138:The Good Life

“Happy Thanksgivin’.” 

Charlie looked up from the salad vegetables that she was washing to smile at the woman sliding a flat box of pies onto the counter by the windows.  The sun shone high in the New Jersey sky, bouncing across the smattering of freckles on Lilah’s face as she removed the foil covered pans from their carrier.  

It was good to see her after almost two weeks.  They’d talked a couple of times since the end of the Disney trip, but hadn’t seen one another after Nana was returned safely home.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she returned as Jon’s sister-in-law slipped up beside her for a one-armed hug before moving to set the box on its end by the back door. 

“Jon let us in, and I’m just gonna say right now that he looks happier ‘n dog in dirt.  I swear to goodness, it makes me wanna pinch his cheeks when he smiles that big.  You’re so good for him.”  Propping both fists on her hips, she tipped a sassy chin in Charlie’s direction.  “Now how are you doin’?”

Wrinkling her nose with amusement at the vocabulary that was just as colorful as the orange leggings and short swing dress Lilah wore under her bright yellow cardigan, she went with the Kentucky flow.  “Dog in dirt pretty much covers it.  How about you?  Oh.  My God.  Is that a turkey on your dress?”

“Well, duh.”  Both arms were held to the side so that Charlie could clearly distinguish those bright colors as tail feathers, big white eyes and a beak.  “It’s Thanksgivin’.  When else am I gonna wear it?”

“Uh… Never?”

Lilah’s loud belly laugh echoed off the domed brick ceiling overhead and filled the kitchen with its richness.  “Girl, you fit right in with those Bongiovi men.   Soon enough you’ll do what they do and pretend not to see my foolishness.  Tony drew the line at my turkey hat though.  Said that seein’ my head stuck up a bird’s ass wasn’t festive for anybody.  I had to concede the point and leave the hat at home.”

Laughing so hard that tears were rolling down her face, Charlie turned off the faucet and used her wrist to wipe them away while catching her breath.  “Oh, sweet Mary, Mother of God!  You are undeniably the craziest person I know.”

“That’s only ‘cause Owen’s dead,” came the droll drawl, along with the shrug of one shoulder.  “Speakin’ of which, did you dispose of his remains yet?  How are the boys?  Still quarrelin’?”

That was enough to chase off the laughter, and Charlie shook the colander to remove excess water from the lettuce, carrots and radishes. 

Things between the boys were much, and that was frankly due to Owen’s life insurance money.  It had gone a long way in smoothing that situation over.   She’d quite honestly forgotten there was a policy on him until the insurance company contacted her to ask about wiring the funds, but it was providing a million reasons for her sons to get along. 

With a million dollars in a separate account that she was designating for their sole use – as long as they got along – both now had the option of going back to Stanford or anywhere else next semester.  Who knew what the final outcome would be, but so far, it looked like they were still planning to stay close to home.

“We’re making progress.  Noah isn’t tormenting Caleb and, I suspect because of Jon, Caleb doesn’t seem to hate me quite as much.  Over the weekend, he chose his father’s final resting spot along with the headstone, and I went with him to the cemetery yesterday.  Obviously, the headstone hasn’t been placed this soon, so he’ll follow up on it over Christmas break.  Noah doesn’t even want to know where it is.”

“Mm.”  Naturally tinted lips drooped at the corners.  “It’s tacky to speak ill of the dead, but he’s still a dickweed.  I hope Caleb finds his peace, though.  Are they here?”

“Not yet.”  The colander came to rest in the bottom of the sink, and Charlie plucked out a couple of radishes to run over the slicer.  “They and Jesse stayed in Brooklyn and went to the parade with some of my family, but I got a text that they were picking up Sydney an hour ago.  I’m expecting them any time now.”

“The younger boys are, though?”

She swatted at the French-manicured fingers snitching radish slices, but Lilah just smiled as she chewed.  “Yes.  Jake, Romeo and Stephanie spent the night with us.  Where are your two, since we’re doing roll call?”

“Daddy’s helpin’ ‘em find Nana.”

Knowing that the little dog was snoozing peacefully the specially purchased “Jersey condo” in the master bedroom, Charlie scooped up another handful of radishes. 

She thought Jon was starting to spoil the dog, but he swore it was so they didn’t have to “haul the goddamn kennel” every time they wanted to spend the night in New Jersey.  He still hadn’t offered an excuse for the plush turkey squeaky toy, tennis ball or assortment of flavored rawhide bones that were waiting in a basket next to the “goddamn kennel”. 

“Counselor.”  They must’ve unwittingly summoned the man of the house, because he padded into the kitchen looking perplexed.  Sidling up next to her at the sink, he inquired, “Where’s the frisbee I got for Nana?”

Rolling her eyes even as she appreciated the palm he settled at her back while waiting for an answer, Charlie asked dryly.  “The one that’s too big for her to carry?  I put it in my top dresser drawer.”

“She can’t play with it there,” he observed logically, bussing a kiss over her cheek and speaking to Lilah on his way out of the room.  “Nice dress, Kentucky.  Happy Thanksgiving and hide the suckerpoodles for me, would ya?”

Lilah’s smile was wide and dazzling, and sunlit eyes danced with mirth.  “Happy Turkey Day, honey.  It’s already done.”

