Chapter 26
The Friday before Thanksgiving, Foster walked into the kitchen to find his parents in full-scale planning mode.
Each holiday, his mom cooked an enormous feast—no matter how many sat at her table.
She delivered plates to the two local fire houses for the men and women who had to work the holiday.
It had started when his uncle had worked there back in the early eighties.
His uncle no longer worked there or for any fire department, and hadn’t for a solid decade before he’d passed, but it had become a tradition over the years.
One his mother refused to let go of, even as she got older.
He sensed it was becoming more than she needed to manage, especially with his dad at less than full-strength, but there was no way he was going to convince her to stop.
As long as he could convince her to let him help.
“Are you taking applications for an assistant this year?” Foster asked as he sidled up beside her.
She hugged him around the waist. “I would love some help.”
“Well, that was easier than I expected,” Foster said.
“Last year wore me out. I almost backed out of it this year, but I couldn’t leave them without Thanksgiving dinner.” She sighed. “Can you help me prepare the sides and pies Wednesday?”
“Sure. On one condition. You let me handle delivery Thursday evening,” Foster said.
“But I like delivering them,” she said.
“Okay, how about, my SUV can be your sleigh, I can be your reindeer and muscle, and you can play Turkey Santa?”
“Turkey Santa?” She laughed. “Works for me.” She made a note on a piece of paper. “Are you planning to invite anyone this year?”
Foster’s smile faded. He wanted to invite Jude but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Him agreeing to give space had clearly been a mistake. He still hadn’t figured out a way around that promise. “No, I’m afraid it’s just me.”
“I think I told you that your brother is staying in Virginia with Shelly’s family this year?”
“Yep,” Foster said.
“It’ll just the three of us, I guess,” his mother said.
“More than enough,” Foster said with a grin.
“Indeed,” his father said.
“I stopped in to see if you guys wanted anything from Pat’s?” Foster said. “I was going to run over and get a hoagie for lunch.”
“The whole thing about working virtually is that you can make a sandwich from home,” his mother said. “I’ve got that ham you like.”
Foster chuckled. “But I’m craving a steak and cheese, Ma.”
Anton had mentioned that Jude stopped into Pat’s once a week to pick up lunch.
Between that place, a few more Anton had mentioned, and the handful Jude had requested dinner from when he’d been spending nights, he’d been going out to eat way too often, trying to accidentally run into Jude.
So far, he’d had zero luck. Grindr wasn’t working, either, unless he counted all the men who weren’t Jude who’d tried to hook up with him since setting up his profile.
Thank god he finally figured out how to silence the notifications. Not before one had gone off in a meeting at the office, of course. He now had a pretty good idea who all the men who had sex with men were in his office.
They also knew he was in that number, too. Two had already asked him out, both of which he’d carefully turned down. Another had contacted him via the app, asking for an over-the-desk fuck session in his office, which he’d less than graciously declined.
Foster wasn’t interested in fucking around. He’d only signed up for Jude. Too bad it hadn’t worked. He was tempted to delete his account to save him from more embarrassment.
He wasn’t sure how else to see Jude without breaking his promise.
Foster was failing the test.
“If you don’t mind, pick us up a large Italian with oil. Your dad and I can split it.”
“Sure thing,” Foster said before pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Be back in a little while.”
He jumped into his SUV and headed for Pat’s, taking the long way so he could ride past the butcher shop and peek inside.
He was being ridiculous, he knew, but what else was he supposed to do?
If it went on much longer, he was just going to knock on Jude’s door and beg forgiveness on his hands and knees.
Fuck creativity. He’d just go with honesty. He missed Jude and he sensed Jude might miss him. Why continue their torment if they didn’t have to?
After a no-show drive past the butcher shop and a no-see at the hoagie joint, he drove the long way home again. He slipped into a spot near Jude’s place and contemplated going inside and making a fool of himself.
Jude would hate that.
Absolutely despise it.
After waiting a couple more minutes and not seeing any sign of Jude, he pulled out into traffic and headed home with an ache in his chest.
It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and the butcher shop was already slammed.
As expected, there was a line out the door.
People waited to pick up their fresh birds for the holiday—and there were other lines inside for those picking up other cuts or deli trays.
It had been controlled chaos since they’d opened first thing Monday morning, and Jude thrived on the madness.
