Page 42 of Easton Island: Old-Fashioned Christmas
“And I love you too.” Elizabeth gave him a light kiss, her expression mirroring his.
Morgan was next. “I’m thankful for all of you, as well. Even though I miss my mom, I have my family here and couldn’t be more grateful.”
“I don’t mean to be a copycat, but my sister summed it up perfectly,” Brett said. “Family is everything.”
Taking turns, the others shared being thankful for a warm house, for Elizabeth’s hospitality, for their health. They reached Jeff Blakely, who said he was thankful for his nephew.
All eyes turned to Tristan. He squirmed and looked at his uncle, as if seeking permission.
Jeff gave a small nod of his head.
“I miss my mom too. I’m thankful Mrs. Easton…uh…Ainsworth asked us to stay because this house is super rad.”
His enthusiastic statement generated a ripple of laughter from the dinner guests.
“And on that note, dessert will also be super rad.” Mrs. Arnsby sprang from her chair.
Ben offered his assistance, wheeling a cart filled with tasty treats: coconut cream pie, pumpkin pie, Michigan cherry pie, chocolate cake. Last, but not least, was the star of the show…the Christmas pudding.
Each individual slice sat on a decorative holiday plate, representing the twelve days of Christmas. Working her way around the table, she placed a plate in front of each guest. Ben followed behind, pouring a generous amount of rich brandy sauce over the top. “Would anyone like their pudding flambéed?”
“What is flambéed?” Tristan asked.
“Lighting the dish on fire.”
His eyes grew round as saucers. “You’re setting the pudding on fire?”
Another ripple of laughter echoed in the room.
“Using great caution.” Mrs. Arnsby hurried to his side. With the flick of a button, she torched the dish. Flames shot straight up into the air.
“Cool,” he whooped. “Can I blow it out?”
“Carefully,” his uncle warned.
Taking a breath, Tristan blew out the flame. The others at the table broke out in a spontaneous round of applause. “I never saw food on fire before.”
“It’s only on special occasions,” Elizabeth said.
“Will it taste burnt?”
“Not at all.” Mrs. Arnsby insisted on serving the others, adding a scoop of French vanilla ice cream to their plates.
“Before you dig in, I must warn you each slice contains a charm, to bode good fortune for the new year,” their hostess explained.
Making a game of it, each of them dug into their pudding searching for their hidden trinket. Whether by luck or by design, silver coins and rings, miniature horseshoes and four-leaf clovers were found, with nary a single thimble in sight.
The meal finally ended, and Elizabeth invited the guests to the library for after-dinner drinks and a singalong at the piano.
The room started to clear, and the senior Easton motioned for Morgan and Brett to hang back. “Thank you, Morgan, for wrapping the presents for our extra guests.”
“You’re welcome. You found some great gifts.”
“Amazon is my friend.” Elizabeth turned to Brett. “Jeff and Tristan have agreed not to spill the family beans?”
“Yes.” Brett made a zipping motion across his mouth. “Not a peep.”
“Good.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “And Quinn?”
