A Trashy Affair (31 page)

“Four perfect waffles. One for each of our ladies and the last for our guest. Sit down, Merlin. Be at ease. Heath, get the butter while I start another batch. Place your orders for coffee and fresh-squeezed orange juice. After breakfast, pictures and presents!” Roy rubbed his hands together with pretend avarice. “Wait until you see what I got for you, my goddess.” He kissed the top of Kathleen’s silver head.

My goddess, good. Bunnikins, most likely bad. And no escape from learning how classy people celebrated Christmas. Merlin guessed it wasn’t with twelve packs of Bud topped with a red ribbon like the ones he’d left for Harley and Doyle.

Chapter Thirty

After a breakfast that turned into brunch, the ladies scrambled to get dressed before Roy started snapping pictures. Jane reappeared in a soft, clingy forest green cashmere sweater over brown wool slacks, short black boots on her feet and her holly necklace around her throat. Kathleen helped her mother into a ruby velvet pantsuit with a froth of lace at the neck and placed little red gems in her earlobes for the special occasion. Once Ellen had settled on the couch, she went off to don a voluminous caftan of red and gold brocade and wrap her braid into a crown atop her head. She tucked sprigs of real holly snipped from the Christmas decorations into her hair and returned to the parlor looking like the spirit of Christmas Past in all her splendor. As she sat next to her mother, the toes of her flat gold slippers peeked out from under her ensemble. While the gifts were still wrapped Roy, the family shutterbug, snapped a picture of his ladies and one of the Christmas tree.

“Stockings first!” Kathleen announced gleefully.

Merlin, taking a seat next to Jane again, found a long, lumpy hand-knitted red sock fringed with gold balls around the top resting in his lap. The others merrily dumped out small packages from theirs and laid into them. Favorite candies, scented soaps, paperback books, small bottles of perfume and cologne, sacks of premium nuts and exotic teas emerged.

Heath, already unwrapping and indulging in a piece of a chocolate orange, glanced over at the stocking still lying across Merlin’s knees. “Something wrong with yours?” he asked.

“Ah, nope. I didn’t expect anything is all.”

“It’s not much. We didn’t know you were coming until yesterday and with the weather so bad, we had to make do with things around the house,” Kathleen apologized. “Please,” she gestured for him to dump his stocking.

All eyes on him now, he began opening the small gifts: a package of buffalo jerky, some elk sausage sticks, a little box of chocolates, a jar of huckleberry jelly, an obviously used paperback copy of
Jane Eyre,
and, filling most of the heel and toe, a knitted red and white striped wool scarf of some length unfurling endlessly like a magician’s trick.

“This is great, all great. Thank you.”

“I added the
Jane Eyre
last night after I heard you hadn’t read it. I get used copies at the library book sale to give to people and always have a good supply. The jam is mine. I gather my own organic huckleberries. My mother made the scarf. She can’t do fine needlework anymore, but she knits hats and scarves for the homeless.”

Knowing how ridiculous he would look, Merlin wrapped the long, candy-cane striped scarf around his neck. “Love it, ma’am.”

Ellen beamed at him. “Wait until you see what’s under the tree for you.”

He waited with dread while the family exchanged bigger gifts, though they tended toward lovely editions of classic books, DVD sets ordered from Public Broadcasting, and gift cards for museum shops for the women with hunting-fishing sort of stuff for the men like antique lures and certificates for outdoors stores. A bulky package delivered to Merlin revealed a hat and mittens to match his scarf. The cap had a large red pompom on top.

He nodded at Ellen. “Now I’m ready for a Montana winter.” Thank God he would never need to wear the striped ensemble in Louisiana where people knew him as Blackie.

Heath tossed him a box. “From me and Dad. We make and collect them.”

Merlin opened his package to reveal a horn-handled hunting knife with a pretty nice heft and balance. He tossed it from hand to hand. “Sweet,” he said.

“One of our best,” Roy assured him. “You seemed like a man who could appreciate a fine knife. Take good care of it now.”

“I swear I will.”

“Here.” Jane took two packages from under the tree and handed them to the men in her family. “For your collections.”

They unwrapped two small knives with large alligator teeth for handles that obviously pleased them. Jane’s family certainly had more going for it than intellect. Her presents for her mother and granny turned out to be necklaces formed of handcrafted silver gingko leaves.

