Page 5 of Even More Christmas Magic and Romance
Lolly let out a huff. “No wonder Adam wanted her along when he went to New York.”
“Adam is nice,” I said, “but let’s face it, our father can be quite the competition.”
Lolly shrugged. “I think Thanksgiving at Dad’s house will be very interesting.”
Five
FOR THE THIRD year in a row, I’m standing at a stove and stirring gravy on Thanksgiving. I’m sure it’s not what my dad expected to happen. He thought my mom was going to help him fix dinner for the family. He thought wrong.
Mom called Dad this morning and said she had a sore throat. She thought she was coming down with a cold. She didn’t want to give one of us what she had. She called Stanley next. He’s a very good cook, and she asked if he could take her place and help out Dad. Stanley said he’d be happy to do whatever was needed. I insisted on going with him to Dad’s house.
So here I am, stirring gravy in Dad’s kitchen. On the plus side, I’ve learned a lot since my first, chaotic Thanksgiving. And I’m quite good when it comes to cooking. However, both Dad and Stanley seem determined not to let me overdo with fixing a big meal. I think that’s why they gave me this gravy stirringjob. Meanwhile, the two of them are busy with the main food preparations.
Listening to them talking about guy stuff is fun. In between peeling potatoes, making cranberries and checking on the turkey, they’re discussing sports, what car Dad should buy to replace his current sporty model, and their work situations. It’s so nice that they get along so well. It would be difficult if they didn’t like each other. In fact, I think Stanley enjoys my dad more than his own father.
Stanley’s father is very focused on what he thinks everyone around him should be doing. As his only child, Stanley must have felt a lot of pressure growing up. My dad is always friendly and encouraging when he and Stanley get together. It’s strange, but I used to think of my dad as a real jerk. After some honest conversations with each other this past year, we’ve worked out a lot of our problems. I even find myself reaching out to Dad for advice.
“How’s the gravy coming,” he asked as he joined me at the stove.
“It’s nice and smooth,” I said. “No lumps.”
Dad took a quick glance at my pregnant belly and held out his hand for the stirring spoon. “Gloria, you’ve done enough. Sit down and let me get you something to drink. Would you like me to make you a fruit smoothie?”
“I don’t want to spoil my appetite,” I said as I handed him the spoon. I hesitated. “Dad, can we talk?”
Dad glanced around at the crowded counters and pots bubbling on the stove. “Do you think it’s a good time?”
I nodded and pointed. “Stanley can watch everything, right, Stanley?”
“Sure thing,” Stanley said.
I took Dad’s arm and guided him into the dining room. As soon as I saw the table, I knew my father was trying hisbest to capture the spirit of Thanksgiving. The plaid tablecloth was festive with rich red, orange, and gold tones. The simple centerpiece consisted of several mini pumpkins sitting on a rustic, wood round and surrounded with artificial fall leaves.
Dad saw me eyeing the table and smiled. “Your mom was at a craft fair and thought the pumpkins would look nice.”
“The table looks great,” I said, but after that I was at a loss for words. The one thought I had was simple. I needed Dad’s advice after talking to Mom. But I didn’t know how to start the conversation. Dad and I stood in front of the French doors and just stared at each other for a long moment.
Dad spoke up. “You have that look, Glory. What’s the matter?”
I felt tears welling up, and I didn’t even know I was sad. I could blame my emotional state on third trimester hormones, but I’ve been like this in the past when I wasn’t pregnant. “Dad, I don’t think it’s fair to talk to you about this but—“
Dad gave me an understanding smile. “I thought we said we could talk about anything.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay, so here goes. Mom is having a hard time.”
Dad looked confused. “She called and said she had a cold, but I’m sure she’ll get better.”
“No, it’s not that. She and Adam had a quarrel, and it’s really upsetting her.”
Instead of commenting, Dad turned and stared out one of the French doors. I did the same. A light snow had stopped falling during the night. When the sun came out early in the morning, all signs of the white stuff had melted.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “Mom’s problems have nothing to do with you anymore.”
Dad chuckled, but not in a funny way. “If only that were true.”
I frowned. “What do you mean? I know you care about Mom, and I think she feels the same way about you. She told me that your friendship is important to her.”
Dad gave me a sideways glance. “Glory, your mother is and has always been a wonderful person. Still, we were very different people when we were married. I was the provider, and she took care of the family and home. Once you, Lolly and Jack moved out on your own, our differences were even more pronounced. I didn’t think we could get past those differences. So we got divorced.”
