do for you?"
"Ma'am, we're here to talk to you about Jared Whitehouse's hearing," Adam said.
Her frosty smile got flintier. "Mr. Whitehouse's punishment will be doled out after the holidays," she said. "If you've come to file a complaint, then, I have forms that-"
"We aren't here to file complaints!" Parker interrupted.
Sabrina Perry stared at the short blonde girl. Not many dared to interrupt her. "Then what, precisely, are you here for?"
Adam's eyes narrowed. He could sense that the director didn't appreciate being bothered first thing in the morning, but that was too damn bad. "We were with him on the hike, ma'am. We went with him as his friends, not his residents. What happened was a freak accident, and he did everything he could to keep us safe."
Charlie, Julie, and Parker all nodded.
Sabrina Perry nodded, her lips pressed into a firm line. She tried a different tack. "If Mr. Whitehouse has bribed you in any way to go on record on his behalf, I assure you-"
"I don't think you get it!" Julie snapped. She put both of her hands on the massive desk and glared at the French woman, who looked properly taken aback. "Jared Whitehouse is our friend. We are asking what we can do to go on record, if that's what it takes, to clear him of these ridiculous reckless endangerment of residents charges!"
At that moment, one of the other directors, a middle-aged man in an ill-fitting dress shirt and khakis, appeared at the door. His eyebrows were raised- he had obviously heard Julie's irritated snap.
"Hey folks," he said with a friendly but guarded smile. "Is everything okay in here, Sabrina?"
"Actually, Stephen, these students are here to 'go on record'"- here she made finger quotations, which made Parker hate her even more, "for the Whitehouse hearing."
"Ah." The man looked around at the sour faces. "Well, I think it might be pertinent to hear what they have to say."
Sabrina gaped at him.
"Thank you, sir," Adam said with a smile. He held out his hand. "Adam Banks, Brady Dormitory. This is Julie Gaffney, Charlie Conway, and Parker Harris."
"Stephen Harmon," the man said, accepting the handshake. "All. Very nice to meet you. Perhaps, if you wouldn't mind following me? Sabrina, if you would be so kind…" He led them to a conference room down the hall. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I'll be right back."
When he and Sabrina Perry returned, they had a third with them, a plump woman with red hair and freckles who wore a stretchy black skirt and a pink polo shirt. It was very clear that Sabrina Perry did not like this woman- she was bumbly and a little awkward, but endearing, like a puppy who steps on their own ears.
"Hi everyone, my name is Jillian Blake, and I'm one of the other assistant directors here at Moloney," the plump woman said. Sabrina Perry and Stephen Harmon took seats at each end of the conference table, leaving her to find a seat elsewhere. She squeezed in between Parker and Adam.
"All right, then," Stephen said, clearing his throat. He peered down at a file of papers in his hand. "So, the Whitehouse hearing. Sabrina said that you wanted to go on record?"
"Yes, sir," Adam said. "When we went on that hike with Jared Whitehouse, it was not as his residents. We went as his friends, and when we were stuck on that mountain, he did everything he could to keep us safe. It was a freak accident, and he shouldn't be punished for that!"
"That may be the case, Mr. Banks, but he is still responsible for the safety of all students, friends or not. He violated that trust, and for that, he needs to be held responsible," Sabrina said primly.
Charlie gaped. "So, he can't have friends in his own building?"
"That's not the point," she said dismissively. "The point is, he led the hike, you wound up in the hospital. That is cause for alarm, which is why we've placed him on leave."
"You didn't place him on leave, you fired him and banned him from his own building!" Parker said hotly, tears stinging her eyes. "That storm could've caught anyone off guard!"
"As it stands, the hearing for Mr. Whitehouse is after Thanksgiving, and as a precaution, in case there are ill feelings toward him, he has been removed from the building," Jillian explained. "Obviously, this seems negative, but it's just a precaution."
"That's bullshit!" Julie snapped.
The plump woman looked like she'd been slapped. "Uh, well, see, I'm sorry you feel that way…"
"That tone is not going to get you anywhere," Sabrina interrupted icily.
"Listen, Ms. Perry, I was with the rescue team. If anyone were to be able to assign blame, it would be them, and they said it could happen to anyone!" Charlie said, dangerously close to a patented Charlie Conway fit.
"If you would like, we can video your statements for the hearing," Stephen offered. "If there are any other students who were either with the rescue teams or on the hike who would like to make similar statements, then please send them my way."
"I would like that," Julie said stiffly.
After they gave their statements, they split up- Adam dragged Charlie to class, and Julie and Parker went back to their room. Halfway there, Julie changed her mind.
"Come on," she said, flashing her ID badge at the pass-spot on a door.
"Where are we going?" Parker asked grumpily. They were in a residence hall of some sort, but it was one that she hadn't been in before. Julie appeared to know where she was going, however- within minutes, she had located the door she was looking for.
She knocked.
She heard rustling around in the room, but no response. She knocked louder.
Finally, the door swung open. Jared stared at them. At least, someone who looked like Jared was staring at them. His hair was greasy and he didn't look like he'd shaved in several days.
"Why are you here?" he asked finally.
"We went to the assistant directors' office today," Julie said. "We wanted you to know we went on record in your defense, and that we're telling everyone who was involved with the hike to do the same thing."
"How are you?" Parker asked timidly. Being fairly small, she found that angry, irritable, or otherwise upset people with more than a few inches on her to be intimidating. This was not unlike those times- Jared seemed pissed.
"I want to be left alone!" he snapped. "It's bad enough that I got fired, why do you insist on fixing everything?"
"What do you mean?" Julie asked.
"The directors are making me wait out this hearing, they told me to restrict contact with my residents, Lee keeps texting me, you all barge in here, and I just want to be left alone!"
"You haven't been texting her back?" Parker asked.
He glared at her. Her lip quivered, and she blinked back tears.
"They told me to restrict contact. That means I shouldn't even be talking to you two!"
"Easy, Whitehouse," Julie ground out. "You don't have to be an asshole about it, we just wanted to tell you that we're trying to help!"
"I don't need your help!"
"Our statements might help your case, you know!"
"Just go, please," he said gruffly. He started to shut the door. "I don't want to get into any more trouble than I'm already in."
