Restoration: A Novel (Contemporary / Women's Fiction) (18 page)

“I like your makeup.”

Looking hurt, Cassie released her sister’s arm.  “Liar.”

Brad wandered over to Cassie, put his arms around his wife
and nuzzled his nose into her hair, whispering something.  She cast a loving
gaze at her husband and nodded yes to whatever question or proposition he’d
shared with her.  He used his hand to smooth his bangs forward, a habit he’d
developed since the blond hair he’d once combed back had started thinning in
the front.

Cassie tugged at his belt loop.  “Let’s go and enjoy food
and family.”

“How about the other F?”

“Football?”  She winked.

“Sure.”  He smiled playfully.  “You can call it that.”

“I’ll have to ask permission from my father.  It’s his
house, you know.”

Tess walked away before they commented on her blush.

The dining room table looked as if it had been set up for
a Thanksgiving photo shoot for a magazine.  A burnt orange cloth covered the
table that displayed turkey, breads, yams, potatoes, green beans, casseroles
and cranberries.  In the middle of the table, a silver candelabrum balanced six
green candles.

Hillary stood at the head of table with her husband as the
family filed in.  She was as dressed up as the table.  Jewelry accented her
body, with rings adorning the fingers of both hands and multiple bracelets
dangling from each wrist.  She wore a fashionably short skirt that many women
wore but one Tess thought was too short for her stepmother.  Her hair was
stylishly short and without a single dark root peeking from her scalp to betray
her bottle-blonde hair.

They took their regular seats: Glen at one end, his son at
the other, Brad and Cassie on one side, and Tess across from them, next to her
father.  Hillary took the empty seat between Tess and Brice.  After their
mother had left, Tess had assumed the seat near her father, never offering it
to Hillary.

“This looks great, Mom.  You outdid yourself this year.” 
Brice leaned over and kissed his stepmother.

Hillary, she wanted to remind her brother, her name is
Hillary.

“Who’d like to say grace?”  Glen asked.

Tess folded her hands, bowed her head and waited for
someone else to volunteer. 

“I’ll say it,” Brice volunteered.

“This is serious,” Cassie said with a groan.

“I can be serious.”

“Go ahead, son,” Glen said.

Brice led them in a simple blessing.  He was humble and
sincere, but after saying “amen” he looked up and flashed a cocky smirk at his
sisters.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Cassie said.

“Dad, you must be so proud,” Tess added.

“All right, all right,” Glen said, laughing.  “Let’s not
blaspheme the moment.”

Tess gave her father a confused look.  “Didn’t we
already?”

Cassie’s husband cleared his throat and jumped into the
family fray.  “Tess is right.  I was feeling prickly heat on my neck.  We were
a mere moment away from a heavenly bolt of lightning cooking this meal to well
done.”

“Mom!”  Brice looked at Hillary for help.

Hillary smiled at him.  “They’re just jealous of your
diverse talents.”

“Yeah, green with envy.”  Tess rolled her eyes.  “The
first thing I’m doing when I get home is practice my beer funnels.”

Glen looked over the candelabrum at Brice, grinning. 
“They’re still doing those?  I thought they might’ve gone out of fashion since
I graduated.”

“Dad!  You’re a real dude.  Listen to you rock.”  Brice
stuck his thumbs up.  “Funnel men, we Olsens are.  Like father, like son.”

“Oh, brother.  Male bonding at its worst.”  Tess picked up
her fork and tried suppressing a smile that would only encourage her brother. 
“Can we eat before I lose my appetite?”

“Wait, wait.”  Cassie raised her arms, waving her hands. 
“Brad and I would like to start one more Thanksgiving tradition.”

“Traditions?”  The surprise piped through Tess’s words. 
“Do we have any besides our once a year grace?”

Cassie leaned forward in her chair, looked past the
candelabrum at Tess and asked, “Where’ve you been all these years?  Who have I
been playing backgammon with every Thanksgiving since we were kids?”

“Don’t forget football,” Brice chimed in.

Cassie picked up an empty wineglass.  “Grape juice that
over the years became Chardonnay.  Bing Crosby in the family room after
dinner.”

“We did the grape juice with Mom,” Tess reminded her.

“Jesus,” Cassie sat back hard in her chair.  “Can’t you
give this group of people right here any credit for being a family?”