“Jane, you are unemployed! I do love it, but you shouldn’t have spent the money,” her mother scolded.

“I bought them before my job imploded. Enjoy.”

“One more way back here,” Heath said. “No name on it.”

“For Jane from me.” Merlin winced a little when he confessed that. He’d planned to be miles away by now, safe from any repercussions in his big-ass truck.

Jane smiled at him as if the clumsy wrapping and the stick-on bow outshone every other gift she’d received. Then, she stripped off the paper and stared at the photographs, the one of her and Merlin staring into the fake sunset on top, then the apple blossom extravaganza, and the family grouping.

He felt the need to explain. “Jane and me, we watch the sunset together most nights when it isn’t cloudy. My granny wanted her in the family picture and really liked those apple blossoms for some reason. I mean, I got different photos as gifts for the whole family like one of my mom and stepdad on a beach.” Brittney would be happy with her family picture that excluded Jane, he knew.

“Well, pass them around, Jane,” her mother prompted. “Oh, my,” she said as the frames made their way from her hands to Ellen’s gnarled fingers.

Merlin studied his boot toes. He knew what the Marshalls would see: his mother and sister in their cheap, inappropriate dresses, Harley with all his facial hair still looking like a biker even when he wore a suit, himself pawing their daughter with his big hands around her waist.

Ellen studied one of the photos. “Heath, go into the library and put on my Andrews Sisters’ album. I want
Apple Blossom Time
.” As her grandson left the parlor, she confided. “He installed the sound system all by himself. We can get music in any room, even the bathroom, but Heath is the only one who can operate it.”

Of course, the Marshalls had a library, probably crammed floor to ceiling with books, and a damned good sound system, too. The old sentimental song from the World War II era filled the air. “
I’ll be with you in Apple Blossom Time. I’ll be with you to change your name to mine.
” Ellen’s green eyes grew watery.

“Clayton and I married during apple blossom time, the first one after he came home from the war. They played this at our reception.”

Jane’s eyes misted over, too, but Kathleen let her tears flow and splash on her caftan turning the red brocade dark. “Our apple orchard where Roy and I married will soon be gone, uprooted for condos.”

Helpless before so many emotional women, Merlin said, “I’m-uh…sorry?” not sure if he meant to sympathize with Jane’s mother or apologize for the damn picture that set them all off.

Roy Marshall raised his wife and took her into his arms. “Don’t cry, my lovely. You have one more gift to open.” He took a flat packet from inside his flannel shirt.

Kathleen dried her eyes against his shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Open it and see.”

“A deed?”

“To our orchard. I convinced the owner to parcel out that piece of land for me. It’s too hilly for easy building. The trees are old but still produce. I thought we might open a cidery, plant some new trees, grow a small business as a hobby. The condo developer said he planned to call the street into the place Apple Blossom Lane and needed some real ones to back up the name.”

“Roy Marshall, you are going to get some tonight!” Kathleen embraced her husband and placed a big kiss on his lips.

Heath cringed, but Jane turned toward Merlin with her misty lake green eyes. “Isn’t this perfect?”

“We should drive there after dinner and show the place to Merlin!” Jane’s mother exclaimed.

“You know my hybrid won’t make it up that hill in this weather,” Roy said, shaking his head. “We’d have to dig Heath’s truck out.”

Merlin, uncertain what he’d put in motion, parted the ecru lace curtain over the tall parlor window and checked the depth of the snow where his truck sat. Heath’s vehicle, a modest red single cab, some foreign brand, sat in the driveway up to its axles and capped with a foot of the white stuff, but he and Jane had arrived later in his jacked-up rig.

“You want to go, I’ve got a truck can get you there, ma’am.”

****

The women got busy in the kitchen and produced a full turkey dinner by 2:00 p.m. Naturally, the Marshalls did have a fancy dining room right next to that library. The huge mahogany table with twelve matching chairs and a massive sideboard wouldn’t fit in any normal-sized house. While a centerpiece of all natural greens, berries, and pinecones graced its center, the beeswax candles glowed in many branched silver candelabrums. At least the menu was familiar to Merlin, being nearly a duplicate of the one Jane prepared for him on Thanksgiving right down to the cranberry relish. No foie gras or snails in garlic butter like the rich might eat. He’d tried both once and didn’t much care for either.

