Thanksgiving

Chapter 5

After a bit of kissing, I leave Christian in the bedroom to head down to the kitchen to check out the organizational skills that are Mrs. Taylor. "Wow, Mrs. T. you've really outdone yourself. I don't think there's any chance of us messing this up," I say as I read over the notes.

"I wanted to make sure you were well situated for Monday," she says. "Would you like some tea?"

"You read my mind. When are you and Mr. Taylor leaving?" I ask as I sit on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Tomorrow evening. We're aiming to leave about 4, we're going to pick up Sophie from her mom's and then head to the airport." I watch her pour water into the kettle.

"It won't be the same without you two here. I know how much Christian depends on Jason for everything and I hope you know how much I depend on you for everything!" I say, as Mrs. Taylor pulls a teacup and saucer from the cupboard.

"You'll be fine. I have your meals for the week all made up and labeled in the fridge and freezer. Just follow the directions. Will the nanny be here this week?"

"Yes, she will be here tomorrow through Wednesday," I say. She keeps a room on the third floor when she's here over night. "I have work to do between cooking that I had to bring home since I wouldn't be at the office this week. Miss Evelyn will need to watch the two while I'm working. Hopefully she can handle cooking for us if necessary."

"There are enough portions to include Miss Evelyn and Sawyer in the meals. I've also included extra for lunches," she says as she hands me my hot water with the teabag on the side.

"You are just wonderful, Gail. I don't think I'd ever be able to make it without you."

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Grey." Says Mrs. Taylor. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go start packing. I keep putting it off and if I don't do it soon it won't get done."

"By all means, take all the time you need," I say as I take my first sip of hot tea. My children are napping, my husband is who-knows-where, and I have a moment to myself. It doesn't happen often. I walk to the living room and realize the room has been cleaned of popcorn and sippie cups. The beanbag chairs, however, are still there. I decide to leave them until the kids are up – no sense risking waking them unnecessarily just to put something away. I sit down in the leather chair facing the fireplace. We bought this house because of the fire places – among other reasons - but we've only ever had an actual fire once because Christian didn't think it was safe with the kids.

A ringing sound in the room indicates that someone has pulled up to the gate without a code to get in. I get up and look at the monitor next to the door. A FedEx truck is parked at the gate and the driver is standing outside his truck holding a package. "Yes?" I say into the microphone.

"I have a package for Mr. Christian Grey," he says. "It needs to be signed for."

I roll my eyes. What did he order now? "I'll be right down," I say as I grab my coat and the keys to my Saab. I would walk but I don't want to make him wait for me to walk the nearly-quarter mile down the drive. I push another button on the intercom and notify Mr. Taylor that I'm heading to the gate and leave the house before anyone can reply.

At the gate the FedEx man is waiting impatiently as he passes the electronic clipboard through the service door for me to sign. "How are you today?" I ask him, making an attempt at small talk.

He grumbles something that I can't make out and exchanges the clipboard for a small box. "Thank you," I say as he returns wordlessly to his truck and pulls away. "And a happy Thanksgiving to you, as well," I say to no one in particular as I get back in the car and return to the house.

Once back in the living room, I place the package on the table near the door and I hear the sounds of giggles in the informal dining room. That was a fast nap. I can hear Christian is with them so I take the opportunity to return the beanbag chairs to Phoebe's room. When I come downstairs, Christian is standing waiting for me. "Where did you go?" he asks.

"To the gate. There was a package for you," I say, pointing to the table.

"I didn't order anything... for once." He says. He pushes the intercom button and summons Taylor. "Taylor, were you expecting anything to be delivered?"

A moment later, Taylor's disembodied voice can be heard through the speaker. "No sir, I would have had it put in my name. I'll be right out."

In a matter of seconds Taylor comes into the room and looks at the package. "I'll see what I can find," he says as he picks it up and takes it back to his office.

I hear squealing in the dining room and when I enter I see Ted and Phoebe attacking each other with markers. "Markers? You gave them markers?" I ask as I separate them. "And you left them alone?" I eye the table and see that the rich dark mahogany wood has been drawn on. Lines of green and red crisscross in what looks like a fight between two angry modern artists had ended in a draw. I look at Phoebe who is holding a red marker and Ted a green. They both have marker on their hands and Phoebe appears to have been attempting to eat her's.

"Kids! You can't color on the table! I told you that!" says Christian as he walks to the table.

"Oh no no no no daddy, this is allll you," I say as I hand him a wet rag from the sink. Having the wet bar installed in this room was one of our better ideas. I gather up the papers that have been drawn on, write their names and dates on the back and shoo the two artists to the powder room to wash up. Ted loves to help his little sister. She won't like it – but I know he will have every spot of marker off his sister a lot faster than if Christian or I try.

As I add the pictures to the collection on the refrigerator I look over and watch Christian wiping the table. "If you're not careful, Mr. Grey – someone might actually call you domesticated."

He cringes at the thought and stands up admiring his work. "Luckily those were washable markers," he says as he walks toward me with a mischievous look in his eye. "You know, Mrs. Grey, I'm looking forward to Miss Evelyn coming tomorrow."

"I didn't know she was your type," I tease.

"Oh, she is definitely not my type. But you, on the other hand," he says as he wraps his arms around me, using the damp rag to pull me at the waist. "I am in need of some serious daddy mommy time," he whispers into my ear.

"I'll have to look at my schedule, but I'm pretty sure I can squeeze you in." I wrap my arms around him, kiss him hard and let his tongue enter my mouth. If only Miss Evelyn were coming today.

"Mommy," says Ted as he stands at the front door. The door has glass block windows on either side of the solid oak. Ted is standing with his nose to the window peering between the wavy patterns in the glass.

"Yes sweety?" I ask as I walk toward him.

"There's a man in the driveway."