Page 43
Reggie wanted to keep pushing, but their mother walked into the kitchen, and the moment was lost.
“When you’re done with your salads, could you start setting the table?” Leigh said. “I want to use the good china and the nice glasses. Oh, and add three place settings.”
Reggie looked at Dena, who shrugged.
“We’re having company?” Reggie asked.
“Just a couple friends. Nothing special.”
“Who?” Dena asked.
Their mother smiled. “You’ll see.”
Knowing pursuing the topic wouldn’t help, Reggie carried their empty plates over to the sink, then followed Dena into the dining room. They made quick work of picking out linens and putting an old-fashioned candelabra on the buffet.
Dena touched the tall white tapered candles. “We probably shouldn’t light these. If Burt goes after Belle, she could easily bump into the buffet and poof, there goes our happy Thanksgiving.”
“A house fire isn’t what any of us longs for.”
While Dena took the good china out of the hutch, Reggie collected the flatware. She found a half-finished cross-stitch project in with the serving pieces and laughed.
Dena grinned. “Mom, we found your counted cross-stitch. The one of the giraffe.”
Their mother walked into the dining room. “Where was it? I’ve been looking for it forever.”
“Hutch drawer.”
Leigh took it and waved it. “I’m putting this in the basket by my recliner. If I forget, please remind me.”
Belle wandered into the dining room, looking more worried than usual.
“What is it, little girl?” Reggie asked. “Do you want to go out?”
She led Belle to the back door and opened it. The dog stood there, sniffing the cold air, visibly shivering. Reggie closed the door, then grabbed one of Belle’s jackets. Once she was bundled up, the dog reluctantly went into the backyard and finished her business before darting back inside.
“I know,” Reggie told her, unfastening the coat. “It’s much colder here than in Seattle. Sorry.”
Before Belle could agree—nonverbally, of course—the doorbell rang.
“Reggie, be a dear and get that.”
Reggie walked to the front of the house and pulled open the door, only to stare in disbelief. The “friends” her mother had mentioned were Toby, Harrison and Toby’s grandmother, Judy. At least, that was what she assumed, seeing as they were standing on the front porch, looking expectant.
“Ah, hi,” Reggie managed weakly, all the while wondering what on earth her mother had been thinking. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Toby’s semi-smug feeling that came from knowing Reggie had arranged the Thanksgiving invitation evaporated. Based on her shocked expression, she’d known nothing about them joining her family for dinner.
“Come in,” she said, stepping back. “You must be freezing.”
Everyone trooped inside. Dena appeared and helped with coats while Belle danced around Harrison, delighted he’d shown up in her house. Toby handed Reggie a covered dish.
“My grandmother made these.”
“Lefse,” Judy added. “They’re a family tradition.”
“It’s a Norwegian flatbread,” he added.
Reggie looked at him as if he was an idiot. “I’ve had it. At your house.”
