Family Fruitcake Frenzy Page 9

“Oh. Hey there.”

  “Listen! We’ve got a situation here at Laverne’s.”

  “Uh oh. Is the old bird okay?”

  “Yes. But the turkey’s on lockdown.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE SWEATY, FRECKLED, elf-man grunted and groaned as he pulled the oven way from the wall, unplugged it, and removed several strange-looking metallic parts from the back of it. Winky scratched his arm with a screwdriver and made his diagnosis.

  “We’re gonna have to let her ride.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Winky looked up from his seated position on the floor next to the stove. “I’ve done all I can do, Val. We’re just gonna have to wait ‘til the oven cools down enough for the lockin’ mechanism to release on its own.”

  “Not good.”

  In the time since Laverne and I had called Winky for help, a dull grey smoke had begun to pour from the center of one of the stove’s cooking elements. It had the aroma of charred metal.

  “What about all the smoke?” I asked.

  Winky shrugged. “Open the winders.” Winky grunted and pulled himself to standing. “I figure it’s over 800 degrees in that there oven by now. Good thing is, now that it ain’t got no current no more, the temperature’s got nowheres to go but down.”

  “Thank you, Winky, hon,” Laverne said. She hugged him and went over to open the kitchen window and let in the flies.

  Winky tipped his Santa hat. “I’ll be at the mayor’s if you need me.” As he said the word “mayor,” he puffed out his chest. “All right if we drop by your place to clean up afterwards, Val? We been workin’ our hind-ends off all week. It’d be nice to save the ride all the way back to Jorge’s before dinner tonight.”

  I cringed at the prospect of three dirty elves molesting my bathroom. “Sure. No problem.”

  “All righty then, I’m off.” Winky turned, took a step toward the front door, then turned back around. “Oh, Val? I’ve been so gaul-darn busy with the Christmas light stuff that I hat’n had no time to fix the van. Winnie and me was plannin’ to head up to see my family up near Lake City tomorrow. Any chance we could hitch a ride with you and Tom?”

  “I...uh...don’t see why not. I’ll talk to Tom about it.”

  “Much obliged.” Winky smiled and headed out the front door.

  Laverne smiled sweetly. “The way you two take care of each other, you’d think you were brother and sister.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Not likely, Laverne. Nobody in my family is that nice.”

  Laverne bit her lip, then frowned with guilt. “I’m sorry about the turkey, Val. I should have called you before I put it on to bake.”

  I shook my head. “No. It’s my fault. I should have come over earlier. I know you’re doing your best, Laverne. Now, don’t worry about it. Everybody’s bringing something to eat. It’ll all work out.”

  Laverne’s guilty look took on a tinge of hopefulness. “You think so?”

  “Sure. I’ll be back around six to help you finish up. In the meantime, if the stove bursts into flames or something, call me, okay?”

  “Okay,” Laverne nodded.

  WHEN I GOT BACK TO my place, I checked my phone. There was a text from Winky.

  “Plan B, pick up some fried chicken.”

  I texted back a smiley face and headed for the bathroom. I smelled of smoke and desperation. Not a particularly appealing combination.

  I showered and slipped into a paisley patterned sundress with red shoulder straps and three crimson buttons down the front. Even though it was December 20, the days had barely begun to dip into the 70s. I rifled through a drawer and dug out my only sweater in case, by some miracle, it got cool enough to need it. I’d finished blow-drying my hair and brushing on a little makeup when the guys arrived. They looked like three worn-out garden gnomes.

  “You guys be gentle with the facilities, okay?” I half-joked, then grabbed one of the fruitcakes out of the fridge and went to help Laverne.

  Laverne came to the door in a flowing white gown that stopped at her ankles to show off her gold spike heels. Her dress and hair reminded me of a movie star pinup from the 1940s. But despite her regal appearance, she fretted and pranced around me like a nervous Nelly. I’d never seen her so out of sorts.

  “Laverne! What’s gotten into you?” I asked.

  “I used to hold fancy dinner parties in Vegas for the big wigs,” Laverne confessed. “But that was so long ago I can’t even remember the difference between a salad fork and a steak knife.”

