Page 169 of With Us

“That’s a no then.” She handed me a masher. “They’re in the strainer in the sink. Melt some butter in the pot on the stove, then add the potatoes and smash. I’ll get the milk.”

I set to work, doing as she said.

“Add this in slowly.” Rachelle set a measuring cup of milk on the counter before handing me salt and pepper. “Let me know if you need me.” She turned away and shouted, “Lou! The game will be there when you get back. That turkey may not if it starts on fire.”

“I’m coming, no reason to be overdramatic.” Lou winked at me as he headed outside.

“Years.” Rachelle shook her head. “He’s been asking me foryearsto deep fry a turkey. Not only did I finally make it, but I also loaded it with Cajun seasoning so it’s spicy for him. And he thanks me by getting sucked into the damn football game. That bird is probably drier than the desert now.”

I carefully did as she’d instructed, not wanting to be responsible for ruining a key side dish.

Rachelle grabbed a fork and tried a bite. “Add another stick of butter, then it’ll be perfect.”

“A stick?”

She smiled. “Thanksgiving is the day of rich foods. Can’t skimp on the butter.”

“Got it.” Cutting the butter, I added the pieces and stirred it so they’d melt. “Is there anything else I can do?”

“Grab that cutting board,” she said, gesturing to a massive clear board. When I brought it down, she opened the oven and pulled out a turkey in a roasting pan. “Okay, give me a hand here.” We carefully transferred the massive bird onto the cutting board. “There. Now that rests. Can you get the package of butter out of the fridge? And while you’re in there, pour us a drink from that pitcher.”

“Sure.” I handed her the butter before filling a couple glasses. “Do you need anything else?”

“Just keep me company.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Leaning against the counter and sipping at my drink, I watched Rachelle melt multiple sticks of butter in a double burner pot. She whisked in some flour slowly, making the kitchen smell almost nutty. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until she added the juice from the turkey and some milk. “Gravy?”

“The best. Here.” She forked up some potatoes and dipped them in the gravy.

I ate them and wanted to steal the rest. “That’s delicious.”

“Usually, I roast one regularly seasoned turkey and one Cajun, and mix the drippings for gravy so it has some kick.” The door opened and footsteps approached, so she raised her voice a little. “ButLouinsisted on deep frying.”

“And you’ll be happy I did,” Lou said, entering the kitchen.

Theo followed behind him, holding a roaster pan and the second turkey.

“Did you remember to turn the fryer off and disconnect everything?” Rachelle asked, scooching out of the way so Theo could set down the pan.

Theo fought a grin, though his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed more. “Only two people in this room are in the habit of setting food on fire, Mom, and I’m neither of them.”

“Hey, mine was a cake!” I protested.

“One time. I set the kitchen cabinets on fire one time, and I’ll never live it down.” Rachelle started filling bowls with food before handing them to Theo and Lou. “Tina and Julie should be done setting the table. Start bringing food out.”

With everyone pitching in, food enough for a hundred was placed on the table set for twenty-five. Lou and Theo each carved a turkey, transferring the meat to platters before putting them with the rest of the food.

“If you’re wanting to eat, better get in here quick!” Rachelle shouted.

When we’d arrived a couple hours earlier, I hadn’t believed how much food there was. Although Rachelle had told us we didn’t have to bring anything, I’d insisted on getting pies from the bakery Java Brew used to order from. Theo had also brought multiple bottles of wine. Everyone else had provided a side dish, drink, or dessert, which meant there was a month’s worth of food.

With everyone doing a bit, no one person had to carry all the weight. It made for a more relaxing day, even for Rachelle.

Food was dished out, drinks were poured, and the rumble of conversation and laughter filled the room.

“This manicotti is amazing,” I whispered to Theo. There were pieces of spicy Italian sausage and about seven pounds of cheese.

“Luc made them.”

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