Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.
This is the result of a Thanksgiving challenge between myself and Melchy. We each provided three words and one phrase, for a total of six words and two phrases, that had to be used. The words and phrases are in bold print in the story, which was to be 1,500 words or less.
A Family of Friends
"Hey, Pete! White meat or dark?"
The tall, good-looking PI paused in the task of hanging his woolen overcoat over the back of the nearest chair. Mother's was decidedly toasty compared to the chill he'd brought in with him. There was no fireplace in the old establishment, but the clunky radiators hidden in various dim corners emitted a cozy heat that was impossible to deny. If the afternoon had been cold and blustery, this evening had become downright freezing with a hint of impending snow.
Pete tossed his winter gloves onto the seat of the chair and then stood for a short moment, taking in the scene at the bar. Plates were impatiently waiting for the juicy turkey Barney had personally prepared despite Mother's instructions to "Just go over to Delmonico's and order one, for heaven's sake!" There was on old art deco tureen, graced with a design of brown and orange fall leaves, that obviously held gravy. The aroma of it had assaulted his senses the moment he stepped through the door. A casserole dish, hopefully containing Mother's famous sausage stuffing, sat to one side, and several dessert dishes occupied the space near the far wall. There looked to be whole sweet potatoes in a bowl that matched the tureen and big fluffy dinner rolls in a wicker basket. Was that pumpkin pie? And a fruit cake, too.
"Anything's fine with me, Barney."
He paused to give Mother a kiss on the cheek, leaning around the big cash register to do so. Barney, the erstwhile bartender, acknowledged his greeting and gave a sunny smile as he finished wiping down a wine glass and set it to the side with four others. Pete clapped the resident piano player, Emmett Ward, on the back and acknowledged him with a quiet "Hi, Emmett". Which brought him to Edie Hart. He sat himself down on the bar stool next to hers, his long fingers skimming the back of her neck as he did so. He received a saucy wink in response.
"It looks like there's enough to feed an army, doesn't it Pete?" Edie whispered in an aside to the PI.
"There's always room for seconds," he pointed out in a low voice. A smile tilted his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes as he flicked a finger at the haphazard ponytail that graced the back of her head. "Nice style. I like the casual look."
Edie slapped his hand away with a playful swat.
"Someone didn't wake me up before he went out," she whispered succinctly before continuing in a more moderate tone. "Then Mama called and kept me on the telephone for an hour and a half." Her lips trembled in sudden mirth. "And that was before she even gave Papa a chance to talk. You're lucky I got my hair combed at all!"
"Well, let's get this show on the road!" Mother's voice broke into their conversation. "You all know I'm not much for words – "
Emmett choked on a sip of apple cider.
"You hush," the older woman frowned. She pointed a warning glare to the small group, daring any of the others to interrupt.
Emmett had the grace to at least try to appear ashamed, but it was a stretch. Edie poked him in the ribs with her elbow and gave him a lighthearted frown.
"You also all know I was raised by my grandparents," Mother continued in a somewhat melancholy tone. Her rough countenance softened ever so slightly. Anyone not acquainted with her would most likely not have noticed the change in her expression. "We traveled all around New England while I was growing up, never settling down for any long period of time, always following what work Big Papa Alvin could find. Times were toughest right before the first war, but I was older then and could work to help support us..." A sudden mirthful smile lit her face. "Folks needed entertainment at a time like that and vaudeville provided it."
The woman took a moment to retrieve a bottle of burgundy wine from beneath the bar and a corkscrew from a drawer. She handed both to Pete. The PI raised an eyebrow at the vintage declared on the fancy label and then made quick work of the cork as Barney passed out long-stemmed glasses.
"Even as a small child I knew we were sometimes living hand to mouth. It was hard not to realize that." She watched as Barney very meticulously filled the glasses. "But we were together – we were family – and I was always thankful for that. And that's what this day is all about, being thankful for what we have and the people we're with." She raised her glass and allowed her gaze to slowly come to rest on those present, her eyes imparting an individual and particular message to each. She extended her glass. "Here's to families of every kind."
Arms reached, hands touched, crystal clinked.
The giant of a woman broke the sudden introspective silence, setting her drink aside and reaching to pull the foil covering from the turkey.
"Now that I've gotten all the maudlin talk out of the way – let's eat!"
Plates were passed.
Barney started with dessert. "I don't want to be so full of turkey that I miss out on pie."
Edie slathered butter on a sweet potato and sighed with delight at the flavor and texture. "This is even better than the yams Mama makes."
Emmett stared aghast at his serving of sausage stuffing. "What are these green bits? Please don't tell me you put spinach in the stuffing!"
Mother smiled delightedly. Then she smacked Emmett's hand with a long-handled bar spoon.
"Ouch!"
"Careful, Mother! Those are his playing fingers," Pete warned with a grin. He reached for a dinner roll, split it in half, placed dark meat on each piece, topped the meat with stuffing, spooned gravy over both and added a dollop of cranberry sauce. "Pop always made these the day after Thanksgiving. He called them his special contraption." The PI smiled at the memory. "Grandpa Luke always provided the turkey. He hunted it on a little piece of property that belonged to a friend of his. Then he and Pop and I would go up to the lake the day before to do some trout fishing. I learned everything I know about fly casting from those two. We'd have turkey and trout on the big day."
"We always had duck for Thanksgiving." Emmett reached for a well-browned drumstick. "My dad's boss at the furniture store gave one to all his employees. I didn't know what turkey tasted like until I had it at a diner in Providence, Rhode Island. The stuffing had bacon and oysters in it." He took a big bite of drumstick and chewed thoughtfully. "I remember throwing up all over Kevin Murphy's drum set in the back of the band bus. We had to stop by the side of the road. I sat behind a clump of trees barfing for half an hour. I think Kevin still holds it against me."
"Grandma and Grandpa Kelly had a cornucopia that they put out during Thanksgiving week every year. They kept it filled with fruit for snacking." Edie rook a sip from her wine glass. "When my brother Jeff was twelve..." her forehead knit in thought, "...maybe thirteen, he snuck into their house and exchanged all the fresh fruit for wax fruit he found in Grandma Hart's attic. You couldn't tell the difference just by looking." Her laugh was musical. "Uncle Charlie came into the kitchen the next morning with a hand over his mouth. He said to Grandma Kelly, 'You need to have a talk with old Mr. Munch at the grocery store. These peaches are hard as a rock!' He took his hand away and one of his front teeth was missing." The others joined in her laughter.
"Our Thanksgivings were always quiet affairs," Barney chimed in. "My parents, my brothers and a few friends. My parents are gone and Clyde and Georgie both moved to California for some odd reason. Something about sunshine and excitement. So this is my kind of celebration." His mouth widened in a smile beneath his tiny mustache. "Maybe not friends and family – but friends that are family..."
~ The End ~