Parker stuck her foot in the door. "We're helping whether you like it or not." She lunged at him, wrapping her arms around him- her head barely grazed his elbows. "I'm sorry, Jared…"
"Fine, just… go, please." He shut the door.
"That worked out nicely," Julie said after a moment.
They were halfway down the hall when the door opened again. "Parker!" Jared called down the hall.
Parker turned. "Yeah?"
His voice was thick when he said, "Tell Lee I love her."
By Wednesday, all of the Ducks and their friends who had been involved in the hike had submitted videos for Assistant Director Harmon. By Thursday, many of the on-campus residents had started to leave for Thanksgiving break. The dining hall was surprisingly empty when the group showed up for dinner that night.
"Woah, get a load of this place!" Averman blinked.
"It's break, Aves," Julie said good-naturedly. She threw her coat down in a seat. "No lines!"
"Yee-haw!" Dwayne cheered, throwing his hat in the air. The girl he'd been hanging out with, Kim, caught it, giggling.
"Easy, killer," Russ chided. He and Dom held hands as they perused the dinner options. Between the chain on his wallet and her braids, you could hear them clear across the dining hall.
Adam and Julie settled in at their table with identical plates of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and green beans. Julie stared at Adam. His fork was halfway to his mouth before he noticed her gaze.
"What?" he asked testily.
"We would have killed each other if we had stayed together," she said sweetly, spearing herself a green bean.
Across from them, Lee and Parker laughed at Adam's surprised frown.
Lee still wasn't her usual chipper self- since Jared got fired, she had become quiet and withdrawn. She did her work in a study carrel in the library. She got her coffee early in the morning before overseeing track practice. Her mom was driving down tomorrow to pick her up and bring her to their house in the Hamptons, a fact that Dom had only found out when Lee started packing.
Parker nudged Lee with her shoulder. "You okay, champ?"
The runner gave her a sad smile. "M'okay." She took a bite of her grilled cheese sandwich.
"Uh-huh. Now pull the other one."
Lee smiled. "You're going home tomorrow, too, right?"
Parker nodded. "Yep. As soon as Brit Lit's over, me and Kenny are hitting the road."
At the mention of his name, Kenny looked up at the other end of the table and grinned. He watched Parker talk animatedly about the Turkey Trot, some crazy race her town put on every year, and how it was the kind of thing that Lee would love.
"You ready to meet the parents?" Averman whispered beside him. His plate was mounded over with fries.
"Huh?"
"You know… going to Parker's house, meeting her family, wooing her grandma." He bit a fry. "Haha, get it? Wooing? Since your last name-"
"-is Wu. Yeah. Got it." Kenny forced a smile. "I dunno, I'm kind of nervous. What if grandma doesn't like me?"
"She totally will," Dom said, holding her spoon. "Parker's psyched to bring you home, she keeps talking about that race you're doing on Friday morning!"
Kenny grinned. "Really?"
Dom pointed a slender, pink-polished finger in Parker's direction. "Doing it right now, Wu."
At that moment, Charlie breezed in, carrying a very large box. He nodded in greeting. "S'up, guys?"
"Depends on what's in the box, Conway," Guy said. He and Connie were playing footsie under the table.
Charlie beamed at him. "So glad you asked, Guy!"
"I didn't," he mumbled to himself.
The whole table was watching Charlie now, half in interest and half a bit wary. Adam slapped his hand to his face and groaned.
"I was thinking, we need something to bring us together. You know, like, a jersey for our group!" He pulled out a shirt from the box. It was fashioned like a baseball shirt, with red sleeves and writing on the front and back. "Banksie, baby, here ya go!"
Adam caught his shirt. Sure enough, he'd expected as much. "Charlie's Angels." He stared at his roommate. "Really?" He turned the back over. "At least you got my number right. Small victories."
The captain flashed his pearly whites. "Really really." He tossed out the remainder of the shirts to the others. Most of them just shook their heads and laughed.
Lee, on the other hand, immediately unbuttoned her navy blue cardigan and put hers on over her tank top. "I love them, Chuck!" she said happily. "Where's yours?"
Charlie held up a hand. "Way ahead of you, star," he said, unbuttoning his flannel to show off his shirt- instead of the front saying 'Charlie's Angels', his shirt just said 'Charlie'. His last name and number were on the back, similar to the others.
"At least now he can't say he forgot what his name is," Parker pointed out.
Parker wore her shirt to class the next morning. On her way to her seat, she got several smiles and smirks. She didn't care. She thought the shirts were dorky, but Charlie cared enough about them all to have them made for them, so she loved it.
"Psst!"
She started. Across the aisle, next to the bored looking sorority girl who texted during class, was a brown-haired boy who looked vaguely familiar. He was grinning at her.
Parker pointed at herself questioningly.
The guy nodded. "Love the shirt."
Before he could say any more, their professor showed up and booted up the day's powerpoint. Parker wondered where she knew him from. It distracted her all class. She assessed his shaggy brown hair, his green 'hike ME' shirt and worn brown corduroys. It hit her. He was the kid from the drink machines, way early on in the school year.
On her way out of the classroom, Fruit Punch Boy caught up with her. "Hey! Charlie's Angel!"
She turned. "Hey… Fruit Punch Kid?"
He snickered. "Hey, you remembered!" He hoisted his JanSport onto his shoulder. "Winn McCallister."
"Parker Harris," she replied, shaking his hand.
"So," he gestured to her shirt, "I take it 'Charlie' is Charlie Conway?"
"The one and only," she smiled.
He nodded. "Ahhh, that's cool. Figures, really."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He gave her a pitying smile. "You know… big man on campus, captain Duck, the works. It figures that a cute girl like you would be his girlfriend." He walked away before she could say anything.
Parker shook her head. "Not his girlfriend. Weirdo."
Kenny caught up to her on his way back from breakfast. He was also wearing his 'Charlie's Angels' shirt. "Perfect timing," he said as he fell in step beside her.
"You ready to go?"
"Bag's packed, phone's charged, iPod is ready."
Parker's face fell. "Okay, well, you want to come over, then? I haven't started packing at all."
Kenny shook his head with a smile. "How 'bout I go get my bag, and then you can start packing?"
They parted, and Parker raced back to the suite to find that Lee had left a note on the whiteboard, and Julie had left with the Minnesota Ducks already. Dom was still in class.
