Chapter 10
Ten
The snow ended before midnight. Christmas Day dawned into a clear gray sky with a bite in the air, just to remind them weather was always susceptible to change.
The turkey order arrived from Edison’s Eats.
The leaf was in the dining room table, and every extra chair Floy had was in place, including a tall stool with a spindle back that he’d pulled out of a back room for Leroy, Dory’s youngest, to sit in, and an old piano bench big enough for two, where her two older boys, Robby and Joe, would sit.
Beau and Razor were the first to arrive with the sweet potato dish.
Jerry and Mary Sue quickly followed with apple and pumpkin pies.
Dory came in last, entering the room with a wild look on her face, carrying a huge casserole of mac and cheese, with three little boys behind her like a covey of quail moving in unison. Their hair was perfectly parted and combed, their clothes had been ironed, and their little shirts tucked.
“Look at them now, because their version of neat and clean doesn’t last long,” she announced.
Floy grinned, took the casserole from her hands and squeezed it in on the table between carrots and corn.
“I’m sure glad y’all came, Dory. You look real pretty in pink,” then to shift focus from his compliment, he gave the boys each a quick wink. “Okay guys, introduce yourselves. These people are my friends, and the best friends you’ll ever meet.”
“They don’t walk away?” Joe asked.
Floy immediately put a gentle hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Not until they think someone wants them to help do the dishes,” Floy said. “But even then, these people always come back, because that’s what people do who are really your friends.”
The boys liked that answer and promptly told everybody their names. Robby, Joe, and Leroy had just become the youngest guests of honor.
Floy waited until everyone was about to sit down and made an announcement.
“On the first serving, I think it would be easier for everybody to just circle the table to fill your plate, then take a seat. If you want seconds, you hand your plate down to the one sitting nearest that food. But Dory and I will make the boys’ plates first, so they can be seated,” he said, then glanced at Dory. “Will that work?”
“Perfectly,” she said, and picked up a plate while Floy picked up two plates and stepped in beside Dory. “Okay, Mama, you put what the boys like on their plates, then tell me which boy goes with which food. You can do Leroy’s plate as you go. That way they can all start eating together.”
Beau laughed. “Okay, everybody. Just so you know, this is exactly how he runs the business, and the way we get instructions. This dude’s mind works like a spreadsheet. He’s just cute to go with it.”
The room erupted with laughter, and even Floy was laughing at himself. He didn’t know he’d already sealed his place in Dory’s world the moment he told Joe that real friends never leave. Joe needed to hear that. Robby needed to hear it, and so did she.
The room was filled with sound of forks clinking against plates, and kids asking for more, their excitement of sitting at a table with grownups evident.
The guests began sharing memories as they ate and made comments about the new police chief.
They also updated each other about how many views the videos of Floy’s exploits in the ice storm had now.
Beau told the story about shooting himself in the foot with a nail gun, and about the time they took down an old chimney during a renovation and a skunk waddled out of the debris and sprayed Razor so bad he passed out.
Dory had grown up with these three men. They’d been part of her childhood and were fast becoming part of her life now. She didn’t know what the future held for her, but there was a secret part of her hoping that Floy Beaudine would be in it. Somehow. Some way.
Long after dinner was over and the dishes were done. After the leftovers had been boxed up for all who wanted them, and the goodbye hugs and handshakes had come and gone, Floy was lying in bed.
Listening.
Thinking.
Planning.
Mentally picturing what the best way would be to add square footage to his house.
He could go up to add a second story, or he could go out and keep it all on the ground floor. He needed a two-car garage, and the whole back area of his property all the way to the trees would need to be fenced in.
Then he would remind himself that none of this had to happen if he and Dory just decided to stay friends. He told himself it wouldn’t matter. He’d already convinced himself that he’d grow old alone.
But now there was this seed.
This bit of hope that had begun with a broken window.
A seed of hope that just kept growing.
Like the day he put the tire chains on and remembered the roofing spikes for his boots.
She was already under his skin, and he wanted to be ready.
Just in case.
The End