  She led me to the table she’d laid out for us. It was stunning. Spode Christmas plates and red-stemmed wine glasses rested neatly on a beautiful red, green and gold plaid tablecloth. Green cloth napkins stood like small Christmas trees in the center of each plate. A pot of miniature poinsettias in a gold container served as the centerpiece, flanked by a pair of silver candelabras.

  “Wow. This is fancy, Laverne! Like dinner at the Vanderbilt’s!”

  Laverne blushed. “It’s not that fancy.”

  “Hey, you’re using real plates. For most of us, that’s a special occasion.”

  Laverne grinned. “At my age, being alive is a special occasion.”

  I laughed and hugged Laverne. “Relax. Everything is beautiful. Including you. You look like a film star in that dress! Now tell me, is there anything else that needs doing?”

  Laverne beamed. “Well, I’ve still got to get the cranberry sauce out of the cans.”

  “I better do it. I’d hate for you to get a spot on that nice, white dress. Take a tip from me,” I winked. “Wear patterned clothes to dinner. Hides the food stains.”

  The doorbell rang. I raised an eyebrow at Laverne. “Somebody’s early. Are you ready, hostess with the mostess?”

  Laverne grinned. “I think so.” She strolled to the door and opened it with panache. Tom stood in the doorway holding a bottle of wine in one hand, a tub of mashed potatoes in the other. “This is for you, lovely lady,” Tom said, and handed off the wine to Laverne. I felt a surge of pride, and smiled at Tom in a way I hoped conveyed it.

  “Why, thank you, sweetheart!” Laverne gushed. “Come on in the kitchen with those potatoes. I’ll set them on the oven to keep warm.” Laverne winked at me as she passed. I felt a warm glow inside me that grew even warmer as Tom brushed a kiss on my cheek.

  The doorbell rang again. This time I answered it. Cold Cuts arrived with a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful covered dish. Crap! All I brought was my ugly little fruitcake. “You’re making me look bad,” I said.

  “No way, Val. You’re gorgeous.”

  I grinned. “You, too, kiddo.”

  Cold Cuts smiled smugly. “I know.”

  We laughed and hugged each other, then went into the kitchen where Laverne was handing Tom a can opener. “You sure you know how to use that thing?” she asked.

  Tom grinned. “Ma’am, if I didn’t, I’d have starved to death a long time ago.”

  Laverne cackled with laughter. I heard a knock at the door and went back to find the Three X-migos had arrived, fresh from the showers and, to my disappointment, without their Santa caps. Jorge was holding a huge, rectangular container made of aluminum. The top was covered in foil. “Where should I put this?” he asked.

  “Hi, you guys! I’ll take that,” Laverne said from behind me.

  “No ma’am,” Jorge said. “It’s heavy. I’ll follow you to the kitchen.” Jorge kissed Laverne on the cheek. She flashed her pearly white dentures and blushed.

  “What’s in the container?” I asked Winky as Jorge passed by.

  He shrugged. “Dunno. Jorge said it was a recipe of his papa’s.”

  “Where’s Winny?”

  “She had to work. But she’ll be here soon.”

  My phone buzzed. It was a text from Milly. I walked into the kitchen and made the announcement. “Milly says she and Vance are running late and we should start without them.”

  “Nonsense,” Laverne said. “We’ll wait a few mor
e minutes. Anyone want a glass of wine?”

  “Sure!” our voices mingled into one.

  Tom popped the cork on a bottle of wine while Winky entertained us with his one-redneck stand-up routine.

  “What do you call an alligator detective?” Winky asked.

  “I don’t know. What?” Laverne asked.

  “An in-vest a gator.”

  Laverne giggled like a little girl. It was all the encouragement Winky needed to continue.

  “What did stuttering Santa say when Rudolf wanted to hire a prostitute?”

  “What?” Cold Cuts asked.

  “Just say no no no to the ho ho ho.”

  I groaned, then laughed despite myself. “That was awful, Winky. Don’t be giving Tom any ideas. His jokes are bad enough already.”

  I looked over at Tom. He feigned a hound-dog pout and pulled the cork from a wine bottle with a ‘pop.’

  “You didn’t think that was funny, Val?” Winky asked. He hung his head. “Well, on a sad note, I runned over a deer on the way home last night.”

  “That’s awful!” Laverne said. “Did you kill it?”