She started throwing clothes in a duffel bag. She was throwing socks and underwear into another bag, narrowly missing catching Kenny in the face with a pair of wayward panties when he walked in.
He raised his eyebrows. "Wanna warn a guy before you start throwing your underwear at him?" He couldn't help but notice that most of the pairs of panties were lacy and bright colors.
She blushed. "Sorry, dude." She shoved the offending garments into the bag hastily. "I just need to grab my shower stuff and my glasses and we're good to go, I think."
"Cool." He made himself comfortable at her desk. She had pinned several photos of their group up on her bulletin board- there was one of them at a soccer game, holding coffees; one of her, Dom, Lee, and Julie with green facial masks and bathrobes on; one of her and Suze after a softball practice, their arms slung over each other's shoulders; one of her, Averman, and Russ making the 'see, speak, and hear no evil' faces; one of the two of them during one of their Mario nights, high-fiving each other; and one of her ruffling Adam's hair. "When did we take this one?" He pointed at the one of them playing video games. "I've never seen it!"
Parker looked over his shoulder. "I dunno… a few weeks ago? Aves texted it to me and I printed it." She looked at him shyly. "I like it."
"Me too," he said. He gestured to the bags lying on the floor, all askew. "You finally ready?"
"Just a sec," she called over her shoulder. "I forgot my toothbrush!"
Kenny sighed as he hefted the two duffels onto his shoulders. "At this rate, we'll be in Rhode Island by next Thursday."
She swatted him on the shoulder.
"Hey!"
"It's like raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaain, on your wedding day, a freeeeeeeeeee ride when you've already paid, some good adviiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice, that you just didn't take, well who would've thought, it figuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuures!" Averman, Guy, and Charlie chorused in the back row of the silver SUV that Banks was currently white-knuckling.
The row in front of them, Julie, Connie, and Fulton were flipping through catalogs, doing what Connie called 'dream shopping.' "You take a catalog, and pretend that you have no money limit, and circle the things you want!" Fulton had immediately gone to town on a Pottery Barn catalog.
In the front, Goldberg offered Adam a cookie. "Sorry, dude."
Adam rolled his eyes and groaned. "Just change the song, for the love of God."
Goldberg shrugged, and hit skip. The opening strains of Beyoncé's 'Single Ladies' started to play.
Adam resisted the urge to scream.
Portman was distracted by the dulcet tones of Nine Inch Nails. He hoisted his pack onto his shoulder and followed the crowd of people off the airplane. His legs ached- the woman in front of him kept trying to lean back in her seat, which drove the little fold-up table into his kneecaps.
Since he didn't really like the idea of missing another flight and talking to airport security because of an outburst, he'd just gritted his teeth and turned up his music.
Now, he was just happy to be getting off the damn plane. He was especially happy to see his brother Tom. It wasn't always that Tom was home for the holidays. He'd spent the past few on a kibbutz in Israel, and he was kind of awful at staying in touch. Portman had been shocked and a bit touched when he'd texted and told him that he would pick Portman up for the airport when he came home for Thanksgiving break.
"Come on, man!" he muttered to himself when a man and his three toddler girls blocked his path. They were pretty adorable, with their blonde pigtails and their matching pink peacoats, but he had places to be and people to see.
"Daddy, why is that man wearing his tissue on his head?" One of the toddlers was eyeing Portman with interest, openly pointing at his trademark red bandana.
"Reese, it's not polite to point," the man said evenly, taking her hand. "It's time to go." The girl followed her sisters obediently, still looking over her shoulder at the hulking hockey player.
Portman smiled at her and waved. Banks would've been proud.
He bypassed an older couple and walked out towards the escalators that led to baggage claim. Tom was supposed to meet him there.
It was halfway down the escalator when he spotted him.
He wasn't alone.
"What the fuck?"
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Kenny asked for the millionth time. This time he was only partly kidding.
"Hey, just because I took a wrong turn and went through the Bronx, doesn't mean I don't know how to get to my own house!" Parker sounded indignant. Truth was, she was glad they were past the nightmare that was New York City and into the more calm streets of Rhode Island. "We're almost there, maybe like, another forty-five minutes?"
Kenny groaned.
"Jesus, Wu, you're worse than Conway!"
He glared at her. "Mean."
"Truthful!" she chirped.
A few accidental-on-purpose wrong turns later, they were on a quiet, tree-lined street that looked like it could've been in a movie. It looked like a neighborhood where you knew everyone and got together for Monday night football games. Kenny thought back to a Christmas movie he'd seen with his sister. "You guys don't all have matching Frosty the Snowmans that go on your roof, do you?"
Parker snickered. "Christmas with the Kranks, huh? No, this is Rhode Island, not the home of the Stepford Wives."
"Is this your street?" Kenny asked, looking at old farmhouses, colonials, and Victorians flying past.
"Nope, next street over. I swear, you have the patience of a five year old," Parker said. She pointed at a blue Victorian house. "That's my friend Cindy's house."
"Cindy?" Kenny blanked.
"She played softball with me in high school. We were on student council together," Parker replied.
She drove all the way down the next street, pulling into the driveway at the very end. Off to the side of the road, Kenny could see the ocean crashing onto the rocks.
Kenny peered out the window. The house was your quintessential New England farmhouse, with an attached barn. There was a separate garage off the turnaround. The house itself was white, with black shutters and the barn was red, with one of those weathervanes on the very top- a sailboat sat atop the wind arrow. Smoke from the fireplace curled around the chimney. The porch had two rocking chairs on it, and was decorated to the nines with pumpkins and potted plants. The tree in the front yard had a tire swing hanging from the lowest branch.
"Your house is awesome!" Kenny breathed. "The ocean's in your backyard!"
"Technically it's the side yard, but yeah, basically," Parker said. "There's a dock and a boathouse down the hill a little."
"Woah."
Parker picked up her duffel bags and led him through the door into a mudroom. She kicked off her Sambas.
"Mom? Daddy? Randall? We're home!" she called as she dropped her bags near a pair of doors that Kenny would learn later hid the washing machine and the dryer. Almost immediately, a giant of a Saint Bernard came bounding out to greet them. The beast almost knocked Parker clean off her feet- if it hadn't been for a quick grab on Kenny's part, she would've been down for sure.
