“Ooh, I’ve never been brave enough to cook a duck.”
My mom lit up. “Well, after tonight, you’ll be the duck queen. Come with me!”
Dad and I played a round of chess while waiting for dinner to be ready, both of us offering to stop the game and help in the kitchen. But as always, my mother waved us away and insisted we enjoy our game. I could hear her and Maren laughing in the kitchen and for just a moment, I felt like life couldn’t get much better.
“She’s a keeper, that one,” Dad said as he studied the board.
“Don’t distract me,” I joked as I moved my knight. It was rare for me to beat my dad at chess, but I was always up for the challenge. Once I’d moved my piece, I glanced in the kitchen and caught a glimpse of the two ladies drinking wine and swapping stories.
“Nothing but trouble going on in there,” Dad joked as he moved a pawn. “Seriously, son, we’re thrilled that you’ve found each other. She’s very special.”
“I know, Dad. She’s amazing.”
“Don’t let go of that one. They don’t make them like her anymore.”
“I hear you,” I said, looking into the kitchen once again and staring at the woman I adored. She must have felt my eyes on her, because she turned and returned my gaze, a serene smile on her face.
“Food’s ready,” she said, waving us into the kitchen.
“Yes, Burton, get your tush in here. It’s time to carve the duck.”
“Got it, boss.” He glanced down at our unfinished game. “Don’t touch the board.”
I lifted both hands up. “We both know who cheats at chess, Dad, and it’s not me.”
“You can’t prove a thing.”
“We’ll finish after dinner?”
“Yep,” he said with a confident grin and nod. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you, Petey. You know that, right? I already have the moves up here.” He tapped on his head.
“We’ll just see, Dad.” I shook my head and followed him into the kitchen. “It’s not over yet.”
He patted me on the back. His smile was vulnerable, delicate. “Thank God for that.”
“Maren, this pie is just exquisite. You have to give me the recipe,” my mom said before popping another bite of butterscotch pecan pie into her mouth.
“Of course,” Maren said, her cheeks blushing.
“Or you could just promise to bake it for us whenever we ask,” Dad said with a chuckle. “Pass me the whipped cream, please.”
“Burton,” my mom warned. I chuckled but passed him the canister anyway. “Peter!”
I shrugged. “It’s Christmas. Let the man have his whipped cream.”
“Your pie is already gone.” She narrowed her eyes at my dad, who winked in response before tipping his head back and squirting a large pillow of cream into his mouth.
“Burton! You know I hate when you do that.” Mom groaned, shaking her shoulders and sticking out her tongue in disgust. Just to mess with her, I grabbed the canister and joined my dad by squirting a generous amount of sweet whipped cream into my mouth. I smiled at my mom before gulping it down.
“Maren, please tell me you don’t do this too.”
Maren clenched her teeth and closed her eyes as she extended her arm. Laughing, I passed her the canister and she did the same as Dad and I. She swallowed the whipped cream and offered my mom a sheepish smile.
“Savages,” my mom said, moving like a shiver ran down her spine. The rest of us broke out into laughter before passing the canister around once again.
“You’re missing out, Mom,” I said, passing her the canister. “C’mon, just once. Please?”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Ugh, makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. No, I’ll start the dishes while you get this disgusting habit out of your systems.”
“All right, all right,” Dad said, pushing his chair back and grabbing dishes. “We’ve had our fun. And don’t you dare touch a dish, Val. You and Maren cooked this wonderful dinner. Petey and I will take care of the cleanup.”
My mom’s expression changed in an instant. She removed her apron and draped it over her chair. “That’s what I’m talking about. C’mon, Maren, let’s finish our coffee by the tree.”
“Happily,” Maren said, giving me a wink, grabbing her cup of coffee and following my mom.
Once Dad and I had scrubbed every greasy pan and put away all the dishes, we joined them in the living room, each with a cup of coffee in hand. As soon as we sat down, my mom walked to the tree and retrieved a box. She placed it in Maren’s lap. “Here, doll. This is from Burton and me.”
