Turkey for Dinner Part IV

Part IV ~


“What are you doing here so early? We already have a turkey, so we don’t need you. Go take care of your aunt Ida.”
“It’s Eric.”
“What? Aunt Eric?” Cate was confused.
“No. My name is Eric. No one calls me Ricky except Aunt Ida. And she is fine on her own. She’s talking to your grandmother on the phone. She sent me over here to help wrestle the turkey into the oven. I guess she didn’t realize that you were here to help.”
“Nope, no help needed. I’m here. Everything is fine. Come back at two. See you later.” Cate tried to shut the door, but Ricky’s broad frame was in the way. When did he get so big? Cate had only caught a glimpse of him now and then during their teenage years. She looked up into his face. He was a lot better looking than he’d been at twelve, too. “Hey, Ricky, Eric, whoever, I’m trying to shut the door here. How about moving?”
In an instant, Eric was standing in the small entry hall and shutting the door behind him.
“Hey! That’s not what I meant. You’re supposed to be on the other side.” Cate protested.
“Look, Cate, have a heart. Aunt Ida is stewing prunes for breakfast, and if I go back there, she’s going to make me eat them.”
“Have a heart? Why should I?” Cate gave Eric a shove in the general direction of the door, but he didn’t budge. “You didn’t have a heart when you left that pie on my chair.”
“Cate, I didn’t...”
Cate set her feet apart, braced them against the bottom stair and pushed with both hands.
“Oooof. Go home Eric.” She was just getting ready to put her shoulder into it when Gran spoke.
“Well, hello Ricky. I didn’t know you were here,” She came down the narrow stairs into the front hall. Cate stopped pushing and panted.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Miller. Thank you for inviting Aunt Ida and me to dinner.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you. Cate, take Ricky’s coat. Come on into the kitchen and I’ll make some coffee.”
“Gran!” Cate protested as he dumped his coat into her arms. It was warm and smelled like cologne and snow. Cate stifled an urge to pull the coat around her and take a deep breath. “No!” Cate shove the coat at his chest. “Ricky was just leaving.”
Gran didn’t hear here; she was already bustling around in the kitchen, pulling out the coffee and a tin of homemade cookies.
Eric grinned at Cate before he tossed his coat over her head.
“Looks like I’m staying a while. Hang that up for me, will you?”
Cate nearly threw the coat in Eric’s face, but at the last moment, she remembered the mountain of onions waiting to be peeled. A grin spread slowly over her face.
“Fine. If that’s what you want, you can help. Let me find you a knife.”

(c) by Susan Atwood 2007