His Firm Hand (16 page)

Chapter Seventeen

“Put the orange gourd in the middle of the table and place the dried corn husks off to the side. Now, if we situate the candle right over here…” Paul gently took hold of Michele’s hand and guided it to the exact point.

“This has been fun, daddy, and I’m giving you an A plus for coming up with the centerpiece idea. Now can we bring out all those chocolate turkeys we made?”

“Of course, princess. I’m so glad we decided to invite our close friends and family for dinner tonight, but just so we’re clear, let me remind you that it’s Thursday and by the rules of our household—”

“Do you really think we should play tonight? I’m worried my parents might catch on to how we live.”

Paul chuckled. “There will be nothing to fret over if daddy’s sassy girl behaves herself today.”

Michele picked up a wide chopping knife and pointed it at him. “There you go, talking in third person again.

“Be careful with that blade.” Pausing, he put a finger to the dimple in his chin. “Maybe it would be safer to use the Cuisinart instead, kitten.” Paul pulled the large turkey out of the refrigerator and began washing it in the sink. “Is this worry specific to our real life being discovered, or are you just generally nervous about seeing your dad?”

The silver knife glistened as Michele set it down on the gray granite countertop. “I’ve really been trying to come to grips with my teenage insecurities. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being a little apprehensive.”

“Just remember, your dad is a decent man and even though he doesn’t always show it, he loves you very much. I’m certain that your life will be much fuller with him in it.” Paul leaned over and kissed Michele on the forehead. “Now, if I could just get this bag of giblets out of the cavity,” he said, wrestling with the turkey.

“That’s a pretty big bird—do you know how long to cook it?” Michele nervously bit her fingernail as she peered over Paul’s shoulder.

“It’s a twenty-pounder, and if I get it in the oven before the next hour, it should be ready by six.” Paul looked over his shoulder to see what Michele was doing. “That is, if you could start working on the dressing, young lady,” he said with a gleam in his eye.

“Maybe you missed your calling and should have been a
real
chef. You certainly are bossy enough.”

“Me, bossy?”

Michele rolled her eyes and grinned as she opened the refrigerator. “Okay, I stand corrected. Obsessive/compulsive would be more accurate,” she said with a hand on her hip, staring at the dressing that was already prepared and chilling in a bowl.

* * *

“Michele, what are you doing up there?” Paul yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“Hold onto your pants—I’m almost ready, I just need to slip on my skirt.”

Paul impatiently stood at the bottom of the stairs with his arms crossed as Michele finally appeared at the top of the landing. “Do I look okay?”

“The black and red pleated skirt is adorable, but where’s the white cotton button-down shirt? You know how much I love you in that preppy look.”

“With my parents coming, I didn’t want to appear too young-looking. I thought the black turtleneck and tights would be a better fashion choice.”

“Wait, I think I heard a couple of car doors slam.” Paul looked out the front window. “Well, it seems our guests have all managed to arrive at the same time.”

Michele went to the front door, preemptively swung it open, and watched with amusement as their eight guests approached the house. Marianne was the first to enter and after giving Michele a kiss on her cheek, handed over a stack of pies to Paul. “We just met Dave, Marsha, and their kids, so no introductions are needed,” she advised. “Chuck, hurry up and get in here. We’re not trying to heat the outside!”

“Dad, let me take your jacket,” Michele politely offered.

Chuck wriggled out of his sleeves and as it slipped off, he turned around, beaming a toothy smile. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You’ve never looked more beautiful, Michele.”

“Thanks, dad.” As Michele turned away with blushed cheeks to hang Chuck’s jacket in their closet, he turned to Paul and gave him a warm handshake, pulling him closer. “Thanks for everything you’ve done,” he whispered with a simultaneous wink of the eye.

“It’s been my pleasure.” Paul winked in return.

“Someone’s going to win an Oscar nomination tonight, and I’m not sure if it will be you or dad,” Denise whispered to Michele before properly introducing her friend Glen to the cluster of family and friends.

With everyone still standing around, Paul directed the group to follow him into the kitchen. “Since we’re all family here, you can help yourselves to the beverage of your choice.”

“Are you kidding? I have to make my own vodka martini tonight?” Dave whined with a grin.

