Men like Paul will help provide it.”
“I will.”
“I hope you do,” Harry said sincerely, “for all our sake.”
Dinner with the Carmichael clan was never a laid-back affair. They didn’t do small, quiet, or intimate. We sat around the big dining room table, even the kids, and the conversations were all over the place.
Christy sat across from me, next to five-year-old Hal on a booster seat.
She and Harry talked about a new mall near their house. Harold and his granddaughters talked about Inspector Gadget, and the girls explained how Gadget’s niece and her dog really solved all the cases. Marianne and I covered everything from Romantic poets to Star Wars. Anne switched between Penny and Brain on one side, and Keats, Shelley, and Skywalker on the other.
“Is there anything you don’t talk about at dinner?” I finally asked.
“The Navy,” Anne and Marianne said together, with such finality that the other conversations stopped.
“What’s that?” Harry asked. “Does someone need to put a quarter in the jar?”
“No, dear,” his mother said. “Paul just asked if there’s anything we don’t talk about at the table.”
“Ah, right.” He looked at me. “No shop talk during dinner.”
“My mother’s rule,” Anne said, “and it’s a good one.”
“No argument from me,” her husband said. “But… I just thought of something.” He gripped his knife and fork and held them upright in his fists.
“How’s this work? Go Go Gadget Dessert!”
The girls giggled.
“No, Granddad,” Rose said with a seven-year-old eye-roll. “We have to do it for you.”
The older girls nodded.
Anne’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the girls. “Come on, let’s show him how it’s done.”
They disappeared into the kitchen.
“Let’s clear the table, Birdy,” Marianne suggested. She put her hand on mine before I could move and quietly added, “We’ll do it. But thank you.”
I nodded and let her take my plate.
Christy set Hal on his feet, and he ran into the kitchen after his sisters.
She flashed me a pretty smile before she started gathering the plates at the other end of the table.
“We ready for the good stuff?” Harry asked his father. He went to the sideboard without waiting for an answer and poured six glasses of whiskey.
The girls and Anne returned with a chocolate cake on a festive Christmas pedestal. She helped Virginia cut, and the younger girls served. After a minute Christy and Marianne rejoined us and slid into their seats.
We lingered over the dessert and drinks until Harry and Marianne’s daughters took Hal and went to watch TV in the day room, a converted bedroom next to mine. The ladies cleared the remains of the cake and said they’d join us in the living room. Before we went in, Harry topped off my drink over my feeble objections.
I was already feeling the effects of so much alcohol, but Christy quietly rescued me a few minutes later. She sat on the arm of my chair, took my nearly full glass, and sipped it without giving it back. Marianne saw and winked at me. Her own drink looked to be more water and ice than whiskey.
We talked about who-knows-what for thirty minutes. Then Harry, bless his 80-proof heart, brought me a fresh drink when he refilled his. I took a polite taste and forced a smile. Marianne came to my rescue that time.
“I think I’d like to take a walk.”
“Me too,” I said so quickly that Christy nearly jumped.
“We’ll stay and watch the kids,” Anne said. She and Marianne exchanged a look, and I realized that Something Was Up.
Still, I donned my jacket and helped Christy into her sweater. It was fuzzy white cashmere, and it made her look like a bunny more than ever.
Outside, the cold air did wonders for my concentration. I closed the door behind us, and Marianne unobtrusively lingered between Christy and me.
“Let’s go, Birdy-bird,” Harry said without missing a beat. “Walk with your big brother.”
“Sure.” She glanced at me—she also realized we were being separated—
before she added, “I’d be delighted.”
We strolled toward the entrance to the neighborhood, but Marianne deliberately walked a little slower, until we were safely out of earshot. I didn’t mind, since she clasped my arm and half-leaned into me as we walked.
She was soft and warm, with just a hint of expensive perfume, and if she hadn’t been my girlfriend’s sister-in-law, I would’ve wondered if she had more in mind than just conversation.
“You’re not really that drunk,” she said at last.
“No, but I don’t want to be either.”
She nodded and mulled that over.
“Christy gets a little flirty,” I explained. “And one of us needs to be sober
if we want to… um… wait till the wedding, so to speak.”
“Funny you should mention that,” Marianne said.
I wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed, so I didn’t reply, which made her smile. We walked in silence for a while.
Then she said, “When Danny told us about you, he said you were a cool customer.”
“And what do you think?”
She studied me a moment before she said, “He’s always been a good judge of character.”
“Ah.”
“He also said you care about Birdy.”
“I do.”
“I can tell. And you’re getting serious.”
“We are.”
“Three-little-words serious,” she added.
“That too.”
“And, naturally, she’s been talking to me.”
“Naturally.”
She smiled again. “You are a cool one.”
“It’s better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt.”
She laughed, bright and musical and genuine. She could’ve been a younger version of Susan, albeit blonde and with even more polish, if that were possible.
“You’re wondering whose side I’m on,” she said matter-of-factly. “Well, put your mind at ease. I’m on yours. And Birdy’s.”
“And Anne’s.”
“Yes.” Her perfectly colored lips pursed with a grin. “She said you’re quick.”
“I see who’s really running the show in the Carmichael clan.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘running the show,’” she said. “Just… offering opinions here and there.”
“Does Harry realize he married a younger version of his mother?”
“I think he does now. But we’re a good team. We want the same things.”
She glanced at me sideways. “You and Birdy do too.”
“I think so.”
“Then let’s talk about this ski trip of yours.” She went on before I could
tense up. “This isn’t going to be a conversation about your intentions.”
I nodded with more than a bit of relief.
“We both know what they are,” she laughed. “Birdy’s too, for that matter.” We walked in silence while she decided what to say next, until she nodded at the couple ahead of us. “Harry and his father and brothers think she’s led a sheltered life.”
“She hasn’t?”
“Oh, please. We both know better. No girl is ever as innocent as her father thinks.”
I shrugged noncommittally.
“But Birdy doesn’t really have a lot of experience in the… um… How should I put this?”
“In the bedroom department?”
“No, not exactly. She knows plenty about certain bedroom activities. But not as much about… the marital one.”
“Ah. Right.”
“You have a lot more experience in that department, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question. She looked over and waited for me to boast or deny it or something. She’d have to wait a long time, she realized, which made her smile. Again.
“What makes you say that?” I said at last.