“Aww, you didn’t have to do that,” Maren said, smiling wide. “Should I open it now?”
“Of course,” Mom insisted. Maren opened the box and smiled as she pulled out a gorgeous red sweater. Maren’s favorite color.
“This is beautiful. Thank you so much.”
“There’s a gift receipt in case I got it wrong, but this just looked like you.”
“I love it. In fact, I’ll wear it tomorrow. Thank you.” She placed the sweater back in the box and walked to my mom, giving her a warm hug. She then turned and looked around the room, searching for my dad.
“Where is your father?” my mom asked, looking around the room as well. I shrugged.
“No idea.”
“Odd,” Mom said with a shrug. “So, tell me, Maren, what is your family doing while you’re here tonight?”
“Getting settled in and swimming with the kids at the hotel. My sister, Milly, is at my apartment baking for tomorrow. She prefers to do it alone. So this worked out perfectly.”
“Oh good. We didn’t want to keep you from them,” Mom said, taking a sip of coffee. “But we’re thrilled that we were able to do this with you.”
My dad emerged from the hallway, a small box in his hand.
“Ah, there you are, Burt. What is that?”
My dad walked to Maren, who was sitting on the couch. “It’s for Maren.”
“Oh,” my mom said, her eyes wide, and I shared her surprised expression. My dad wasn’t one to shop on his own for something; he usually asked one of us for help to buy presents for the other. Just two weeks ago, we’d visited three boutiques in Seattle to find my mom the perfect scarf and gloves.
“Thank you, Burton,” Maren said, looking at Mom and me, realizing how out of the ordinary this was. She carefully peeled away the wrapping paper and opened the box. She placed one hand on her heart as she peered into the small box. “Oh my goodness.”
“What is it, Mare?”
She picked up the small ornament. “It’s an angel.” Her voice cracked as she held the ornament by its dainty string. “Made of gold.”
“It’s engraved,” Dad said, a look of sheer pride on his face.
“For Maren, my guardian angel.” Tears formed in Maren’s eyes, and she jumped to her feet, diving into my dad’s arms. “Burton, this is… It’s the most beautiful gift I’ve ever received.”
Dad was choked up, and a tear fell down his cheek as he held on tightly to Maren. I glanced at Mom, who had tears running down her face, and I’d be lying if I said I kept a dry eye as I watched them hug. It was an emotional moment for us all.
“I’ll treasure this always, Burton. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, kiddo.”
“Wait, can I see that?” my mom said, reaching out. Maren obliged and brought it to her. My mom raised one eyebrow, and a sweet smile formed on her lips. She rose to her feet and walked to the tree as Maren took a seat next to me. Mom looked through the branches, all covered in ribbon, bubble lights, and ornaments, talking to herself softly as her hands wandered through the needles. “Where was it? Where did I see it?”
“Mom, what is it?”
“Aha,” she said, grabbing an identical ornament from a branch right in the center of the tree. “I thought I saw this earlier. You bought one for our tree, too, didn’t you?”
My dad nodded, looking slightly embarrassed as my mom crossed
the room and wrapped her arm around his waist, pulling him tight. Maren grasped my hand, and I squeezed it in return.
Mom took a deep breath and said with a decisive nod, “We are so blessed. So very blessed indeed.”
The next day, I was mentally preparing myself for Christmas Eve with Maren’s family. She had three sisters, two brothers-in-law, and several nieces and nephews—a sharp contrast from the intimate dinner we’d shared with my parents the night before.
I was eager to meet everyone and was hoping I would remember everyone’s names without too many mistakes. Maren had coached me a bit when telling me all about her family, but I was worried that the family resemblance would be so strong that I would struggle keeping everyone’s names straight. Maren wasn’t kidding when she’d told me they celebrated in the back room of her shop. It was the only space big enough to hold everyone comfortably. To surprise her, I’d set my alarm for 5:00 that morning and grabbed the spare key Lyra had given me. I went to the shop and got to work. Every pot was washed, every surface cleaned with disinfectant. I hung twinkle lights all around the space and set up all the tables and chairs. Whatever I could do to make her day easier, I did it.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” she said, glowing, when I arrived at the shop later that afternoon. “I walked in and almost dropped the ham.”
