Chapter 22
BYRON
Before arriving at my parents’house, my mother warned me they were going all out this year and making it special. Every year, there is an abundance of food, so I wasn’t sure what Mom had planned until now.
Seated at the table beside Brandon, his open mouth tells me he is equally stunned as we read the menu on the table.
Main
Whole turkey with seafood bread stuffing (Alaskan king crab, Maine lobster, Southern Bluefin tuna otoro, and golden caviar from the Caspian Sea),
seasoned with imported saffron and spices and covered in edible gold flakes
Sides
Candied sweet potatoes andbutternut squash seasoned with spices from India
Caramelized onions with spices from Egypt
Sauces
Cranberry sauce with Sembikiya Queen strawberries and dekopon citrus from Japan
Asparagus vinaigrette with Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve Bourbon
Gravy infused with Louis XIII Cognac
Dessert
Pumpkin and pecan pies with apple and coconut custard
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath to Brandon. “We’ll need to train five times a day to be ready for our next game.”
“In three days, we’ll still be over the limit to drive,” he whispers as Dad stands with Franklin’s favorite bottle of Michter’s whiskey.
“Byron,” Dad says in his deep, authoritarian voice. “Would you like a glass?”
Is this a test? I always feel it is with him being the controlling owner of our basketball team. “No thanks. I’ll stick with water.”
“Brandon?”
“No thanks, Mr. Hendricks.”
“Lola, could you please bring in some iced water?” Mom asks and smiles at me. She stands at the table and reaches for Dad’s hand. “We’re so happy you can all be here to join our family for a very special Thanksgiving, our first as grandparents.” She looks at Penny’s parents and smiles. Her parents have been part of our Thanksgiving for the past four years. “We decided to make it a special one to celebrate, even though Summer is sleeping.”
“She didn’t last night,” Franklin says under his breath, and Penny elbows him. I grin at Penny across the table from me. She keeps Franklin real.
“After talking to Lacey…” she looks at Penny’s mom, “… we decided next year we’ll have a smaller lunch after we volunteer at a soup kitchen.” Mom looks at her, pride shining in her eyes.
Say what? My mother working in a soup kitchen?—
“While I enjoy fundraising and the galas, Lacey has shown me the benefits of helping other charities, especially those that support the homeless. I hope you all can join us for a few hours next year before coming home to be truly thankful for our blessings.”
“Wow,” Jobe murmurs. “I never thought I’d see the day you would fundraise without being in a ballgown and bling. I’m proud of you, Mom.” He stands and rounds the table to hug her. One by one, we all stand, too, rounding the table to hug Mom, Dad, and Penny’s parents.
“Oh please, you’ll make me cry and mess my makeup,” Mom says as she hugs us. We return to our seats, and I note the extra seats at the end of the table. She never mentioned any other visitors.
“Let us pray,” she whispers. We link hands since Mom has always asked this of us. I regret sitting next to Brandon as I hold his sweaty hand. “Lord, thank you for all the blessings you grant us every day. May you bless this food, and may it nourish and sustain us and strengthen our hearts and minds to do your work. Thank you for surrounding us with family and friends and for guiding us toward gratitude today and every day. Amen.”
“Amen.”
Lola serves the food. “Lola, we can manage. Please, you and Sergio should join us and enjoy the meal.”
Lola looks stunned, though she is not as surprised as me. After working with us for as long as I can remember, even when I was a child, Lola and our chef, Sergio, have never sat with us. Penny’s parents’ thrifty and charitable lifestyle seems to have influenced my parents. She has no idea how happy this makes me. It offers me hope that next year, Giana’s parents could be sitting here at the table with my family.
Jobe left Thanksgiving early,saying he had work.
“I should also go.” I stand from my chair in the sitting room. Franklin and Dad have had their fill of whiskey, and the conversation has shifted to the stock market.
I say my goodbyes, and Mom walks me to the front entrance. We stand in the foyer under her chandelier. She hugs me tight before leaning back and staring into my eyes. I know this look. She always gives it right before she lectures us on life.
“I’m proud of you, Byron.”
Okay, maybe not a lecture.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I am, and I’m extremely happy you are going to take some time to spend with Giana’s family.”
“I… didn’t say I was.”
“It’s written all over your face.” She looks lovingly at me. “She is good for you.”
I grin. “I could be good for her.”
She smiles, the creases deepening around her eyes. “I’m sure you are. Don’t fight this, son. Roll with whatever challenges are handed out. No relationship is easy, and both of you must give and take equally.” Does she know something I don’t? “We don’t get to choose who our heart loves, and I’ve noticed you are invested in this relationship.”
I give my mother a questioning look.
“Dropping everything to rush to her side in Italy? Volunteering to miss a game of basketball is unheard of for you, yet you did it without thinking, for her.” Who has she been talking to? “And the idea of purchasing your own jet…” She grins at me. “I love your passion.” Penny. “It reminds me of your father when we first met. He was quite the romantic.” I can’t imagine it. “Promise me you’ll treat this like you do basketball. When it gets tough, don’t give up. Be better. Think smarter. It’s the best way to navigate a relationship.”
I lean in and kiss her. “Thank you.” Before I open the door, my mother speaks again.
“I think she’s the one, Byron.”
My hand freezes on the handle. I turn and give my mother a look, failing to hide the fear of knowing it could be true. Not that I don’t want it to be. More that it is true, and there is a chance I could lose her again.