“Is that what you did?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” Blake said.

Eighteen

Iris Sileski was hosting Thanksgiving dinner at her house. Nine months pregnant, due in three weeks, feeling big as a water buffalo in a tutu, ankles swollen, father-in-law in the spare bedroom, husband working until afternoon, Iris was doing the baking and roasting a turkey. Seth’s oldest brother, Boomer, and his wife and kids were going to his wife’s family for the holiday, something they seemed to decide after Gwen announced her divorce and moved Norm out of the house.

“Chicken,” Iris said to Boomer. “The next time you’re in a bad place, call someone who cares!”

Nick, the bachelor brother, was coming. But Nick was not only clueless, he was also unpredictable. If some pretty girl called him with a better offer he might suddenly come down with the flu and miss Iris’s dinner. And being the bachelor, he wouldn’t be bringing the pies if he did come.

But despite the fact Iris was in a foul mood, she gave the dinner her all. She’d gone to Grace’s shop and made herself a beautiful horn of plenty centerpiece, baked three pies, bought a twenty-pound turkey and rigorously cleaned the house.

“Can I help with anything, Iris?” Norm asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “You can go next door and do whatever it takes to make up with your wife!”

“Now, Iris,” he said. And then he went to the station for a while. God forbid he should vacuum or clean a bathroom. Maybe Gwen had a point...

* * *

Seth had volunteered to work most of Thanksgiving Day so other officers could take time with their families. As compensation, he would take an extra-long dinner break, from maybe four till seven, during which time he would have dinner with his family, even though he’d be on call. And as extra compensation, he would have a nice Christmas, working the bare minimum, during which time he expected to have a brand-new baby girl in residence.

When he got home, only Nick and Iris were there. Nick was in front of the TV, watching football, drinking a beer. Iris was in the kitchen, working her tail off. Seth kissed her cheek and asked her how she felt.

“Just great,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “Can I help?”

“You’ve got cleanup,” she said. “You and any other male Sileskis on the property.”

“You bet. Of course. I’m on call, though.”

“Ah,” she said. “Have you scheduled the call yet?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind,” she said. “Just relax. It’s almost ready.”

“Where’s Norm?”

“At the station, of course. I imagine he’ll be here the second the dinner bell rings.”

And sure enough, he was. Iris said five o’clock and Norm came wandering in at ten minutes to—just enough time to wash his hands. He got a little sidetracked, though. He grabbed a beer and sat down with his boys in the living room, watching the game.

The table was set, the bird was resting, the potatoes mashed, the gravy perfect, the green beans under a pat of butter and the rolls buried in a linen wrap in a wicker basket. Napkins were rolled into holiday rings and the ice water had been poured.

There was a cheer from the living room followed by a lot of male laughter. This was not a sound alien to other Thanksgivings in the Sileski family, but usually there would be Boomer’s wife, Sandy, in the kitchen to help Gwen put out the food.

Iris walked right through the living room to the baby’s room, and even though she was roughly the size of an RV, she went completely unnoticed. She stood at the end of the crib, looking around at her baby’s room—it was so precious. She rubbed her tummy; it was getting hard and solid because there was no more room in there. She really didn’t know where she was going to put another three weeks or more. She wanted to hold this baby so dearly.

This was supposed to be the best Thanksgiving of her life—married to the love of her life for eleven months, nine months pregnant, at peace with the family, everyone anxiously awaiting the birth. Instead, what did she have? A day of backbreaking labor that no one really noticed followed by a feast they would all take for granted. And fat ankles.

She went back to the kitchen, again strolling through the living room unnoticed, and put all the food on the table. She began carving the turkey and even the noise from the electric knife only made the men louder. She called them to the table and they all came, slowly, one by one, the TV roaring in the background.

There was laughter and chatter as they loaded up their plates. They talked about the game, the weather, the garage, the sheriff’s department, their schedules, and paused every so often when there was a loud report from the TV, from the game. Nick got up from the table, fork still in his hand, and ran to the living room. “Touchdown!” he yelled. “That’s my team. Seth owes me two bucks so far but I plan to leave here a rich man!”

Then, remarkably, Nick came back to the dining room and picked up his plate, taking it to the living room, balancing it on his knee to watch the game and report. Within sixty seconds Norm was following his son, leaving Seth alone at the table with Iris.

He looked at her pleadingly. She jerked her head in the direction of the living room and before she could even reconsider Seth packed up his dinner and followed his dad and brother.

No one mentioned the glaring absence of Gwen. Iris had only talked to her a couple of times during the week, passing chitchat, because frankly she was furious with them both—Gwen and Norm! She wasn’t thrilled with Boomer, Nick or Seth, either.

She sat there picking at her dinner. Seth came in, kissed her on the cheek and asked her if she was okay. “Fine,” she said. So he took seconds of dressing, potatoes and gravy.

Right behind him came Nick, reloading. “Outstanding, Iris! Thank you!” She answered that it was a pleasure.

Iris sat there for a while and then she began packing up a hot picnic. If any of the men in the living room bothered to look into the kitchen they would assume she was cleaning up. She had a large pan into which she scooped a generous turkey dinner, enough for two. She poured gravy into a handy glass measuring bowl with a cover. She covered the whole thing with foil, carried the gravy, stuck napkins under her arm and slipped out into the cold night.

Assholes.

She knocked on Gwen’s door with her foot. She was actually delighted to see that Gwen was sniffling. “Have you eaten?” Iris asked.