Francine touched his wrist. “No, no, darling, don’t go to any trouble. I’m just happy you remembered the name. Pepparkakor,” she said, as if it were a private joke. Then she clapped her hands and surveyed the efforts of her many slaves. “Are we done here? Yes? Let’s eat, then.”
The gnocchi were thrown into boiling water then divided up into two giant bowls, one tossed with butter and sage, the other with a light tomato sauce. A wooden bowl had an arugula salad, and a platter held a mountain of roasted asparagus. They took plates and served buffet style, then sat at the kitchen table. No candles, no china or silver, no formal place settings. Bread, parmesan cheese and wine bottles went hand to hand, up and down the table. Francine pressed seconds on them. Then thirds. Joe went up an impressive fourth time, sat back down with a tiny portion and ate it in the admiration of his stuffed company.
“Where do you put it all?” David asked, regarding Joe’s trim physique. “Do you have a third leg or something?”
Joe smiled conspiratorially at him. “Beaucoup de place dans la bitte.”
Francine threw her napkin down the length of the table at him, as the boys let out a yell of laughter. Even Erik, who needed no translation.
“He said there’s room in his cock,” Daisy mumbled to Lucky.
Lucky threw up her hands. “Cock? How can you even say ‘cock’ at the same table with your parents? How do you even acknowledge your father has a cock?”
Will choked on his wine and turned away. Francine shrieked with laughter and even Joe, normally so deadpan, had his face in a hand, shoulders quaking.
Lucky patted Daisy, who was sprawled on her, laughing. “Francine, can I come live here?” she asked. “Please? Just let me come live here and eat, curse, make lewd jokes and screw in peace. Honestly…”
“I love you,” Daisy said, gasping, running her knuckle along her streaming eyes. “Oh my God, I love you.” She toppled onto Erik now, giggling. “I love everybody so much…”
Yuletide Carol
Without fail, the Biancos always cut down their Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving.
Snow was in the forecast. Already a cold snap had moved in with a nasty wind chill. Daisy decided to bail. Being outdoors on such a day would make her leg miserable. If she weren’t going, Erik didn’t want to either. Francine, with a mysterious expression, said she had errands to run. Everyone else bundled up, piled into Joe’s truck and headed out. The tree farm was by Sadsbury, which meant they’d be driving through the infamous village of Intercourse. David was beside himself and Joe promised to pull over by the signpost so a picture could be taken.
Daisy went into the kitchen to wash up the lunch dishes. Erik sidled up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, hugging her.
“You’re such a mush,” she said, rubbing her cheek on his head.
“I am,” he said. He moved her hair, kissed her neck, hugged her against him again. He was only having a moment, wanting to hold her, but then Daisy started unbuttoning her shirt. She tilted her head, giving him more of her neck, her fingers finishing the last button and parting the lapels. He slid his palms over her soft skin, unhooking her bra. She turned in his arms and they kissed, groaning open-mouthed with their hands everywhere, seizing it.
She unbuckled and unzipped him, put a hand down his pants. Those strangely disconnected wires came together with a sizzle and he was hard, closed up tight in her fist and wanting. His fingers yanked her jeans open, slid deep and found she was wet, spreading for him, ready.
They kissed and clutched, writhing in a fevered celebration. It hadn’t been this way in a long time. This was good. Possibly this could be great.