  “No. I knocked it about twenty feet up in the air. When it come down, its leg was busted, but the red light on his nose was still working fine.”

  Cold Cuts and I looked at each other and groaned. Winky pointed his finger at us like a gun. “Got’cha!”

  Laverne handed out the glasses of wine while Tom poured. She pulled a cold drink out of the fridge for Jorge.

  “Everybody have something to toast with?” she asked.

  “Yes!” We held up our glasses.

  “To family,” Laverne said.

  A knot clotted my throat. Everyone looked around and smiled merrily at each other and echoed her toast. “To family!”

  Before I could clear the knot to speak, Winky beat me to it.

  “Let’s eat!” he hollered. “I’m hungry as a newborn tapeworm.”

  Yuck! There went my appetite.

  “Everybody grab your side dish and take it to the table,” Tom commanded. Like dutiful children, we all assembled around Laverne’s beautiful table. Tom took the cover off his dish of mashed potatoes. They looked especially lumpy. I shot him a grin. Cold Cuts grimaced and opened her container. It was full of mashed potatoes, too.

  “Dang!” Winky said. “Oh well. At least we got Jorge’s papa’s stuff.”

  Jorge peeled away the foil covering his container. “Lo siento. It’s purée de pappas. That’s Spanish for mashed potatoes.”

  Cold Cuts burst out laughing. Her contagious giggle spread like wildfire around the table.

  “We’ve also got cranberry sauce,” Tom piped up.

  “And fruitcake!” I added.

  “Then I suggest we partake, before the potatoes get cold,” Goober said.

  We all settled into our seats around the table. Winky plopped a heaping spoonful of Cold Cuts’ potatoes onto his plate when the doorbell rang.

  “Ain’t that always the way?” he griped, then grinned.

  Before anyone could get up, the front door opened with a squeak. A second later, Vance and Milly appeared, holding a bottle of wine and a covered dish.

  “What did you bring?” Winky hollered. “Not smashed taters, I hope.”

  “No,” said Vance.

  Everyone sighed with relief.

  “I brought my mother’s specialty,” Vance continued. “New England boiled red-skin potatoes!”

  “Gaul-dang it!” Winky hollered.

  Everyone around the table burst out laughing. Milly and Vance took a look at the other offerings and shrugged. “Ooops!”

  “Please, take a seat,” Laverne said.

  “Should we say a prayer before we eat?” Jorge asked as Milly and Vance scooted in around the table.

  “Yeah.” Winky sneered. “And one after!”

  CLICK.

  The sound echoed from the kitchen. Everyone went silent.

  “It’s the dad-burned turkey!” Winky cried out.

  Winky jumped up and ran into the kitchen like his short, ginger buzz-cut was on fire. We all scrambled to our feet and assembled like a hungry mob around the perimeters of the kitchen. We stared in morbid anticipation as Winky prepared to do battle with the beast in Laverne’s oven. For armor, he chose a reindeer-motif dishtowel. He wrapped it around his head like a turban, then slid his hands into two fluffy snowman oven mitts. He positioned himself in front of the stove door like a baseball catcher.

  “Stand back ever’body, I’m goin’ in!”

  Winky snatched open the door. A plume of black smoke enveloped him. We all coughed and waved our hands around. When the smoke cleared, Winky was standing there holding two charred, black lumps in his oven mitts.

  Winky laughed. “Hey Goober, looks like Santa left your lumps a coal here by accident.”

  Goober grimaced. “What in the world are those?”

  “Baked potatoes,” Laverne confessed sheepishly.

  Her admission sparked a round of roaring laughter. As I wiped tears from my eyes, Winky pulled a large, smoking, black heap from the oven. He heaved the pan onto the stove top, then stood at arm’s length away from it. He pulled back the first layer of blackened foil as if it might detonate. But it didn’t. Instead, the layers of foil had acted like the heat shield on a space shuttle. Inside, the turkey had cooked to perfection, its skin a perfect shade of golden brown. We all cheered.

  “It’s a Christmas miracle!” Jorge yelled.

  “Waah hoo!” Winky cheered.

  “Hallelujah,” Goober deadpanned.