Brad reached into Cassie’s lap, took her hand and looked
around the table.  “The tradition we’d like to start is for everyone here to
share what they’re thankful for.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Tess noticed her brother
settling into his chair like a deflating balloon.  Another serious moment was
pending for him.

“After all, it is Thanksgiving,” Cassie added.

Hillary looked at her husband.  “That sounds nice, dear,
doesn’t it?”

“I think we have enough tradition,” Brice said.  “The one
I like best of all is when we eat the traditional turkey.  I get so choked up.”

Tess opened her mouth to agree with Brice but caught
Cassie’s pleading look from across the table, lobbying Tess for support.

 “I think we can do this,” she said with a sigh and cast
the vote she owed her sister for pulling the crap she just had that no one else
called her on.

“You’ve been outvoted,” Cassie said to Brice.  “Loser gets
to start.”

“This is your deal.  You go first and show us how it’s
done.”

“Come on, frat boy,” Tess said.  “You’ve been wowing us
all day with your tricks.  You start.”

“Yes,” Cassie said.  “We’ll go clockwise.”

“No fair!”  Brice shook his head.  “You can’t go last when
it’s your idea.”

“Brice, you’ve so much to be thankful for,” Hillary said.

“All right, I give up.”  Brice surrendered with his hands
up.  “When the crowd begs for an encore, the master can’t deny his fans.”  He
leaned his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. 

“The turkey’s getting cold,” Tess commented.

“Don’t rush me.  All right, I have something.”  Brice
looked around the table at his audience.  “I’m thankful I’m passing calculus.”

 “Me, too!”  Glen said.

“I’m not done.”  Brice raised his hands in an exaggerated
motion.  “I’m on a roll.  I’m also thankful for the redhead who sits in front
of me in calculus, the one who inspires me to be in every class, especially
when she stands up and slowly walks away.  I’m thankful for the impressive
view.”

“I’m moved,” Cassie said.  “I can’t wait until you bring
home the woman of your dreams and I can embarrass the hell out of you.”

“My turn.  I’m thankful that this family is once again
together.”  Hillary went around the table, offering each of them a personal
smile.  “Your father and I look forward to this every year.  As Glen likes to
say, you’ve all flown the coop but at least you all know your way back to the
nest.  We don’t see enough of any of you.  We’re so very grateful for the time
we do share.”

“That’s nice, Hillary.  Thank you.  You’re next,” Cassie
prompted Tess.

“How can I top that?”  She didn’t dare utter that she was
most thankful for the governor’s signing of Wright’s death warrant.  These
days, she felt thankful for little else.  She looped her finger through her
gold chain, finding the charm on it.  Lately, she’d assumed the habit of
touching the gold palette while thinking.

“Tess, the turkey,” Brice urged.

The paintbrush on the charm poked her fingertip.  She
tucked her chin against her chest and looked at the charm.  It made her smile,
reminding her of the other thing in her life for which she was grateful.

“I’m thankful for Francesca.”

She expected to hear her father take his turn next.  As
silence lingered, she looked up and around the table at the expectant stares of
her family as they waited for an explanation to her statement of thanks.  She
returned her father’s stare and nodded to him.

“You through?”  he asked.

“Yes.”

“All right.”  He sat up taller and held up his hands. 
“I’m thankful these hands are still gifted.  I’m thankful I can share this gift
and that because of it there are other fathers enjoying their children as much
as I am on this Thanksgiving Day.”

“And I’m sure many families are giving thanks for you this
day.”  Hillary smiled at her husband.

“Too many to count.”  Cassie smiled at her father, then
grabbed her husband’s hand and squeezed it.  “Our turn.”

“No fair,” Brice said.  “We all went through this
gut-wrenching exercise of baring our souls alone.  You can’t piggyback on each
other’s thanks.”

Cassie said, “Next year we’ll go separately, but this year
we’re full partners in thanks.”

“We’re going to have to do this again next year?”  Brice
cringed.

Brad’s gazed shifted around the table.  “Cassie and I are
very thankful that this time next year we’ll be setting another place at this
table.”

“We’re going to be parents,” Cassie continued.  “I’m
pregnant.”

“Oh my,” Hillary gasped, jumped up, hurried to Cassie’s
side and threw her arms around her stepdaughter.

“Touchdown, Brad!”  Brice jumped up and raised both arms
in the air, then gave Brad a high five.

