“Does Mitch know how good-looking Ben is?”
“No. They haven’t met.”
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “Is this getting complicated?”
“No.” I said firmly. I heard a car beep in the drive, and turned to yell. ”Girls, Grandma’s here.”
I suddenly got choked up.
I had not seen Phyllis since before Brian left, and hearing the horn brought back twenty years of memories, most of them good. I loved Phyllis, not just because she’d been my mother-in-law, but because she was a warm, caring person who loved me and my daughters and had been very good to all of us. I suddenly ached to see her, so I ran to the door, threw it open, and swept Phyllis into my arms. She was shaking, crying a little, and we held each other for a long time, until she finally pulled away, wiping tears turned black from mascara.
“Oh, Mona, it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you. You look wonderful, and your hair! It’s so short! The girls told me, of course, put I couldn’t picture it.” She looked past me. “Miranda! Sweet girls, give me a kiss!” I watched, feeling a warm glow settle over me that was dashed by a cold voice in my left ear.
“Hello, Mona.”
I turned. It was MarshaTheBitch.
My other sister-in-law is short, like Phyllis, curvy, with light brown hair and blue eyes, also like Phyllis. MarshaTheBitch wears her hair is a very short, curly perm and is always perfectly made up, just like Phyllis. But MarshaTheBitch wears an expression on her face that looks like she just got a whiff of something unpleasant, not a sneer, exactly, but a slight curling of the upper lip. She had that expression on her face now, only more so, because although I knew she was intensely relieved that her brother was finally going to be rid of me, we were still technically family, and she still really didn’t like me.
Which was fine, because I really didn’t like her either.
“Marsha, what a surprise. Really. Because you told me you wouldn’t be here.”
She looked aggrieved. “Mom had a migraine all day yesterday, and didn’t feel well enough to drive. I invited her to come to Frank’s folks, but she insisted on coming here instead. So I sent Frank off with the kids, and agreed to bring her here. I hope you have enough food.”
Perfect. My least favorite person in the world would be spending the day in my house. Not only would I have to be nice to her for the sake of the kids, but I’d have to be grateful that she’d brought Phyllis.
Phyllis tugged at my sleeve as MarshaTheBitch swept past. “I hope you don’t mind, Mona, but I really couldn’t drive, and if she hadn’t come, I would have had to eat at Frank’s family’s house, and I don’t think I could have stood it.”
Having met Frank’s parents on several occasions, I couldn’t blame her. They were just like him, only ten times worse: pompous, boring, and totally devoid of a sense of humor.
“Of course I don’t mind,” I said. “It’s worth it to have you here. Did you bring pie?”
She nodded and dived into the trunk of her car, bringing forth her specialty, the best pecan pie you’ll ever taste in your life.
We went back into the kitchen, which seemed very crowded, so I loudly suggested we take the brie and some wine into the living room. Everyone filed out quite nicely, but Anthony stayed behind, arranging more crackers on a dish. He looked up at me slyly.
“I’m sure Marsha will be quite interested to meet Ben,” he said.
I closed my eyes. He was right. She’d never leave him alone. She’d assume he was with me and pump him ceaselessly for information. I didn’t want to put him through all that. I wouldn’t want to put anyone through all that.
“Ben can be Patricia’s date,” I said, suddenly inspired.
“Does he know that?” Anthony asked.
“No, of course not. I just now thought it up.”
“Well, make sure you tell him,” Anthony said. “And you might want to let Patricia know.”
“Send her back here,” I hissed as he went towards the living room.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen and took deep, cleaning breaths. Lily wandered in.
“I heard a commotion. Is Phyllis here?”
“Yes, Aunt Lily. And Marsha is with her.”
Lily’s eyes went cold. “MarshaTheBitch is here?”
“Yes. Listen. I need a huge favor. We need to make her think that Ben is Patricia’s date. Otherwise, she’ll assume he’s with me and the entire day could get ugly.”
“Very ugly,” Lily murmured. “Not to worry dear, I can handle this.”
“Handle what?” Patricia asked, coming in and looking concerned.
“Patricia, when Ben gets here, can he be your date? Please?”
“MarshaTheBitch?” Patricia asked. She’s very quick on the uptake.
I nodded.