"Hey Silas!" she cooed, petting the slobbering monster. The dog wagged its enormous tail as it licked her face in greeting.
"Your dog's the size of a small pony," Kenny told her, petting the top of the dog's head. He was rewarded with a swift lick to the hand.
"In here!" came a voice from off to the right. "Si, come!"
The dog trotted towards the voice. Parker grabbed Kenny's hand and led him through to the kitchen.
A tall man with sandy brown hair that looked a lot like Adam's stood with his back to them near the sink, measuring something in a cup. He was dressed in jeans and a red flannel shirt, and when he stepped toward the mixing bowl full of ingredients on the counter, Kenny noticed that he was barefoot.
Silas plopped himself right underneath the man, his tail thump-thumping in anticipation of falling food.
"There's my girl!" the man grinned, putting the cup down and hurdling the dog. He enveloped Parker in a hug, picking her up off her feet. "How was the drive?"
"Oh, just dandy," Parker replied airily.
"How many?"
"How many what?" Kenny asked.
"Ooh, sorry," Parker said. "Daddy, this is Kenny Wu. Ken, this is my dad, A-"
"Andy. Nice to meet you, Ken," her father said, shaking his hand. "And you've met our elephant, Si?"
Kenny laughed.
"So, Park, how many times did you get lost?" Mr. Harris asked. His eyes twinkled.
Parker pouted. "Only twice, but one of them brought us through the Bronx instead of around like you're always saying we need to go…"
Mr. Harris started snickering. A woman emerged from another room, holding a book and muttering a little to herself. She looked exactly like Parker, only older and taller. She was dressed very similarly to her husband- jeans, a blue flannel shirt, and a pair of beat-up slippers.
"Mel, Parker and Kenny are here," Mr. Harris said, turning back to his baking.
Mrs. Harris looked up from her book. Her pleasant face broke into a smile. "Hi, honey!" She put the book down, just barely missing putting the corner in a butter dish, and sending the knife that had been propped up flying across the room. She looked abashed. "Oops."
Silas trotted over to the fallen utensil and started licking it hopefully.
"It's okay, Si's got it," Parker said. "Hi, Mom," she said, giving her mother a hug. "This is Kenny. Ken, this is my mom, Melanie."
"It's nice to meet you," Kenny said, sticking out his hand.
"Oh, honey, you're as good as family around here," Mrs. Harris said, giving him a hug too. "How many times did she get lost?"
"Moooom!" Parker groaned.
Mrs. Harris blinked. "Did we already go over this?"
"Two wrong turns, once through the Bronx," Parker repeated, ignoring the amused smiles. "Is Randall here yet?"
"Not yet," her father answered. "Her flight comes in in a couple of days- Wednesday, actually. Cindy's older brother is flying in from Chicago around the same time, so Dave's just going to bring Randy home with them."
"Wednesday? She couldn't get here any sooner?"
Mr. Harris sighed. "I guess not, but she says they'll have more time for Christmas, so, she'll be home longer then."
"Okay…"
"You want to show Kenny where the guest room is, maybe get your stuff brought up to your room? Unless you guys have laundry, we can get some started if you want."
"No laundry here, just did some at school," Parker smirked.
Her father feigned shock. "You mean you put the books and the bat down long enough to do something else? I'm so proud!" He looked at Kenny. "What about you? Have any laundry that needs doing?"
"I'm good, sir, thanks," Kenny said with a smile.
"None of this 'sir' business, it makes me feel old! Andy's fine, or your Royal Chefiness, but that can wait 'til after you've tasted these brownies." Mr. Harris picked up a hand mixer. "Flee, my children, flee!"
Parker led Kenny through the dining area of the kitchen to the living room, giving the ten-second tour as she went. "So, kitchen, down there's the bathroom and Mom's office… wouldn't go in there if I were you, she's a biology professor at Brown… okay, so, this is the study, the living room, and here's the stairs… upstairs is my room, Randy's room, the guest room, and Mom and Daddy's room, and the bathroom's at the top of the stairs… coming?"
"Yeah," Kenny said, sounding distracted.
Parker followed his gaze to a series of photos hanging in the stairwell. Her and Randall as babies; her and Randall in matching softball uniforms; the family on a hike; Parker holding up a birthday cupcake with a toothy smile; the family during one of the many Turkey Trots (this one had to have been very old, since both girls were small enough to ride in a little red wagon); Randall doing homework at the kitchen table; Parker holding up her first softball mitt; Randall at Model United Nations in Providence; both girls' senior pictures.
"This one's my favorite," Kenny teased, pointing at the one of her holding a cupcake. "Not much has changed, huh?"
"Shush, you," Parker said, scurrying up the stairs. "Here's your room," she said, flinging the door to the guest room open. It was a bright, cheerful room, done in pale yellows, blues, and greens. The quilt was one that Parker's grandmother had made in Sweden before immigrating to the United States.
"Cool," Kenny set his duffel bag down on the floor next to the bed. "Where's your room?"
"Next to this one," Parker said. She led him into her room. It looked a lot like her section of her suite at school- green bedspread, khaki and brown pillows, a khaki dust ruffle. There were posters of the Red Sox and plaques from softball and student council and honor council on the walls, and softball trophies on a shelf of the bookcase that framed the bay window seat. The rest of the space belonged to books and photos. A small tv and PlayStation 3 sat atop her dresser.
"We are totally playing Crash Team Racing later," Kenny said seriously.
"And I am going to kick your ass," Parker smiled sweetly.
"Charlie, you made it!" Casey Conway rushed toward her son. The Minnesota Ducks, under strict orders, had to stop into the diner first to see Casey before going their separate ways.
"Hey Mom," Charlie mumbled, trying to avoid the warm smiles from the older diners.
She squeezed him tightly. "I missed you around here!" She kissed his cheek.
"Mom, seriously?!" Charlie wiped his cheek off. "Gross!"
"Sorry, Casey," Adam said, getting his own hug and kiss, "Apparently your son hasn't learned manners yet." He shot his roommate a warning look.
"Oh, Adam, you look out for him so much!" Casey gushed. "You don't appreciate Adam's friendship enough, Charlie, you know that, right?"
Connie and Julie snickered.
