The Fling

53

We'd just finished expanding the dining room table with additional leaves, and Shawn was eyeing the assortment of desserts on the sideboard. "Everything looks so tempting. I might have to cheat today."

I pointed to two things on the far left. "Not if you don't want to. I made a gluten-free pumpkin pie and an apple crumble with oats."

"I love that you did that, but the bourbon pecan pie is calling my name."

"So eat the filling and leave the crust behind," I suggested.

"But there's also the stuffing you made this morning. I want to try that!"

I'd made my mom's incredible family recipe while he sat at the counter drinking coffee. It was currently cooking inside the turkey because the drippings gave it the best flavor, though I always made sure to test the temperature for food safety reasons.

I laughed. "I'm not going to tell you not to eat anything today since it's a holiday, but if you end up on the toilet all evening, that's on you."

"It'll be worth the pain."

He helped me set the table using my good dishes and silver, which had been wedding gifts. After we got engaged, we picked out simple ivory dishes with a silver band that paired perfectly with the modern silver flatware I fell in love with. It was a bit strange placing them on the table knowing Bert would be here later, but they were beautiful and it would be a shame not to utilize them. It was also funny how my feelings for these material items lasted longer than the marriage.

Dinner was planned to start at four, but everyone was arriving an hour and a half beforehand for drinks and light appetizers. At two o'clock, I went upstairs to change into something nice for the occasion. Shawn was wearing charcoal gray slacks and a fine-knit pale blue sweater, which suited his coloring perfectly. I rifled through my closet and chose a dark turquoise wrap dress and black heels so that we'd coordinate without matching. I put on some silver jewelry and redid my messy bun, curling the the loose tendrils around my face. Once I was ready, I called Hannah and Bertie up from playing games in the living room so that they could put on nice clothing, too.

"You look stunning, honey," Shawn told me when I joined him, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"Thank you! It's a shame that you and I rarely get dressed up like this. Maybe we should go out more." We'd fallen into a routine of being homebodies, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

My mom, who had been napping in the guest room, came downstairs. "I wish your father was coming today," she said wistfully. "It was nice seeing Stan on Bertie's birthday."

I often wondered if my mother still harbored romantic feelings for my dad. "He can't, but it's for a good reason for once. He called to tell me that he reached out to his sons, and they are all having dinner together."

The doorbell sounded and I went to answer it, finding Bertram and Gina on the porch. "Come on in!" I said cheerfully.

My former father-in-law had a pinched expression on his face. "Is Bert here? I need to speak to him," he said once they were in the foyer.

"Not yet. I'm sure he'll be here soon, though."

He nodded and went into the living area where he took a seat on the couch.

"Is everything okay?" I whispered to Gina.

She waved a hand dismissively. "It has to do with that investment. Bert forgot to do something and my cranky old husband is agitated."

The kids came down from their rooms, looking adorable in their dress clothes, which elevated the older generation's moods, and I went in the kitchen to get the charcuterie board ready while Shawn made a pitcher of Manhattans. As we finished prepping, the doorbell rang again, signaling Bert, Reagan, and Lizzie's arrival.