Family Ties

”

“Evidently,” he grumbled, although he definitely approved.

Anne stuck her head out of the kitchen. She surveyed the table and saw that we were between games.

“We’ll be ready to eat in about forty-five minutes,” she said.

“All right, gentlemen,” Harold said, “secure the cards.”

“Danny,” Anne said, “will you and Paul set the table? Rich, you and Terry can fold the napkins and bring the centerpieces in from the family room. Harry, bring the dessert trolley in from the garage, please. James, will you decant the wine and set out the whiskey on the drinks tray? Steven, you come with me and help set the kids’ table.

”

“You heard the lady,” Harold said to everyone. “Chop-chop.”

The Carmichael Thanksgiving was a rollicking mixture of traditional food and lively conversation. Harold said a typical Catholic grace—“Bless us, O

Lord, and these, Thy gifts…”—and then used an electric knife to carve the massive turkey.

We passed the plates instead of the serving dishes, and everyone drank wine. The talk steered clear of politics, but anything else was fair game, from children’s books to violence on TV.

I had a surprising conversation with Danny and Sabrina about nudity in the movies. She and I agreed it was fine, while he was more prudish.

When everyone had eaten their fill and then some, Anne and Marianne brought out the dessert trolley. They cut slices of mincemeat and pumpkin pies and added huge dollops of real whipped cream. Christy ate an enormous slice of Lynne’s chocolate cake, while I had a much smaller piece.

Rich must’ve eaten a dozen cookies that the girls had decorated especially for him.

Danny was eating a piece of pie when he pretended to bite into something hard. I tapped Christy’s knee to get her attention.

Marianne quietly slipped to the kitchen door and stuck her head through.

Danny played it up and tried to figure out what he’d bitten into. Sabrina grew concerned. Out of her sight, Marianne held open the kitchen door as the kids silently crept into the room.

Danny pursed his lips and made it look like he pulled out a diamond ring. He held it up in surprise.

“Someone must’ve lost a ring in the mincemeat pie.”

Lynne made a show of checking her left hand. “No, I have mine.”

“It isn’t mine.” Marianne showed us her own ring finger.

“Not mine either,” Anne said.

“Oh, Danny, I wish!”

Everyone chuckled except Danny, who looked at the ring in confusion.

Sabrina still hadn’t caught on.

“Well… that’s odd,” he said at last.