"Hey, Casey, what's cookin'?" Goldberg said, sitting on one of the red vinyl stools. "Please tell me you haven't run out of strawberry milkshakes!"
Casey gave the goalie a warm, maternal smile. The strawberry milkshake was kind of an inside joke with them- when Charlie started playing hockey with Greg, they spent a lot of time during elementary school doing their homework at the diner counter, where Casey and her sassy coworker, Sissy, could keep an eye on them. Casey often rewarded their hard work with milkshakes or sometimes if the manager wasn't around, a batch of onion rings. While Charlie bounced from coffee to chocolate to vanilla to a very trying week where he would only accept cherry, Greg remained loyal to the strawberry milkshake.
One afternoon, the boys had worked straight through the dinner rush on a lab report, and when she went to make their milkshakes, Casey had to tell a heartbroken Greg that the last of the strawberry ice cream had gone to a pair of seniors who had come in for the early bird specials. Every day after that, he made sure they hadn't run out before pulling his homework out of his backpack.
"No, honey, I made sure we had extra, just for you."
Goldberg grinned. "I love you."
"What kind does everyone else want?" Casey asked the rest of the group.
"Vanilla, please," Adam said.
"Vanilla!" Guy and Julie chorused.
"You would, Guy," Charlie snickered.
"Chocolate!" Averman and Connie chimed in.
"Coffee," Fulton said after a minute.
"Charlie?"
"Hold on… I'm thinking," Charlie said, tapping his chin. "Surprise me?"
Within minutes, Casey and a tall, voluptuous black woman with a short-cropped afro came back out, carrying trays of milkshakes in to-go cups.
"Sissy!" Goldberg and Charlie exclaimed. "Hi!"
"Hey sugar," Sissy replied, dishing out milkshakes. "Here's your strawberry one, Greg Goldberg, you strange little boy. Any boy who doesn't like chocolate milkshakes has got to be outta his mind, which goes for you, too, Adam Banks, do you get any more handsome?"
"Awww," Averman smirked, taking a sip of milkshake, "She called you handsome!"
"Shut up, Averman," Adam replied through his teeth.
"You kids drink up now, all of that milk will build up those strong bones! Hockey players need strong bones. Don't let me catch you trading your milk for any of that booze, you hear?"
"Yes, Sissy," the Ducks chorused.
The curvy black woman did a mental head count. "Charlie Conway," she said sternly. "Where are the other Ducks?"
Charlie stirred his chocolate-cherry milkshake thoughtfully. "Well, there was this one morning, Banksie, see, he's not a morning person, and the others thought it would be funny to give him decaf… we never saw them again."
Sissy narrowed her eyes. "Boy, you best be givin' me the truth. Now."
Adam cut the captain off with a long-suffering roll of the eyes. "Dwayne's with his aunt and cousins in Cleveland… Russ was staying with his girlfriend's family in Philly, Portman's in Chicago… oh, and Kenny's gone home with Julie's roommate."
Sissy raised a penciled-on eyebrow. Beside her, Casey made a surprised face. "Oh?" they said together.
"Come down, Mom, they're not dating," Charlie said, slurping his shake.
Averman, Julie, and Connie became very quiet.
"Yet." He gave her his trademark grin.
Dean couldn't believe it. It was definitely his brother, all right. A bit shorter, yes. A bit softer in the features, gentler, somehow. Tom's hair was a little longer than Dean's, but it was just as dark, and he wore a similar bandana. His eyes creased into a wide smile as he stepped off the escalator.
"Hey, what's up, little brother?" His smile looked easy, but his eyes said otherwise- he was afraid of how his brother was going to react.
The younger brother frowned. "When were you gunna tell me?"
Tom shrugged. "Didn't know how to start."
Dean sighed. "You could have at least called. I know you didn't get us both iphones for the Candy Crush."
Tom shifted the toddler in his arms. What looked like a diaper bag was draped over his shoulder. "Want to meet Uncle Dean?" he cooed to the baby. "He's not as much of an asshole as he pretends to be." He held the baby out to him.
Dean took it hesitantly. The baby stared at him intently. "Name?"
Tom gave the baby another soft smile. "Her name is Norah Jane Portman. She was born last year. Do you remember that girl I dated in and out of tech school? Jane? The one I left when I went to Israel last year?"
Dean nodded. "She was a babe."
"She showed up at Mom's one day with Norah and all of her stuff. When Mom opened the door, she handed her over, said, 'She's Tom's, and I quit' and walked off. I haven't heard from her since."
They collected Dean's bag while Dean rocked his niece in his arms. He couldn't get over it- Tom was a father. The girl had dark, unruly curls and the same dark blue eyes that the rest of the Portman family had.
"So what, you moved back in with Mom and, what, you've been working?"
"Yeah, the restaurant gives me night shifts, and I get to help Mom and be around Norah." He grinned, and threw Dean's bag into the backseat of his car, a beat-up Geo Tracker with a carseat. "Not a bad gig, you know?"
"You're a dad," Dean murmured. "Gotta say, she's a babe."
Tom laughed. "Easy, now, she's a minor!"
"Oh my God. You guys, guess who just texted me?" Julie exclaimed, waving her phone around wildly. She grazed the top of Averman's head.
He looked affronted. "Watch it!"
"Who?" Connie asked, stroking Guy's hair. Next to them, Goldberg looked disgusted.
"Portman," Julie said excitedly. "Look at this picture!"
"Lemme see that!" Charlie grabbed the phone away from her, ignoring Casey's admonishing 'Charlie!' as she served up dishes of chicken pot pie to a pair of truckers. "What the fuck?"
"Jesus Christ on a cracker, what is it already?" Adam sounded annoyed.
Charlie turned to his roommate. He couldn't believe his ears. Adam- prim and proper, never said a word against anyone, had just taken the Lord's name in vain. He had waited for this day his whole life, practically. First, swear words. Second, becoming Charlie's right-hand pranking assistant. "I'm savoring this moment," he said dreamily. "Only I have the power to make Mama Banks take the Lord's name-"
"Dude, shut UP! What's the picture?" Guy complained.
"Guys… Portman's an uncle!" Julie said quietly.
"I wonder how their mom's taking it," Connie wondered.
"Picture Portman holding a baby and playing peek-a-boo with it," sniggered Averman.
