Chapter 9
Pinewood
Thanksgiving
T he aroma of roasts in the oven and fragrant pies cooling on racks filled Myra’s kitchen. Charles had started at dawn to prepare a feast for the Sisters. When the Sisters completed a mission, it became a tradition for Charles to show off his culinary skills, and holidays were no exception.
Myra was busy getting the long, polished dining room table ready for the “good dishes and glassware,” a total departure from the mismatched plates and mugs they used every day.
She carefully inspected each piece of the Royal Doulton dinnerware that had been in her family since she was a child.
She was pleased that every piece was still in mint condition.
The Waterford Crystal glasses would sparkle once she wiped them down.
It had been over a year since she’d used them.
She pulled white linen tablecloths and napkins from the sideboard and waited for Yoko to bring a masterful centerpiece.
Several minutes later, Lady announced Yoko’s arrival with a familiar woof . Myra could swear her pooch had an individual bark for everyone. Myra heard Charles’s voice greeting Yoko and directing her to the dining room.
Myra caught her breath at the autumnal-themed flower arrangement. “That is absolutely gorgeous!” she said as she stared at the vibrant orange-tinted hydrangeas, burnt-orange roses, tall black willows, and long cornstalks, all surrounded by lance leaf and sycamore pods.
“This is for the sideboard,” Yoko announced. “I’ll get the rest.”
Myra placed the linens on the table as Yoko scurried back to her car.
She returned with a long box that contained shorter versions of the assortment of flowers.
They were just high enough so as not to obscure the view across the table.
Charles was following her with a second box that contained autumn leaves and gold tealights.
“Yoko, you have outdone yourself again!” Myra rejoiced at the festive transformation of the room.
“It is my passion.” Yoko made a slight bow.
“It is, indeed.” Myra bowed in return.
Charles quickly disappeared into the kitchen while the two women set the table, beginning with gold charger plates, then adding the rest of the dinnerware, glassware, and silverware.
Myra gave each knife, fork, and spoon an extra rub before she placed them on the table.
When they were finished, they stepped back to observe their creation.
A familiar voice exclaimed, “Martha Stewart would be proud.” Myra and Yoko turned to see Annie standing in the archway with a bottle of Dom Pérignon champagne in her hand.
“Hello, my friend,” Myra said, and gave her a hug. Yoko followed suit.
“You gals have been busy little beavers!” Annie exclaimed. “Looks spectacular.”
Myra put her arm around Yoko and said, “Our master green thumb.” She then noticed a few crumbs on Annie’s cheek. “What are you eating?”
“I stopped by Charles’s family kitchen and swiped one of the popovers he was experimenting with.”
It took Yoko a beat to realize Annie meant the farmhouse kitchen. “Do you think he could spare another one?” she asked.
“Not if I get there first!” Myra darted past the two women and hopped over Lady, who was sunning herself between the atrium and the dining room. The dog lifted her head slightly and resumed her position.
Fergus was also in the kitchen, wearing an apron announcing SOUS CHEF on the front, the letters surrounded by flames. Myra chuckled at the sight.
“I see you are official now.”
“Ah, yes. I am chuffed to bits. Always wanted one of these.”
Annie stood behind Myra. “It suits you.”
“We must make it more official,” Charles said, and disappeared into the pantry for a split second, returning with two toques. “And Bob’s your uncle,” he said as he plopped the shorter version of the chef’s hat on Fergus’s head. The two men stood next to each other as Myra and Annie howled.
“You look like the Swedish chef on the Muppets!”
Charles lifted his forefinger and placed it under his nose to imply a mustache, then did an impersonation pretending he was speaking Swedish. “De bonkie, boner viener, oopa snitzel.”
The women were laughing so hard, Yoko ran into the kitchen. “What am I missing?”
Charles repeated his shtick, and Fergus joined in. Tears were rolling down Myra’s face.
“I sure hope you cook better than your accent!” Annie teased.
“Fer sure and do gotten!” Charles answered with more gibberish.
“Let’s get serious,” Myra said, and tapped her foot, feigning impatience. “Where are the popovers?”
Annie spotted the crumbled mess on the counter opposite the stove. “I call dibs!”
Myra grabbed the back of Annie’s pants. “Oh, no you don’t. You already had yours.” The two women pretended to scuffle their way across the kitchen.
“Ladies! Ladies! A bit of civility, please,” Charles said in his more sophisticated British accent.