  Later, as we passed around the platter heaped high with carved dark and light meat, we all agreed it was the best darn turkey we’d ever tasted. When it was time to cut the fruitcake, we were stuffed to the gills with good food and good cheer. When I passed around the slices, I handed Jorge a pudding cup instead.

  “Sorry, Jorge,” I whispered. “But the cake is full of booze.”

  Jorge smiled. “No problem, Val. I hate fruitcake. But I love chocolate pudding.”

  Winky shot me a jealous look. “You got any more a them? I ain’t too fond a fruitcakes, myself.”

  “You could always take a self-help class,” Goober said sarcastically.

  Winky didn’t get the joke.

  AFTER DESSERT, WINKY tapped on a glass with a knife to get our attention.

  “First off, I want to say that this meal, especially the turkey, was lammin’ shore good.”

  Everyone cheered.

  “Second, I want to thank Laverne and Val for their support of the Three X-Migos.” Winky and Goober and Jorge nodded at us, their faces shining with gratitude.

  “And third, I want to invite ever’body outside for the after-dinner, light-time spectacular.”

  “What’s that?” Laverne asked.

  “We’re gonna plug in your Christmas lights,” Jorge said.

  Laverne’s eyes lit up. She clasped her hands together and yelled, “Oh, goody!”

  Like stuffed partridges, we all waddled out in a line and assembled on the lawn in front of Laverne’s house.

  “Hit it!” Winky instructed.

  From inside the garage, Goober and Jorge got busy plugging extension cords into sockets. Laverne’s roof lit up like a searchlight.

  On the right side of her roof, outlined in a string of lights, the figure of Santa stood next to some kind of contraption. Shifting rows of red and white lights in the outline of an arm made it appear as if Santa was raising and lowering his arm, shifting a lever on the machine. Every time his arm went down, the numbers “777” flashed. The word “Jackpot” illuminated on the left side of the roof, and the outline of three reindeer lit up. Each kicked up a leg and danced a chorus-line cancan.

  “Oh my lord,” Laverne cried out. “Boys, you’ve outdone yourself! That’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen this side of Vegas!”

  To be honest, it truly was something to behold. We all stood and watched it go through its cycle a dozen more times. Santa always hi
t the jackpot. The reindeer always danced.

  After a few minutes, Winky spoke up, breaking the silence.

  “Now for Val’s place,” he said, and shot me a sly grin.

  “This ought to be good,” Tom said. He kissed me and locked his arm in mine. We strolled behind Winky as he picked his way across the lawn to the front of my house. I realized the tarp was gone from my roof. But it was too dark to make out anything else. Tom pulled me close as Goober and Winky disappeared into my garage.

  “Now!” hollered Winky.

  The roof lit up. Patches of colored lights outlined a woman in a bathing suit lounging in a beach chair. Her right arm moved toward a beer can in her left hand. Lines of white lights appeared to shoot from the can she was holding, as if she’d pulled the tab top on it. As the spray of white lights crossed the roof, the lines blinked out. Stars blinked on, and a message illuminated below them. “Glad Tidings to All.”

  My ears grew hot and I burst into tears. I buried my face in Tom’s chest and sobbed. Tom rubbed my back and hugged me to him.

  “Are you okay, Val?” I heard Jorge’s voice ask at my right side.

  “We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Winky said from the left.

  “It’s all a bit dramatic, if you ask me,” Goober chimed in.

  Goober’s comment made me laugh through my tears. I turned my head from Tom’s chest and faced the men.

  “Oh, guys! My feelings aren’t hurt. Not at all. They’re...they’re just...overflowing.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  WHOEVER WROTE THAT holiday song, It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, wasn’t kin to the Jolly clan. I hadn’t felt this much dread since I’d dropped my taxes off to be calculated by Vinny of Vinny’s Discount Tax Filing, Bail Bonds and Cat Boarding.

  I stuffed a frumpy, blue-flannel nightgown into my suitcase and zipped it closed. I didn’t know why, but the thought of looking sexy anywhere within a fifty-mile radius of my mother made my skin crawl. I lugged the suitcase into the living room and perked another cappuccino. The first sip had just touched my tongue when Tom pulled up. Bless his heart. He was wearing a flannel shirt tucked into his pressed blue jeans. My heart smiled at his effort. He wanted to blend in in Hicksville.