"On that note, I should probably go see if I have any unexpected bretheren," Goldberg said. He stood and stretched, revealing a strip of wide belly. "Chuck, let me know if your mom makes those twice-baked potatoes for dinner next week, cos I call dibs on the leftovers."
"I will!" Casey called from the kitchen.
Goldberg's smile was enormous. "I love your mom."
Connie, Guy, and Julie left next, promising to get together for a pick-up game of hockey before Thanksgiving. Averman bailed soon after, saying his older sister, her husband, and their kids were coming in from Albany for the week and they had just texted him.
That left Charlie and Adam.
Charlie surveyed his roommate properly. Adam was definitely one of the more attractive members of the team- always had been. His nose was one of those straight ones with a bit of a ski-jump bit at the end, which was, of course, a hit with the ladies. With his sandy blond hair and blue eyes, he was what his mom would've called a dreamboat.
It was the damn sweater-vests that threw him for a loop. Adam's family had enough money to stylishly clothe the boy, and he spent it on that. Jesus.
With his looks, his money, his grades, and damn, the talent… Adam Banks was, in the words of the girls, a catch.
"Banksie? How come you don't have a girlfriend?" he asked abruptly.
Adam swiveled on his stool to stare at his roommate. "Do I really have to grace that with an answer?" He took a ladylike sip of his milkshake.
"It's just… other than Julie, and trust me, she's hot, we've never seen you even excited about… wait… Banksie, are you gay? Because it's okay, you know, Lady Gaga said it perfectly, you were born that way and all that-"
"I'm not gay," Adam assured him. "I don't have time for girls. Between hockey, school, and my parents, I don't have time to deal with some girl who expects me to bring her places and call her and text her and buy her presents…" He shuddered. "I can't, Charlie, I can't."
Charlie looked at him in horror. "Banks," he breathed. "You know that not ALL girls are like, psycho, right? There are some normal ones out there."
"Where?" He suddenly sounded miserable. Charlie had never heard him sound that sad before, not even when he couldn't play during the Junior Goodwill Games.
Charlie smiled at him encouragingly. "Banksie, we go to school with a bunch of hot, athletic, smart girls. There's bound to be some that aren't total nightmares, right? I mean, our girls aren't horrible or evil or clingy. Do you like any of them?"
"Our girls?" Adam repeated. "You mean, Connie and Julie?"
"And Lee and Parker and Dom and Kim and Mara," Charlie added helpfully. "Any of them?"
Adam thought for a minute. "I mean, they're all awesome people…"
Charlie nodded knowingly. "But you can't picture yourself putting it in any of them, huh?"
"Could you be any more crass?" Big sigh. "I was going to say, I can't see myself having a relationship with any of them."
Charlie nodded again. An idea hit him, which made him knock over his milkshake. Adam grabbed for the napkins and started to mop up, almost absently, which made him realize that maybe he took care of his roommate almost too well.
"Banksie."
"What?"
"We should go cl-"
Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed, "So help me, Conway, if you finish that sentence with 'clubbing', I will kill you."
Charlie looked outraged. "But why not?! It's perfect! If you and I go we could be wingmen!" He looked extremely pleased with himself.
"No."
"Charlie, leave that boy alone!" Sissy rounded the corner, swatting her dishrag at him.
She was, at least for Charlie, the closest thing to a grandmother he'd ever had, Hans and Jan, of course being the grandfathers. Casey had showed up to the diner when Sissy was working, holding a four year-old Charlie's hand as she asked for an application. Sissy had immediately scrounged up a set of crayons and a coloring book that a customer had left behind to keep the boy occupied while his mother talked to Sissy about a job.
Not that crayons and a coloring book were enough to keep Charlie occupied for more than ten seconds. He'd bounced all over the stools, had asked Sissy why her hair was so curly (it was much longer and bigger then, and had a distinct 60's vibe to it), and then announced that he was hungry.
When Sissy offered him chicken nuggets and French fries, he declared his love.
Charlie turned his most charming grin on the older woman. "Sissy, I'm trying to get him to be more adventurous!"
Sissy eyed him. "Not everyone is dumb enough to try jumping off a roof to see if they can fly," she said, hinting at the time he came home with a broken collarbone when he and Averman tried that in the third grade.
Adam smirked. "You really should wear a helmet all the time, shouldn't you?"
"Not that it would change anything," Sissy agreed.
"You guys suck," Charlie pouted, sticking out his lip like he used to when Sissy told he'd had enough ice cream for one day.
"Mouth," Adam and Sissy said at the same time.
"Don't you have to get home, sugar?" Sissy asked Adam.
His eyes clouded over. He sighed. He'd been putting going home off for as long as possible, because his parents, particularly his father, were difficult people to deal with. His older brother, Jeffrey, had really had the right idea with going to school several hundred miles away at Duke instead of semi-locally. For the second year in a row, Jeffrey was going to his girlfriend's family's house for Thanksgiving, which left Adam wide open for John Banks's criticism.
"I guess so," he mumbled. He slipped off the stool. "Call me if you want to do anything."
"Even clubbing?" Charlie brightened.
"You know, I don't care if you need help opening a pickle jar. Call me so I have an excuse to leave."
Charlie frowned. John Banks didn't really approve of Adam hanging around the rest of the Ducks off the ice, the only reason for which being that they got into heaps of trouble when they were off the ice. Sometimes even when they were on the ice. His mother, Pamela, wasn't much better- she spent more time planning Ladies Auxiliary luncheons and shopping. Charlie knew family dinners at the Banks's consisted of John asking pointed questions to Adam, and when the answers weren't perfunctory or acceptable, began lecturing.
'Don't let Papa Banks get you down," he said finally. He watched as the silver SUV eased out of the parking lot.
By the time Wednesday rolled around, Parker was positively bouncing. Kenny could tell that, despite the difference in age and interest, she and her sister were obviously close. The picture of the two of them on her desk at school, making funny faces after Randall's college graduation ceremony, made that obvious.
Mrs. Harris had left the house early that morning, saying there were a few things she had to check on at campus- ("Meaning she has experiments going on and fish to feed, so she's got to check up on them," Parker had explained over waffles)- and that they should go downtown to the bakery and buy dinner rolls and some kind of celebratory pastry for after the race on Friday.