“Steady on,” Fergus added, and chuckled. “Good thing Maggie isn’t here. She’d be tackling the lot of you.”
“Speaking of Maggie. Where is she today? She’s joining us for dinner, correct?” Myra asked Annie.
“She’s scoping out the area where they plan to do the Santa Crawl this year.”
“I wouldn’t mind going from pub to pub,” Fergus said with a grin.
“You have to dress like Santa,” Annie replied.
Fergus patted his stomach. “I think after today, I might be a good candidate.”
“Why would anyone want to be around a bunch of drunks dressed in costume?” Myra asked.
Fergus and Charles darted glances and began to laugh.
“Oh, right. You have Guinness for breakfast,” Myra added.
“It’s got lots of vitamins and minerals,” Fergus defended the daily tradition in the UK.
“And calories,” Annie said, and patted his stomach.
Yoko leaned against the doorjamb with her arms folded. “This is quite entertaining, but I believe I should also have the pleasure of one of these fine treats, albeit a bit of a mess.” She nodded toward the mess of broken pastry.
Myra pulled Annie aside. “She has a point. Let’s behave and share,” she said, grinning.
Fergus pulled a plate from the cabinet and placed the disheveled remains of Charles’s experiment on top of it. He handed it to Annie with a few napkins.
“You ladies go back inside and play nice.” Fergus gave Annie a pat on the fanny.
“Sounds like a good plan,” Yoko said, nodding. “Thank you.”
Just as they were about to return to the atrium, Yoko mentioned, “I see you are taking good care of the plants.” She nodded to Myra.
“How could I not? You did such a beautiful job with this indoor garden. Besides, you would flip me over with one of your martial arts moves, sensei.”
Yoko raised her eyebrows. “You know from where you speak.”
“Yes, and you taught me well.” Myra was referring to the weekend retreat Yoko hosted to teach the Sisters basic karate and judo. “I’m still unsure if I want to experiment with parkour, with all that running and jumping.”
Annie elbowed her friend and said, “It’s easy-peasy.”
“Easy-peasy for someone who practices pole dancing at home.”
“Oh, dear Myra. A few lessons from me and you’ll be wrapping your legs around a pole and hanging upside down.” She turned to Charles. “Wouldn’t you like to see that?”
Charles hesitated. “I shall remain civil and maintain decorum,” he said with a straight face, and then winked at his wife. The two had a very passionate relationship, but Myra kept that side of herself, to herself. She began to fidget with her pearls.
Annie spotted Myra’s tell. “Oh, Myra. What are you keeping from us?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“I am not keeping anything that isn’t none of your business,” Myra replied with a stern look, but the blush on her cheeks said otherwise. She jerked Annie’s arm and led her into the atrium, where the sun filtered through the vaulted skylights.
“Myra’s got a secret,” Annie taunted her friend.
“Put a lid on it, will you, please?” Myra said, with a little more vigor this time.
“Okay, okay. Don’t be so touchy.” Annie pinched Myra’s cheek. “I love it when you get all embarrassed.”
Myra was now clutching her pearls and lowered her voice. “You may know your way around a pole, but I know my way around Charles.”
Annie hooted, “You are too much, my friend. After all these years I’ve known you!”
“You utter another word, and I shall have to kill you.”
Yoko watched the two women banter back and forth. “And this is why I find our group so interesting. You never know what is going to come out of a conversation.”
“Martial arts master or not, don’t make me hurt you,” Myra jested, and feigned a karate chop.
“What else do we have to do for dinner?” Annie asked.
“Nothing, really. The table is set; Charles and Fergus are cooking up a storm.”
“Excellent.” Annie moved over to the sideboard, where she’d left the bottle of champagne. She held it against her cheek. “Still chilled. What do you say?”
“I say, here’s to the bubbly!” Myra exclaimed.
“I am going to have to take a rain check,” Yoko said. “I need to get back to the shop. There are over a dozen people who will be breaking down the door to get their holiday arrangements.”
“I’d say we’ll save you some, but. …” Annie smirked.
“We shall replenish your supply.” Yoko referred to her husband Harry. She turned and made a slight bow. “We will see you in a few hours.”
“Okey dokey!” Annie said as she popped the cork. She turned to Myra. “The parade! We have to watch the Macy’s Day Parade!”
“We do!” The two women moved into the living room, plopped on the couch with their champagne flutes, and kicked off their shoes.