“Almost?” A sister walked up behind her. “She’s totally lying; we washed it in the sink.”
“The clean sink,” Maren corrected. “Peter, this is Melody. She’s the oldest. And the ham never touched the ground, I promise. She’s just being a pain in the ass.”
Melody was taller than Maren and was at least ten years older. But other than that, they looked almost exactly alike. “Great to meet you, Peter. Come in, come in. We all enjoyed your handiwork.”
“I just wanted to make the day a little easier.”
“Oh, you did. The food’s almost ready because we didn’t have to prep the room.”
“How can I ever thank you?” Maren wrapped her arms around my neck and gazed into my eyes. I kissed her softly on the lips.
“This is all I need.”
“Come on, I want you to meet everyone else.”
“Don’t be scared,” Melody said with a laugh. “We’re all pretty harmless.”
“Speak for yourself,” said another sister. Her expression was stony. “You must be the reason Maren never calls me anymore.”
“Milly, stop!” Maren scolded before rolling her eyes. “Milly’s a year older than me. We always shared a room growing up, so she has trouble letting go.”
“Whatever.” Milly waved Maren off. “I’m just protective is all. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” I said, extending my hand. She shook it, her eyes still suspicious as she looked me up and down.
“And this is Moira,” Maren said with pride as she pulled another sister away from the table of food. This sister was beautiful with long wavy hair, just like Maren. Her eyes were green and her expression warm. She had more freckles than any of the sisters.
“So great to meet you, Peter. Love what you did with the place,” she said with a wink before pulling me in for a hug. She smelled like butterscotch.
“It was no trouble. Just wanted to help out, and Maren wouldn’t let me help with the food.”
“There’s too many cooks as it is,” Milly said, walking away. Somehow I had a feeling I wouldn’t be winning her over anytime soon. Luckily, Moira and Melody were warm and welcoming.
“Moira, I wanted to thank you for the Super Bowl tickets. My friends and I are so excited.”
She shook her head and waved me away. “No problem. You’ll be stuck next to Bill’s friend, Steve, but he’s harmless. Just buy him a couple of beers and he’ll warm right up.”
“Regular beer, not that lite crap,” a deep voice said from behind me. I turned to see a man with deep-set eyes and a big smile. “You must be Peter. I’m Bill.”
“Bill, can’t thank you enough.” I shook his hand. “Opportunity of a lifetime.”
“It’s no problem. I’ve never really gotten into the game, so figured it’d be better for real fans to go. But Steve’s still pretty pissed at me for making him go alone. Hence the beer. Maybe a couple of hot dogs too.”
“Consider it done.”
Bill leaned in close. “Don’t let Milly get under your skin. She can smell fear.”
I swallowed hard, faking my best relaxed laugh as I caught Milly glaring at us from across the room. When our eyes met, she returned her attention to removing aluminum foil from steaming dishes.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, joining her at the long tables pushed together against the wall. On its surface were several dishes—potatoes, stuffing, corn casserole, sweet potatoes, every kind of comfort food you could imagine.
Milly said nothing but handed me a fistful of serving spoons. Carefully, I placed them in each dish she’d uncovered, following her lead as she continued to remove them.
“How’d you guys keep everything so hot?”
“Two of Maren’s neighbors let us use their ovens.”
“Nice.”
I felt a tug on my pants. I turned to see a little boy, dressed as Batman, who came up to my thighs.
“Hey there.”
“I’m Batman,” he whispered.
“That’s Lucas,” Milly said, cracking her first smile.
“No,” the little guy shook his head, “Batman.”