The air was cool and crisp, the perfect fall morning.
Parker scampered along, walking briskly and skipping in order to keep up with Kenny's longer strides, pointing out important landmarks on the way.
"That's the house that belongs to the Chihuahua that Silas is afraid of," she said, pointing to a green Cape with neatly trimmed hedges. "This is our friend Dana's house," this time pointing to a red farmhouse with black shutters and a willow tree in the front yard, "He used to ride unicycles in the town parades."
They rounded a corner and came into the town square, where the library, a fairly conservative older Victorian building, and the post office took up one side, and local businesses made up the rest. In the middle of the green was a gazebo decorated for fall with pumpkins, hay bales, and cornstalks.
"It's like walking into Gilmore Girls," Kenny commented.
"Great show," Parker said. She led him to the bakery- Sunrise and Shine Bakery and Café. It was a cute, eclectic little place, with bright orange walls, lime green trim, and bright purple window boxes. A bell tinkled when you walked in. There was always oldies music playing on the radio next to the coffee bar, and the locals tended to have usual seats. Today, though, there was only an older man with glasses and a copy of the Boston Globe at a window seat.
"Hey, Parker! Haven't seen you in a while!" A tall dark-haired girl with thick-rimmed glasses smiled from behind the counter.
"Ohmigod, Claudette! Hey!" she exclaimed. "How are you? How's life?"
Claudette laughed, her lip ring glinting in the morning sun. "You're looking at it," she said, waving her hands at the place. "Me and Mr. Murphy are chillin' right now." She waved at the older man when he looked up.
"Nice," Parker smiled.
"Who's your cute friend?" Claudette asked loudly.
"This is Kenny," Parker said.
Kenny pulled his gaze away from the wall of fame- cutouts and clippings from both local and state articles heralding locals. He had spotted Parker's sister's name in one from the Portsmouth Press about the dig site she was working on in Arizona.
"Hey," he said by way of greeting.
"Claudette the Coffee Slave, at your service," she said dryly. She adjusted the black and white polka-dotted scarf she was using as a headband and draped her arms across the counter. "What can I get you crazy cats?"
Parker thought for a minute. "Mom wants dinner rolls, hopefully you're not out already-"
"We're not," Claudette replied, jotting it down on a pad of paper, "White or wheat?"
"Wheat," Parker replied, turning to Kenny. "Thoughts on pastry?"
"Uhhhh…" Kenny stammered. "Whatever's fine with me, I'm easy."
Claudette grinned wickedly. "Oh yeah?" she purred. "I bet you tell all the girls that."
Kenny blanched.
"What about strudel? Or bear claws? Or lobster claws? Or cinnamon buns?" Parker pressed. Her eyes darted around the glass cases eagerly.
"I recommend the buns," Claudette offered. "They're nice and squishy." Her eyes gleamed.
Parker closed her eyes. "We run the race, and celebrate with… cinnamon buns and coffee. Mmmmm. Yes. I like this."
"6 cinnamon buns then," Claudette said. She shook open a box. "And I'll throw in an extra cup of icing for you, cos I know you're weird like that."
Kenny eyed Parker, a questioning frown on his face. "Um. What?"
Parker raised her eyebrows nonchalantly. "I like the sugar rush?"
Kenny nodded. "Weirdo."
Connie and Julie, having ditched Guy after a quick breakfast at Connie's favorite organic bakery, spent the afternoon watching chick flicks and baking pies for the next day.
Connie's father worked from home as a web designer and consultant, and had left the girls to their own devices since they arrived, emerging from his backyard office for meals and occasionally to sleep and shower.
This was one of those rare times- he was puttering around the kitchen, making another pot of coffee and looking around in wonder at the pies.
"Don't you think we have enough?" he asked, raking his hand through his thinning brown hair. "Isn't it just us?"
Connie sifted sugar into a bowl. "No," she said, "Aunt Diedre and Uncle Paul are coming with Denny, Lucas, and Amy, and so's Uncle Bruce and his new boyfriend."
Her father blinked. "Oh, that many?" His eyes settled on Julie, who was cracking eggs quietly. "And Juliet is staying?"
"Julie, Dad, Juuuulie," Connie corrected him. "Yes. She's staying."
"If that's still okay," Julie jumped in.
Mr. Moreau shook his head dazedly. "No, no, that's good. It's normal for girls Constance's age to have friends around." He scooped up his coffee and a piece of apple from the pile they'd made for their apple pie, and wandered back outside to the guesthouse-turned-office.
Connie made a face at her best friend. "Sorry, Juliet," she teased.
Julie nudged her with her shoulder. "It's okay with me, Constance," she fired back.
Connie checked a pie. "I promised Averman that I'd make him a chocolate cream pie for his Thanksgiving. Apparently his mom doesn't use the right pudding." She rolled her eyes.
Julie laughed. "Has it occurred to you that our boys are children?"
"Every single day," Connie said with a long-suffering sigh. She giggled suddenly. "Remember when Charlie was convinced that he was dying of swine flu, and all he had was the regular flu?"
Julie made a face. While they were at Eden Hall, there was one week where Charlie was as sick as a dog. He'd even gotten Adam to write out his last will and testament, and had requested that all of the Ducks say personal goodbyes to him. They were still mad at him for passing the flu to all of them.
"I hated him for that," Julie recalled. "Still do. I had a presentation in chemistry that I took a zero for because I was sick!"
"That brought your grade for the quarter down to what, an A instead of an A-plus?" Connie said.
The door opened again. Mr. Moreau stood in the doorway, looking like he forgot what he was after in the first place.
"Dad?" Connie said. "Hello?"
Recognition flickered behind his glasses. "Oh, hello, Constance. What's that you're making?"
"Pies, Dad," Connie said, turning to look at him.
"Oh, so early? Thanksgiving isn't for another month, isn't it?"
"Tomorrow. Thanksgiving is tomorrow."
He blinked. "It is?"
Connie nodded. "I have a turkey defrosting, and pies in the oven, and dishes sorted. Just remember to come into dinner at one o'clock tomorrow."
"One o'clock," he repeated, turning to go back outside. "Thank you, Constance." The door shut.
"Ai-yai-yai," she muttered under her breath. "Sorry about that. He gets weird around the holidays."