“Are you enjoying the turkey, Merlin? It’s wild game. We hung and marinated it in advance,” Kathleen said.

“I know it died happy, ma’am,” he answered. All but a grinning Jane seated next to her grandmother across the table stared at his remark. “I mean being in the great outdoors and free until its last days.”

“When I blew its head off,” Heath added. “No birdshot in this baby. Right, Dad?”

“Yes, we both took the limit. Got a freezer full of them.”

“They’re coming back in Louisiana, mostly in the north part of the state. I’d like another one of those tasty rolls. I’ll bet you made them yourself, Miss Kathleen.” Laying on the butter never hurt according to Jane.

“Oh, you southern boys with your Ma’ams and Misses. Just call me Kathleen. I did make them from scratch and froze them for the occasion. We don’t like to be in the kitchen all day on Christmas. Your choice of fresh apple pie or real pumpkin from our own garden for dessert. Made them yesterday.”

“I must have some of both.”

“I do wish you could stay longer,” Jane’s grandmother said. “With the roads the way they are, you could drive Jane to her job interview in Billings. I’m so hopeful that she will soon live closer to us, and we’ll see her more often.”

“What job interview? I thought we agreed you’d wait and see if the parish would rehire you come the New Year when the recycling program starts up again.” Merlin watched the guilt rise in the form of a blush on Jane’s face from directly across the table.

Next to him, Heath bumped his elbow. “I talked to some people I knew in Billings to get her the interview. Pays more than any parish job. I’m fairly sure my sister will be moving to Montana shortly unless she gets a better offer.”

Merlin took a moment to control his temper. When he spoke, he addressed Jane’s grandmother. “I’m sorry I won’t be here to do that favor for you, Miss Ellen. I have a three-day drive ahead of me, and I’m on duty flying as soon as I get back. She’ll have to call and let me know how that interview goes, yeah.” He shot one of his black glares at Jane, however.

“Time for pie and coffee,” Kathleen said brightly. “Place your orders now. Merlin, I know what you want. How about the rest of you?”

Everyone decided on small pieces of both. Jane and her mother carried in the plates holding the slices garnished with real whipped cream and a dash of cinnamon. Ellen poured coffee from a tall porcelain pot that matched the platinum-rimmed dinnerware and prepared each cup from the cream and sugar set.

“My wedding china,” she told Merlin with a fond smile. “I’m going to leave it to Jane because she will never get any of her own.”

“Because it’s conspicuous consumption, not because she won’t marry,” Kathleen hastened to add. “I certainly never had any.”

After that exchange, the conversation died off. The men cleared the table with Merlin joining right in, but he spoke not a word. Afraid he would break or scratch something, he declined to help with the hand washing and drying of the fine china and silver, but offered to scrub the pots and pans and let the rest of the family digest their meal in the parlor.

Jane stayed in the kitchen with him drying each one as he finished. “What’s wrong, Merlin? You haven’t used even one sexist endearment all day.”

That forced a small smile from him. “So you miss it, sweet thang—or should I say ‘my goddess.’”

“That’s Mom and Dad’s endearment, not ours.”

“Oh, so we exchange endearments, but don’t mention major life changes like moving to Montana, huh?”

“I knew you’d be upset and had no reason to tell you unless they offered me the job. I can’t keep living off you like some Fifties housewife because that is not who I am.”

“Sure you can. You could cook and clean and have my babies and stay home.”

Jane brandished a newly cleaned saucepan at his head. “Say that once more, Merlin Tauzin, and I’ll let you have it.”

Obviously, she missed the joke. He twisted the pot from her hand and set it aside. “If we didn’t have a parlor full of people, I’d carry you upstairs and show you…” How much I love you, but he never got that part out before she verbally attacked.

“Neanderthal!”

Kathleen poked her head in the doorway. “Nearly ready to go to Apple Blossom Hill? Wait until you see how beautiful it is there, Merlin.” She’d changed into tan wool slacks, snow boots, and a long, brown knit tunic with gold embroidery around the neckline and hem, but obviously still rebelled against wearing a bra.

“I’m ready
tout de suite.
Let me get my coat and keys.”

“French, I love that!” Kathleen said as she led them from the kitchen.