“I want a chardonnay,” Marsha squawked.

“Me too,” Marianne added.

“I’ll have a glass of pinot,” Denise chirped.

“Vodka martini sounds good to me, Dave.” Glen waved his hand.

“I could go for a beer,” Chuck said with a finger in the air.

“Okay, I get it, I’m the official bartender for the night.” Dave shook his head and chuckled cheerfully. “What are our hosts drinking?”

“I’ll join Chuck and have a beer!” Paul yelled above the rest of the conversation.

“Just a Diet Coke for me and the other kids,” Michele said solemnly. “Daddy, this isn’t fair,” she whispered to Paul.

“What’s that, Michele?” Chuck responded, overhearing her comment.

“Oops, sorry… scratch that.”

Paul smiled at the small misdirected comment.

Michele responded to her husband with crossed eyes.

* * *

“Dinner is served!” Paul announced as he walked into the dining room with his perfectly prepared turkey. Michele followed closely behind with a tray full of mashed potatoes, yams, homemade cranberry sauce, and dressing.

“Everything looks wonderful,” Marianne said, cheerfully elbowing her husband.

“Does anyone want a refill on their cocktails, or is everyone having wine with dinner?” Dave inquired.

“I think I’ll switch to water. Michele, what about you?” Paul lifted an eyebrow in her direction.

“I guess I’ll have water, too,” Michele responded with a pouty face. “Daddy, are you going to carve the turkey? I think everyone is getting hungry.”

“Sure,” Paul and Chuck responded in unison.

Chuck gave Paul an odd look. “Wasn’t she talking to me?”

Denise, Marcia, and Dave all snickered.

“What in the hell is going on?” Glen asked Denise under his breath.

She promptly kicked his leg under the table. “Shush, I’ll explain later.”

“Of course, Michele was addressing you, Chuck. Please, would you do the honors?” Paul threw his wife a mortified glance.

Michele observed as Chuck carved the turkey, while Paul looked on through unblinking eyes. She couldn’t help but be amused with the scene as her obsessive husband watched someone else attend to
his
turkey and smiled as Dave poured wine in everyone’s glass. It was fun for her to have a bird’s-eye view of friends and family engaging in conversation, passing holiday dishes around the table.

Once everyone was served, Paul cleared his throat and tapped his fork onto the tall water glass. “I just wanted to say how good it is to be together. We should do this more often than once a year.”

Michele reached across the corner of the table and squeezed Paul’s hand. The rest of the table raised their glasses in agreement.

“Someday, we might even have some grandchildren around the table to enjoy,” Chuck blurted out.

“Please don’t start, Charles,” Marianne scoffed in a muffled tone.

“What? Did I say something wrong? I have two beautiful daughters, and all I’m saying is that it would be nice to have a couple of grandkids. Maybe I could make up for all the time I spent away from home.” He looked at Michele, obviously hoping for forgiveness.

The rest of the gathering put their heads down and continued eating.

Before long, the individual conversation resumed and well-deserved praises for the in-house chef were unanimously echoed. Chuck thoughtfully chewed a bite of his turkey, watching Michele.

“Dad, is it my imagination, or are you staring at me?” Michele asked.

“I don’t know, there’s something different about you. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He tilted his head. “You seem… younger. Marianne, what do you think?”

“She looks the same to me; it’s all in your head, dear.”

Chuck shrugged his shoulders before taking a forkful of dressing.

“Michele, I love the skirt you have on. Mom, don’t I have the same one in another color?” Kristin asked Marsha, who instantly smiled and nodded.

“I can’t remember. Is your bathroom at the top of the stairs?” Chuck innocently asked his daughter in a quiet tone.

“Why?” she answered with a look of terror in her eyes, wondering if Paul remembered to close the door to her playroom that was located next to the bathroom.

“Because I need to use it?” He turned and shot a confused look at Marianne.

“We have a small one on this floor. It’s much more convenient,” Paul added as he rose out of his chair to point Chuck in the desired direction.

Dave raised his glass. “Here’s to owning more than one bathroom. We have three,” he slurred proudly.

Brenden shook his head. “Mom, I think dad started the evening with too many martinis.”