Julie looked serious. "Is it because of your mom?"
Connie shrugged. "She wasn't lying when she told him that all he did was work. It sucked when she left without saying goodbye to me."
Julie started cutting the apple slices into chunks. "You've never heard from her?"
Connie shook her head. "Never. That's why Averman's mom threw me my 16th birthday party, and why I got through driver's ed. Dad barely remembers to feed Sebastian, let alone what to do with a teenage daughter." She sighed. "The Ducks are my family, Jules. I wouldn't be in college without you guys."
"Aw," Julie said, setting down the knife and enveloping her best friend in a hug. "You would've figured out a way."
"Probably."
Text message from: Charlie Conway
To: Everyone Who Matters
Happy early Thanksgiving guys! Minnesota Ducks, meet at the diner at 10am. Evry1 else, miss u!
Sent from my iPhone
Dinner at the Banks residence was a stilted affair. Of course, there were all of the usual Thanksgiving items- Waldorf salad, prosciutto-wrapped scallops, potato gratin with porcini mushrooms and marscapone cheese, port roasted chestnuts and grapes, sautéed parsnips and carrots with honey and rosemary, swiss chard with smoked bacon and jalapeño vinegar, a beautiful roast turkey with an ancho-scallion rub, and chocolate soufflé for dessert. Wines were paired with each course. The table was immaculate.
Adam was miserable.
He knew that the other Ducks were probably enjoying themselves way more right now. He pictured Charlie's table. They purposefully ate Thanksgiving dinner around regular dinnertime so other people could drop in and hang out- Casey always loved having a ton of people around. She, Charlie, and Sissy (whose kids lived in California and didn't tend to show up around the holidays) would start eating, and then Goldberg would show up for those twice-baked stuffed potatoes that Adam would secretly kill for, and one by one, the rest of the Minnesota Ducks would come into the apartment and raid the pie selection Sissy brought until they got too rowdy and Casey sent them outside to play hockey.
His father's voice brought him out of his own head.
"Adam?"
"Sir?" he said politely, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "I'm sorry, could you repeat your question?"
John Banks stared hard at his son. Something was up. "I asked if you had found any prospective sweethearts at that school of yours," he said, spearing a carrot. "After all, your brother found Jenna at Duke."
Adam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "No, I'm afraid not," he said dryly, reaching for his wine. "At least, not that I've seen."
"Maybe if you spent less time around those friends of yours, people wouldn't be afraid to approach you!"
"Now, John, don't start tonight," Pamela Banks said from the other end of the dining table, sipping her wine. Her eyes shimmered with what Adam guessed was wine fog. "Our baby has only been there a couple of months!"
John Banks harrumphed. "All the more reason to find more suitable people to spend time with, if you ask me," he said.
"And no one did," Adam muttered into his napkin. Somehow, saying what he'd like to say to his father into his napkin made him feel better.
"What was that?"
Busted.
"Sorry?" Adam hoped playing dumb would deter him.
"You said something." John Banks looked irritated. "What was it?" No dice.
"I… I said that you're right," Adam took a gulp of his wine. "I should find a girl, shouldn't I?"
"See, John?" Pamela beamed at her younger son.
John's eyes narrowed at Adam, as if he knew what Adam had really said. "So," he boomed, "What do you like? Blonde? Brunette? Redhead? I have a couple of business contacts in the area- I can give them a call and have them scout out acceptable matches." He looked his son over. "Brunette," he decided, making a note in his Blackberry. "I have your email contact, so I can have the details sent to you when I get them."
"Uh… I don't really… I mean, I don't think that's really necessary, do you?" Adam asked desperately.
"And why not?" John looked over the rims of his glasses. "What's wrong with a little assistance? A mutual friend introduced your mother and me."
Pamela beamed again.
He put his phone down. "Are you saying you're too good to get help when you need it?"
"I'm not saying that it's not a good route," Adam tried to sound diplomatic. "I'd rather it happen a little more… naturally. You know, l-"
"Oh, John honey, our son's a romantic!" Pamela gushed. She reached her hand out to hold Adam's. "You were going to say love at first sight, destinies intertwined, weren't you, sweetheart?"
Adam could just hear Charlie's amused cackle. "Exactly."
John glowered from his end of the table. He barely acknowledged the lovely blonde German girl that his wife employed as a housekeeper as she set out chocolate soufflés.
Adam, on the other hand, looked up at her and gave her a polite smile.
She stopped, a chocolate soufflé halfway to his place. "Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed in accented English. "You wait right here, okay?" She scurried back into the kitchen before he could say anything.
John raised his eyebrows. "What's that about?"
The girl emerged from the kitchen, carrying a lone piece of lemon meringue pie on the Banks's fine china.
"Elsa, you are the best!" Adam grinned. He was rewarded with the girl's sweet smile.
"Thank you very much, Elsa," John barked. "You're dismissed." He barely waited until she had retreated before rounding on his son. "And what, might I ask, is wrong with the dessert your mother picked out for this meal?"
"Oh, honey, it's okay," Pamela shot her husband a warning look. "Whatever my baby wants is fine."
John glowered at his wife. "I want to know what is wrong with this beautiful soufflé, Pamela, and I intend to get an answer!" He leveled a fork at his son, who was busy eating his specially-prepared piece of pie quietly. "Adam? What's the problem?"
"The problem," Adam sighed, setting down his fork, "Is that I don't like chocolate." He leveled his father with a stare of his own. "I never have. Elsa emailed me last week and asked if there was something I'd like for dessert instead, because she knew that I don't like chocolate."
Pamela's head snapped up then, admiring her manicure forgotten. "She emailed you, honey?" she said in a strange voice. "Oh, that won't do, that won't do at all…"
"Impertinent, is what that is," John agreed.
"I'll have to talk to her," Pamela murmured.
Adam threw up his hands. "It's a piece of pie, for crying out loud!"
John's gaze hardened again. "It's always more than just a piece of pie, boy."
"I give up."
A/N: Hey guys! Part 2 of the Thanksgiving chapter is well underway, and should be posted soon! To everyone who has reviewed thus far… you rock. Seriously. Let me know if there's more of someone you want to see, or if you have any suggestions! Lots of love! Over and out! ~Flyinghawk