With an acknowledging wave of his hand, Jon disappeared out the door and around the corner. 

“What the hell is a suckerpoodle?”

Giggling as she watched Charlie continue to massacre vegetables into paper-thin slices, she explained.  “Snickerdoodles.  It was the only reason he’d tolerate me at family gatherin’s in the beginnin’.  He loved my cookies, but bein’ the belligerent ass he is, Jon pretends not to remember what they’re called.  Got stuck on ‘suckerpoodles’ for some damn reason.”

Cookies.  Christ on a crutch.  She was going to have to learn to bake, too?  Or…  Lilah was a stay-at-home mom.  Maybe Charlie could just contract a weekly supply, because she’d be doing well to get an edible meal on the table.  Screw baking.

“We’ll need to talk about that more later,” she declared, pulling a huge salad bowl close to tear leaf lettuce into it at the same time Luke wandered in with a bottle of wine in hand. 

“Gobble, gobble.”  Using two bottles of wine to emulate turkey wings, he “flew” into the kitchen with a wink at Lilah before plunking a red and a rosè on the counter beside the salald-in-progress.  “How are you two beautiful ladies doing on this heartfelt holiday?”

The two beautiful ladies exchanged a glance and adopted identical smirks.

“Somebody got laid last night,” Charlie drawled, secretly delighted that Luke and Lucy were still getting along well.  He was a good guy more often than an ass and deserved better than what his ex-wife had done.  .  “Give the wine to Jon.  That’s his responsibility, along with showing his boys how to deep fry a turkey in the yard.  I’ve got a caterer on standby just in case something goes wrong.”

Her brother wasn’t daunted by her skepticism, though.  Brown eyes went wide with interest and he hooked fingers around the necks of both wine bottles.  “Deep fry?  Which way is the side yard?”

Pointing to the door and laughing, she qualified her answer by saying, “He went upstairs a few minutes ago but is probably in the family room now.  Tell him the turkey is smoking, would you?”

Lilah’s head whipped around to peer through the French door, but there was nothing to see because Charlie had fabricated the smoking turkey to get Jon back in the kitchen.  She was actually more smitten with him now than in the beginning and knowing that he could be summoned at a moment’s notice anytime she wanted to see him hadn’t gotten old yet. 

Unlike Lilah, Luke hadn’t sought proof but hauled ass to find the head of the house. 

“Have I told you how much I’m gonna enjoy havin’ you in this family?”

Grinning at Lilah’s quietly chuckled question, Charlie covered the salad with plastic wrap and began tidying up the area.  She’d never know what prompted the overt honesty in her reply.  “No, but it can’t be as much as I’m going to enjoy being here – even if my boyfriend complimented your dress and has no idea what I’m wearing.”

The complaint was a light one that carried no weight.  When it mattered to her that he noticed clothes, he did, and today’s jeans and a soft chocolate sweater weren’t meant to wow.  It was just funny he’d noticed the turkey dress and sounded sincere in his approval of it. 

“That’s only because of you,” came Lilah’s derisive snort.  “He’s playin’ nice because you make him happy.  I see you’re still stuck on that boyfriend thing, though, huh?”

What was with everyone’s fixation about her marital status?

“You prefer I use the term ‘lover’?”

That tongue-in-cheek question earned her another snort and shake of the head.  “I pray for you all the time, askin’ the Lord to get you past this.   Don’t tell him I said this, but even though Jon’s a contrary ass on occasion, he’s one of the best men I know.  He won’t do you dirty.”

“Talk about your fuckin’ back-handed compliments.”  They both jumped at the statement that coincided with Jon’s sudden presence in the room as he strode toward the door with a sideways glance at them.  “Remind me not to let you near the PR people, Kentucky.  And my turkey isn’t smoking.   Was that supposed to be funny?”

“I won’t be goin’ anywhere near PR folks.  Lyin’ sacks of crap, the lot of them.”

As Jon flipped his sister-in-law a middle finger, Charlie hung the kitchen towel on its rack and skirted the island to join him by the door.  She slid both arms around his waist, looking up into suspicious eyes and smiling demurely. 

Lilah was right about him being a good man – and a contrary ass, but he needed that side to him.  His kindness, generosity, good looks, talent, ambition and love for family would piss everybody off if he didn’t temper it with some imperfections. 

If he was perfect, she would… Well, she’d hate him.

Charlie loved the man he was, even when they were screaming at one another.  It was simply another outlet for his passion for life and everything in it.  How could she hate that, especially when it was directed at her?

“Your turkey isn’t smoking,” she admitted with a kiss to his chin.  “I just needed to tell you something.”

The suspicion didn’t wane from brilliant blue irises.  If anything, it multiplied under the cynically arched eyebrow that put creases in his forehead.  “What?”

“That I’m thankful for you.  Today and every day.”

“Awwww!”  Charlie caught a glimpse of Lilah clasping both hands to her heart.  “I swear to goodness, you two are so much in love it makes my heart hurt.”

“This is not a fuckin’ romance novel.”  Jon’s denial was growled without averting his gaze from Charlie’s.  “It’s real life.  It just happens to be a good goddamn life.”

Ladies and gentlemen, there’s the Thanksgiving version of Jon Bon Jovi’s artistic soul, tied with a crude motherfucker bow.