Tess saw her father’s eyes brimming with tears as he stood
to first shake Brad’s hand and then pulled his son-in-law into a quick
embrace. 

“Dad,” Cassie looked up when her father’s hand rested on
her shoulder. 

“Congratulations, sweetheart.”

When everyone settled back into their seats, Cassie looked
across the table at Tess.  “Well, little sister, you’re going to be an aunt. 
What do you think?”

She hadn’t moved from her seat, hadn’t offered any
congratulations.  “Wow” was all Tess could muster, without a hint of
exuberance.

“So, have you decided on a theme for the nursery?” 
Hillary asked.

As the expectant parents took them through a verbal tour
of the colors and themes they were considering, platters of food were passed
around the table.  Questions from the future grandparents lined up like planes
on a tarmac: breast or bottle, day care or home care, new house or remodel the
existing one.  Each question begged an explanation beyond yes or no.  Brad and
Cassie’s plates brimmed with food while they answered the questions as everyone
else whittled away at their meals.

“Someone else talk.”  Cassie slipped a forkful of stuffing
into her mouth before Hillary could ask her another question.

“Babies’ heads are pretty big.  I bet they’re even looking
bigger to you now, huh, Cass?”  Brice said.  “Are you going to take drugs when
the time comes?”

“We’ll let you see for yourself,” Brad said.  “We’re going
to videotape the birth.”

Brice squirmed.  “Oh man, that’s one movie I don’t want to
see.”

“Just think of it as an action film.”

“That’s gore I don’t want to see,” Brice said with a
shudder.  “If I can’t keep down my popcorn while watching it, that’s a film I
don’t want to be seeing.  It gets a G rating for gross.”

“I’ll share something,” Tess said abruptly.  “It’s not
nearly as big as Cassie and Brad’s announcement.”

“You’re having puppies?”

She ignored her brother.  “There’s a possibility I might
move to Florence.  I’m not sure when or if, but there’s a chance Mazzaro’s will
relocate me there.”

“Florence?”  Glen put down his silverware and stared at
his daughter.  “You don’t mean Florence, Italy, do you?”

“Yes.”

“Tess, it’s bad enough you’re so far away living in New
York.  But Florence?  It’s across the ocean.”

“It would be a great opportunity.”

“New York is a big city.  I’m sure it’s jam-packed with
opportunity.  What’s wrong with finding some there?”

“It would be an opportunity of a lifetime.  Look, it’s not
even a done deal yet, but I didn’t want to spring it on you if or when it
happens.  I thought you might be excited for me.”

“I’m sorry.”  Her father shook his head.  “I can’t get
excited.  It’s too far away.”

“It’s a plane ride away.”

Tess felt a hand on her knee.  It was Hillary.  Her
stepmother gave her a comforting squeeze. 

“It looks like we’re finished here.”  Hillary glanced
around the table.  “Why doesn’t everyone retreat to the family room and work on
your dessert appetites while I clear the table.  Tess, would you mind helping
me?”

“I’ll help, too.”  Cassie stood up and picked up her
plate.

“No expectant mothers are allowed to clear this table.” 
Hillary waved her finger at Cassie. 

“Quit it.  I’m pregnant, not helpless.”

Brice moved away from the table.  “You don’t have to
encourage me to leave.”

“Cassie, let us spoil you now,” Hillary said.  “Because
once that baby comes, you’ll be in servitude to it for the rest of your life.”

“Since you put it that way.”  Cassie smiled and left the
dining room with her father and husband. 

Tess followed Hillary into the kitchen with a stack of
dirty dishes.  Hillary relieved Tess of the dishes one at a time as she tilted
each one over a trash can and scraped it clean.

“Don’t mind your father, Tess.  He’ll support your move. 
He’s just dealing with a lot right now.”

“It would be a great opportunity, Hillary.”

“I know.  How exciting for a young woman like yourself to
live in another country and experience its culture.  Deep down, I’m sure your
father knows it, too.  He can’t help himself right now.”

“He’s acting like a grinch.”

“He’s acting like a father,” Hillary corrected while
scraping a plate and reaching for another.  “You live far away in New York, and
soon you’ll be farther away in Florence.  His other daughter lives in
California.  His youngest left home last year for college.  And to top it off,
soon he’ll have a grandchild living far away from him as well.