“Please call me Corinne,” she said smoothly, nodding at both of us.
Phillip stood a little straighten I wasn’t about to tell him he was too young to call an older lady by her first name, not in front of the older lady.
“Corinne, can I pour you a glass of wine?” Phillip said with perfect composure, and I glowed.
“That would be lovely.”
“We have…” and Phillip faltered.
I inspected the bottles Robin was carrying. “Robin’s brought a zinfandel and a shiraz,” I said. “Or, if you prefer, we have some vodka and orange juice.”
“No, the zinfandel, thanks.”
We got that all settled, then sat in the small formal living room after I’d put the peas on. Corinne was a past mistress of small talk, and we set about getting to know one another through the accumulation of little facts-or, more accurately, tiny indicators of those facts. Corinne, I learned, was well-off, a widow who had no intention of remarrying. She was very involved with her grandchildren by her two daughters, and she was active in her church (Episcopal).
Corinne learned I was also a widow, also financially secure, still working, had two live parents, and was a steady church attendant.
Corinne learned that Phillip normally lived in California. He was here on a visit, I told her, not mentioning his method of arrival. And I hoped Phillip wouldn’t, either, but if he did, so be it.
I excused myself to make the gravy and heat the rolls, and Corinne promptly asked if she could help in any way.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll borrow Robin, to help me with the turkey,” I said. “We’ll be in the kitchen. Would you like to come offer advice?”
“I’ll be glad to come,” Corinne said, standing gracefully with her barely touched glass of zinfandel. “But I’ll just observe silently.”
I laughed and led the way. We’ve been formal long enough, I thought. True to her word, Corinne offered almost no observations on how she prepared Thanksgiving herself, which I thought was just wonderful and amazing.
After the usual flurry of getting everything on the table, and getting everyone to sit and relax, the meal went very well. Robin carved the turkey with enthusiasm and a total lack of expertise, Corinne seemed to enjoy her food, and Phillip had seconds of everything. Robin kept casting little glances at me that I couldn’t interpret.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked later, when we were all sitting, replete and sleepy, our forks laid down for good.
“Oh.” My contented feeling almost vanished. “I have to straighten up Poppy’s house tomorrow.” Robin looked surprised. I hated to explain about the Wynns in front of Corinne.
“Who’s going to help you?”
“I don’t know. If Melinda can get a baby-sitter, I’m sure she will.” Even more than I, Melinda would not want die whole town to know what had happened, though I was sure that sooner or later the news would travel.
“I could help you,” he offered.
“That’s so nice of you.” I was genuinely touched. Robin was no slob, but picking up and cleaning were hardly his favorite activities, and he had a houseguest. “But I expect we can handle it. If we need anything too strenuous done, I’ll give you a call.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Corinne asked, out of courtesy.
“Oh, no, thank you,” I said quickly. “I’m sure Robin told you that my sister-in-law was killed a few days ago. As if that wasn’t awful enough, someone came into her house and ransacked it. My brother-in-law just shouldn’t be faced with dealing with a mess, in addition to everything else.”
We all laid out some platitudes about how dreadful the world was nowadays, and no one was safe, even in a small town like Lawrenceton, where people used to leave their doors unlocked year-round. I certainly didn’t remember such a time myself, but my mother had assured me that was so.
My company all helped carry the food and dirty dishes into the kitchen, and to my embarrassment and gratitude, Corinne and Robin insisted on doing the dishes. My good china couldn’t go in the dishwasher, so this was a bigger task than usual. Phillip and Corinne dried while Robin washed, and I put away all the leftovers. My pants felt a little tight around the waist, and though that wasn’t unusual after a large meal, I realized that they’d felt a little snug when I’d put them on that morning. Even my bra felt tight. I decided tomorrow would certainly be early enough to worry about weight gain, but tomorrow I’d definitely need to cut back.
We decided to stay in the less formal den, cozier and more comfortable and right by the kitchen. Of course, a football game was on, and Phillip and Robin talked sports while Corinne and I discussed Thanksgiving customs, Christmas shopping, how long I’d lived in my present house, Corinne’s grandchildren. Maybe she wouldn’t mind so much, me not being able to have any, since she already had some. The minute the thought crossed my mind, I was sorry.
I was about to ruin my own day, and I slammed a mental door on that subject and turned to more pleasant ones.
“My mother and her husband are coming to share a glass of wine in a short while,” I said. “I hope that you’ll stay and meet them.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Corinne said instantly. She seemed positively delighted at the prospect.
With Corinne, Phillip, and Robin settled down in front of the television, I excused myself. When I emerged from the bathroom off my bedroom, Robin was standing there waiting. Without saying a word, he kissed me. At first, it was a sweet sort of kiss, a ‘You just met my mom and she likes you’ kind of kiss, but abruptly it turned into a hormonal lip lock, that had more to do with ripping off underwear than Mom. In about one minute flat, we were ready to land on the bed.
“Whoa,” I gasped, pulling my lips away from his.
His mouth followed mine, and for a second we dallied with resuming the pleasurable activity, but sanity prevailed. My brother and Robin’s mom were in the next room, and the television volume wasn’t that loud.
“Can I come over tonight?” he whispered.
“Your mom!”
“She won’t miss me for a couple of hours.”
“But she’ll know, and that makes me feel creepy. I know she knows anyway, but still…”
“I’ll think of a very good excuse. Remember, I’m a professional writer.”
“Okay,” I said, giving in without a further thought.
“By the way,” the professional writer said, “your brother is a normal teenager who’s just gotten lucky very recently and was safe about it.”
“That’s all I want to know,” I said, making a stop sign by holding my hand up, palm facing him. “No gory details. Brothers and sisters don’t need to know too much.”
Robin decided we should kiss again. It was even harder to pull apart this time, and I was still feeling a little dazed by lust as we went back into the den, where Corinne was catnapping in an ever-so-ladylike way, and Phillip was talking on the phone again.
“Can I go?” he whispered. “Josh and Joss have finished eating, and his mom says it’s okay. They live about two blocks over, so I can walk. He’s got a Play Station Two and some games I haven’t tried yet.”
I glanced at my watch. I wondered whether my mother would be relieved or disappointed to miss seeing him, then decided that relieved would more fit the bill today, and gave Phillip my blessing, along with an injunction to be home in two hours, or I’d be calling the Finstermeyers.
Phillip waved good-bye to Robin, grabbed his jacket, and was gone before I could count to fifteen. Robin and I settled on the love seat and I leaned my head against his shoulder. Our hands were twined together. It was nice and warm, and I was full. I joined Corinne in dreamland for a few minutes, and then I heard my mother’s distinctive knock on the door. I couldn’t believe I’d missed all the worrying about the “Aida meets Corinne” scenario, and I couldn’t believe I’d fallen asleep twice in one day.