“Of course, Mona. Rather ridiculous, but I understand perfectly. What else can I do?”
“Get her drunk?”
Patricia beamed. “No problem.” She and Lily went out. I turned, grabbed the phone, and called Mitch’s cell phone.
He answered on the second ring.
“Mitch? Mona. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Are we playing the ‘Who’s Having A Worse Thanksgiving’ game?”
He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning to, but it sounds like fun. You first.”
“My sister-in-law Marsha showed up.”
“MarshaTheBitch?”
“Yep. Your turn.”
“Vicki’s new boyfriend is a twenty-six-year-old golf pro.”
“That must be comfortable.”
“Oh, yes. But I think you’re ahead right now.”
“Maybe. I’ll talk to you later.”
I took another deep breath, grabbed wine and some glasses, and strode into the living room.
Rebecca and Patricia had MarshaTheBitch surrounded on the couch. Anthony was making Phyllis laugh. Victor and Julian, the two relative outsiders, were apparently bonding over Fred, who was sitting between their two club chairs, getting his ears scratched and in obvious doggy heaven. Lily had taken over brie duty and was making the rounds. Pure holiday bliss.
“Wine?” I asked.
Victor waved, so I headed straight over.
“How are you guys doing?” I murmured as I poured.
“Julian is a witch,” Victor said excitedly. “He was just telling me all about it.”
“Are you sure it’s not warlock?” I said, puzzled. Julian rolled his eyes, so I left them.
I set the wine and remaining glasses down in front of the couch. MarshaTheBitch, holding a very full martini glass, looked annoyed.
“I’ve already got a drink, Mona,” she pointed out.
“True, Marsha, but there are other people in the room,” I reminded her, smiling. “Maybe someone else is thirsty.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “So, Mona, tell me what’s new in your life. Your hair looks great, by the way. Why didn’t you cut it years ago? You look much younger.”
“Brian liked my hair long,” I told her.
“Oh. Yes, he would. What else? We haven’t spoken in ages.”
How cute. She was being social. Probably for Phyllis’s sake.
“Ah, well.” I sat down across from her. “Actually, some good things have been happening. I’m going to teach an online class next year. Through the Gotham Writer’s Workshop. They approached me a few weeks ago, and we’re working out a class outline. I’ve never done any kind of teaching before. It should be a lot of fun and very rewarding.”
“That’s marvelous, Mona,” Phyllis said, coming over to perch on the arm of my chair. “I’ve always wanted a teacher in the family. Not that you’ll officially be the family anymore, but still. How nice.”
She was getting a little misty again, so I hurried along. “I’m also going to put my name up to be on the Board of Directors of the RWA. You know, the Romance Writers of America. It would be quite an honor to be elected, and a big responsibility.”
MarshaTheBitch puckered her lips. “Haven’t you been a member of that group for years? Why have you suddenly decided to become so involved? Are they running out of qualified people?”
I felt a burning behind my eyes. “Actually, it’s something I always wanted to become involved in, but Brian didn’t want me to spend all the time and energy needed to do a good job.”
Anthony was hovering. I could tell he had his back up. “Not only that, Mona may be going on an extensive tour with the new book,” he said. “Her editor loved it so much there were hardly any revisions. They’ll be releasing it next fall, and if they go with hardcover, Mona will be on the road, all the major cities, signings and everything. That’s something else that Brian never wanted her to do.”
MarshaTheBitch set her glass down on the coffee table. “Well, Mona, it seems that your career has taken quite an upturn since Brian left.” She sniffed.
There was a sudden silence. Phyllis cleared her throat. “Just what is the new book about, Mona?” she asked.
I looked steadily at MarshaTheBitch. “It’s about a woman who gets dumped by her husband and turns around and has a much better life without him,” I said loudly.
Phyllis blinked. “Oh.”
Patricia turned to MarshaTheBitch with a brilliant smile. “Another martini? I know I could use one.”
I followed Patricia into the kitchen. She put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a shake. “That woman means nothing to you anymore, Mona,” she said slowly. “Leave her to me and Lily. Really.”
I nodded. I checked the turkey. He, or she, was done, so I pulled out the pan and set it on the counter. I checked all the other pots and baking dishes. Everything seemed to be moving ahead. Patricia had mixed another pitcher of martinis.