“Nice to meet you, Batman. I’m a big fan of your work,” I said, patting him on the head. Milly pursed her lips and shook her head.
“Don’t pat his head; he hates that.”
“Oh sorry. “ I held out my hand, and Lucas gave me a big high five before grabbing the ends of his cape and zooming away. “He’s a cutie. Is he yours?”
“No, Moira’s. I don’t have kids.”
“Do you want kids?” I asked casually, trying to keep her talking. I was determined to win her over by the end of the holiday.
“Do you?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
“Absolutely,” I replied, remembering Bill’s advice to not show any vulnerability.
“Good,” she said, looking me up and down. “Not too soon, though. There’s plenty of time.”
“Agreed.”
“I mean, you two just met. Pump the brakes, Peter.” Her laugh was sarcastic as she crumpled a ball of foil in her hands.
“You’re right, we’ve only known each other a few months, but I’m crazy about her.”
“Good.”
“And I’d never do anything to hurt her.”
Milly pursed her lips and looked away from me, clearing her throat. “Mm-hmm.”
“And I’m looking forward to getting to know you and the rest of the family.”
I could see a softening in her expression. She was letting me in. I decided to quit while I was ahead. I excused myself and crossed the room to where Maren was setting the table. She handed me a stack of napkins and I set them at each place.
“She’ll warm up,” Maren said. “She’s just overprotective, always has been. And I tell her the most…you know, about stuff in my life. Moira and Melody mostly hear the good; Milly gets it all.”
“Ah, I see.”
“She’s a lot like Lyra, though, so she’ll love you in the end. Just give her time.”
I took Maren’s hand in mine. “I’ll keep trying.”
“You’d better.”
“They loved you,” Maren said as we walked to my car. The air was bitter cold. I pulled my overcoat together at the neck, attempting to block myself from the wind. Guiding my tipsy girlfriend down the sidewalk, I could see her face turning pink from the unseasonably cold weather we were having in Seattle.
“It’s too cold, Maren; go back inside.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m fiiiiiine.” She hiccuped again, her words slightly slurred.
We reached my car, and I climbed in to start it. “Hop in, we can say good night properly.”
“Dirty bird,” she teased but climbed into the passenger seat. Her teal puffer coat helped her fill the seat. She plopped her arms in front of her, looking terribly uncomfortable.
“You’re all puffed up,” I joked, pressing down on her arms.
“I’m not messing around, man. This thing keeps me toasty warm. Once the heat kicks in, I’ll probably start panting like a retriever.” She giggled and then started panting like a dog, which then made her laugh some more. After a moment, she stopped, looked serious, and asked, “Okay, wait. You sure you’re okay to drive?”
“I only had one glass of wine.”
She hiccuped.
“You, on the other hand…”
“Moscato is my new BFF.” She enunciated each letter, dragging them out slowly.
“I noticed,” I said with a chuckle as I smoothed her bangs from her eyes. “How many did you have?”
“Glasses or bottles?” She giggled again. She relaxed into the seat and slumped over just a bit.
“Your nose is so cute right now. It’s all pink from the cold.”
“Your whole face is cute right now,” With one finger she tapped my nose, my chin, and each cheek.
“Boop, boop, boop, boop,” she narrated before cracking up and leaning back in the seat. “Peter.”
“Yeah?”
“Your dashboard is spinning.”
“Oh man, time to get you back inside.”
“No, don’t be ridiculous.” She sat up straight, attempting to sound sober. “I’m fiiiiine. I can hold my liquor better than any of those wimpy girls in there.”
“Your sisters?”
“Yep. Them.” She paused. “Do you like them? Please say you like them. It would kill me if you didn’t.”
“I love them.”
“Even Milly?”
“Especially Milly. I love how protective she is; it’s very sweet.”
I knew it was wrong, but I decided to take advantage of Maren’s tipsiness. “So, did you tell her about Cara?”
Melt With Me: A With Me In Seattle Universe Novel Page 15