He manned the fresh turkey line along with their apprentice Mario and his part-timer Jonah, and they ran the massive turkeys in and out of the shop all day long.
Many of his customers were older and couldn’t lift the big birds they’d ordered, so they carried them out as an added service the grocery stores often didn’t offer.
When he noticed Mrs. Price in line later that afternoon, he sidled up beside her. “Hey, what can I get for you?”
“Oh, hon, I’m just waiting for the turkey I ordered.”
Jude searched around the shop. “Is Foster here with you?”
“Oh no,” she said. “He’s in the city today, at work.”
Jude fought against his disappointment. He’d contemplated reaching out a couple of times, but as busy as he knew he’d be that week, it didn’t seem fair to either of them. There was no way he could give Foster the attention he deserved.
“Why don’t I go ahead and get your order for you. I can bring it out to your car.”
She smiled at him. “That’s so sweet of you, Jude, but I don’t want to cut the line.”
“No worries. You’re a friend of the family, right?”
Mrs. Price smiled at him. “Actually, yes. But it was a long, long time ago.”
Jude smiled. “What did you order?”
“A twenty-five-pound bird,” she said.
“Oh, you’re having a big feast.”
Her eyes widened, and a grin that looked painfully familiar appeared. “Every year!”
“I’ll carry it out, but is there someone at home who can carry it in?”
“Oh, I can manage,” Foster’s mom said. “I get a big one every year.”
“Nah,” Jude said. “I’m not leaving that for you to struggle with, Mrs. P.
” Foster was in the city, and her husband was recovering from a stroke.
She was no spring chicken herself. It would be rude of him not to help.
“How about I bring it over after work this evening? I can put it right into your fridge for you.”
And if Foster happened to be there? Even better.
A slow smile spread over her face. “That’s way too much to ask. I’ll be fine.”
“If I learned you’d hurt yourself, I’d never forgive myself. I can bring it by around six-ish. Is that okay?”
“That would be great… if it’s not too much work for you,” his mother said. “You could stay for dinner, if you’d like.”
“No, no,” Jude said. “You don’t have to invite me to dinner. I’ll just drop off your bird and be on my way. Did you order anything else besides the turkey?”
“No, just the one turkey. I’ll see you tonight around six.”
Jude waved as she left, trying not to smile. He had no idea if Foster would want to see him there or not. But he was soon going to find out.
Jude was well over an hour late when he pulled his work truck into the Price’s drive.
His worry faded some when he saw Foster’s SUV parked in front of the garage.
He flipped the truck into park before exiting and hauled the massive twenty-five pounder from the refrigerated section in the rear and headed for the back door.
Jude’s mom swept it open as soon as he knocked. “Oh my! I was starting to get nervous when I saw the time!”
“My apologies,” Jude said. “We close at six, but we couldn’t get the line down enough to lock the door until well after that. I came as soon as I could.”
“As long as you’re okay and it made it here, I’m fine. Come on in! I’ve made space in the basement fridge already.”
Jude walked in and scanned their lovely, organized kitchen.
It wasn’t as dated as Gooseland upstairs in the apartment.
He’d halfway expected to find more of them lingering around.
The kitchen was large and well-stocked, but not pretentious or filled with expensive gadgets and appliances.
It looked like she had been in the midst of rolling out homemade pie shells.
A big bowl of shelled pecans sat on the counter, ready to be used.
Mr. Price sat at the kitchen table snipping green beans.
He gave Jude a wave and a lopsided smile.
“Hi, Mr. Price. How’s it going?”
“Good, good, Jude. How’re you?”
“Great, sir,” Jude said, smiling. He scanned the house, what he could see of it, and sensed no one else was there. Disappointment filled him. “Is… Foster here?”
“No, I’m afraid not,” Mr. Price replied.
“Oh… I saw his SUV in the drive and assumed he was.”
“The station is so close. He walks there when he has to go into the office,” Mrs. Price answered.
“Ah, right,” Jude murmured. “I forgot.”
“He sent a message this afternoon that he had to work late again. He went in around five this morning, poor thing. From what he’s said, they’re trying to get ahead of the holiday so they can relax, but he’s going to be worn out by the time it gets here.
” She paused, shaking her head. “It’s just the two of us here tonight.
I can tell Foster that you stopped by and said hello, if you’d like? ”