“I’ll take one now,” I told her.
She tilted her head at me. “I know you deserve one, but are you sure?”
I nodded. “The bird is cooked and everything else looks good. Even if I pass out, dinner will be a success.”
She nodded, found a glass, and poured. The first sip hit me like it always did. When I got to the third, I was in heaven.
There was a knock on the door. Patricia went to answer it.
“Ben, thank God,” she said. “I need to explain something for just a sec.” She closed the door behind her.
The fourth sip was not so much a sip as a long gulp. I closed my eyes to savor the moment.
“Mona?”
It was Rebecca. I opened my eyes and she was looking concerned. “Are you okay? Marsha is impossible. I’m sorry.”
I smiled. “I’m fine. Honestly.”
She was looking at the pitcher of martinis. “I’ve always wanted to try one of these,” she said.
“Well, you can’t get much better than Patricia’s. You’re not driving, are you?”
Rebecca shook her head. I poured her a glass, adding olives. She took a taste, and her eyes opened wide.
“Oh, my goodness,” she said.
“I know.”
Patricia came back in, carrying a pumpkin pie in front of her like Donna Reed. “Ben made this himself, isn’t he marvelous? He’s bringing in the wine. We’re all set. Rebecca, I don’t know what you’ve heard about Ben, but for today he’s my date, so keep your hands to yourself.” She set the pie down and turned towards the den. “I’ll let the girls know what’s going on.”
Then Ben came in, two bottles of wine in each arm. The cold had brought high color to his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled. He was wearing a black vee-neck sweater and black corduroy pants. I felt a momentary rush of blood to my head.
She was caught up in the heat of his hands and the sweetness of his lips. She reached blindly, tugging at the linen of his shirt, hungry for the feel of his skin against hers, and his lips moved down her throat, searing her silken skin like a brand.
“Rebecca, this is Ben Cutler. Ben, this is my sister-in-law, Rebecca Berman.”
Ben put down the bottles and shook her hand. “Are you Glinda?” he asked.
Rebecca giggled. “You’ve been listening to Anthony, haven’t you?” she gushed.
He chuckled and turned to me. “Hello, Mona. Thanks again so much for asking me here today. Do you really want me to pretend to be Patricia’s date? Isn’t that a little extreme?”
“Wait until you meet my sister,” Rebecca said. “Then you’ll understand.”
Ben smiled. “Mona, for you, anything.” Then he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.
Now, my imaginary kisses with Ben usually involved lots of skin and plenty of tongue, but it was still pretty special. Patricia came in, slipped her hand through his arm, and made a silly face.
“I can’t believe you, Ben. I turn my back for one minute and you’re flirting with the hostess. Come on through, I’ll introduce you.” She snagged the pitcher with the other hand and was gone.
Rebecca and I drank thoughtfully for a few moments.
“Well, he certainly is spectacular,” she said at last.
“Yes, he is.”
“I don’t suppose he’s a conceited prick?”
I shook my head. “No, he’s very nice. Thoughtful. I can really talk to him, but not for too long.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“My imagination starts to get the best of me and I start having concentration issues.”
“Yes. Well I can see that happening. Patricia is a very good friend to put herself out like that. She’ll probably have to be hanging on to him all day.”
“She’s a real gem. I’m lucky to have her.” I reached over and patted Rebecca’s hand. “And I’m glad we’re still friends. I’ve missed you.”
“Yes. I’ve missed you too. In fact, I don’t know why I’ve stayed away so long. I’ve always liked you much better than I liked Brian.”
Rebecca picked up her glass and wandered towards the living room. I yelled for Lauren. She came out of the den, her eyes glazed over from too many parades.
“I know you’re still not speaking to me, but it’s turkey watch time. You get the first shift.”
She groaned. “Mom, come on. Why do we have to guard the stupid turkey?”
“Every year we watch A Christmas Story. Last year you saw it six times.”
“So?”
“So, you know what happened to the turkey. When the mother set it on the table to cool?”
“Mom, do you really think a pack of animals is going to break into the house and eat the turkey?”
“We don’t need a breakin. We have a pack of animals that live here.”
She shrugged. “Okay. Mom?”
“Yes?”