“Honey, you’re officially cut off.” Marsha grabbed Dave’s wine and quickly poured it into her glass.

Kristin raised an eyebrow at her mom. “I’ll do the driving home tonight.”

“Good idea, kiddo,” Dave mumbled.

Much to Michele’s delight, the rest of the evening’s exchange centered on shopping, work, retirement, and other mundane subject matter. Shortly after the coffee, pies, and chocolate-covered turkeys were inhaled, the energy among the group began to wane.

“Marianne, all I want to do is go home and unbuckle these pants.” Chuck patted his stomach in satisfaction.

“I think we might need to skip your Grand Marnier nightcap this evening,” Marsha said with a loving eye-roll as she edged Dave’s elbow off the table.

With that last comment, the rest of the group stood and made their way to the front door. When they were finally alone, Denise pulled Michele aside. “Daddy was actually pleasant to be around tonight. What got into him?”

“I’m not sure.” Michele threw an appreciative look in Paul’s direction. “But it looks like retirement is definitely agreeing with him.” Paul quickly nodded his head and flashed a Cheshire cat grin in recognition of her gratefulness.

“It’s like an early Christmas miracle,” Denise whispered, hugging both of them.

Michele and Paul stood in the doorframe and finally waved goodbye to everyone. “Drive safely!” Paul yelled out as he watched Dave hand his keys over to Kristin.

“Get a good night’s sleep, Michele Anne. We have a big day tomorrow,” Marsha called out, wagging her finger before getting into their car.

Paul closed the door behind them as they walked back into the house. “So, it sounds like you have a big shopping excursion planned with Marsha. Don’t you usually spend Black Friday with Denise?”

“She and Glen have to work long hours tomorrow. One of the pitfalls of retail.”

“Mmm. Black Friday sales or not, Christmas shopping with Marsha could cost me a fortune. Remember your little trip to Nordstrom on Halloween?” He shook his head and laughed. “Hey, I think everyone had a good time tonight,” he said, starting to collect the dessert plates from the table.

“Yep, and we only had two really close calls.” She moved closer to help remove the empty coffee mugs. “By the way, did you remember to close my playroom door?”

“Sorry,” Paul said in an apologetic tone. “I totally forgot. Good thing Chuck didn’t insist on going upstairs. I can only imagine the look on his face if he’d peeked into the room… it’s like a time warp in there.”

“It was definitely a risk having them here for dinner, but I’m glad we did it.” She exhaled a long breath. “I feel a little guilty that my parents are the only ones not aware of how we live. We were like a couple of teenagers sneaking around.”

Paul looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully before speaking. “We could always tell them, but do you want to risk it right now? You’re just starting to make progress in your relationship, and I’m not sure how they’d react.”

“I’m too exhausted to think anymore right now. Can we leave the dishes until tomorrow morning, daddy? I’m soooo tired.”

“Why don’t you go get your Sheepy-Time
pajamas on and get ready for bed? I’ll load as much as I can in the dishwasher and soak all the pots and pans for tomorrow.”

“I know this sounds so juvenile, but could you tell me a story tonight?”

“Of course, kiddo. Get yourself comfortable and I’ll be upstairs as soon as I can.”

* * *

Michele snuggled under the covers in her flannel jammies as she heard heavy footsteps ascending the stairs.

“Are you ready for your story, princess?” Paul asked, still dressed in his black button-down shirt and jeans as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Daddy, aren’t you going to put your sweatpants on and get comfortable?”

“I will, sweetie. But first, I want to tell my best girl a special Thanksgiving story.”

“Ooh, a holiday story. I hope it has a happy ending,” she said, slipping both hands under the covers to warm them.

Paul cleared his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a beautiful woman named Chellie.”

“Chellie? I haven’t been called that since I was a kid.”

Paul inclined his head toward hers. “Am I making up this story, or are you?”

“Sorry, daddy. Please continue.”

“Everyone thought Chellie was beautiful and told her so, but she just didn’t believe them.”

“Mmm. Sounds like a case of bad self-esteem, if you ask me,” Michele interrupted as she shifted in the bed.

“Perhaps, but her parents hoped that eventually she’d meet the man of her dreams and would become much happier and more secure in her life.”