Chapter 31: The Final Chapter

“I need your muscles.” Laura sing-songed to Evan, Matt and Michael. “I especially need yours.” She said, flashing Jet a flirty look.

Jet gave her a drippy smile his eyes following as she walked back into the kitchen. The others ignored her directive and were busy cheering as their football team scored another touchdown.

There was a simultaneous knock at the door and Charlie walked in, carrying a sleeping Buddy. Bruce, who looked just as droopy was instantly snatched by Frieda and smothered with grandmotherly smooches.

Charlie handed Laura their son, entered the small kitchen, opened a lid and sampled the potatoes. Laura slapped his hands away.

“You need to wait.” She admonished.

I stole a glance at Jet, who was doing his level-best to be cool about the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Uh, what did you need?” Jet said, grabbing Laura from behind and blatantly planted a kiss on her cheek.

Laura in her most practical voice, instructed Jet to have the guys bring over the card tables stored in Matt’s garage and set them up. If you were just listening you would presume she was playing drill sergeant. But, if you were watching Laura, you would see her cat green eyes just melting looking into Jet’s.

“When’s the Turkey done?” came a call from one of the football fans in the other room. At least one without a Southern drawl.

“Soon” Dee called from the kitchen. Her cornbread stuffing smelled delicious.

I was having the time of my life. In truth, I had never had an informal Thanksgiving dinner. Ours at home had always been a grand production, with the caterers called in weeks in advance to review the menu. There were be at least one chef and two servers and all thirty seats in our dining room would be full. Formal invitations sent out weeks earlier.

Mother would have fretted over seating arrangements. At home our guests would Daddy’s associates or anyone in the East Bay’s elite Mother was anxious to know. Everyone would be dressed as stuffy as possible. There would be jazz or classical music on in the background, not a football game—especially on such an important day such as this. Just like Mother, everything would be perfect. But, I had come to appreciate a new level of perfection. And, more importantly, I had come to appreciate Mother’s definition of perfection as well.

Although I was banned from the kitchen (Frieda promises to teach me to cook some day), I had found ways to make myself useful, mainly running errands between the kitchen and living room by refreshing beers and replenishing football snacks for the men. Right now, I was I was stationed at the door, ready to open as the guys hauled the tables and chairs over, laughing about something in the male camaraderie sort of way.

To bring you up to speed. Roy and Ed both pled guilty to kidnapping, attempted murder and a litany of other charges. The Catholic guilt got to me a week or so after everything settled down. I read the fine print of my contract with good old Carl, the loan-walrus. It turns out he was a legitimate business after all, and, although Carl owned it, the company still had employees and the ability to conduct business. So, I still owed the money to his company for the engine—which I paid off with the sale of Mr. Daniel’s dump. Someone actually bought that place! I still pinch myself.

Jet did meet with Amy finally. But, I never asked how it went. Honestly, the less I see, hear or smell of Amy, the more sun shines in my life. Last I heard he was also doing loans for the majority of Metro Realty Pros’s agents—who continually rave about him. But he still refuses to give Wendy the time of day.

Last week I got a sweet letter from Lillian, telling me how thankful she was to be able to spend the holidays at her daughter’s home. She loves being so close to her grandchildren (several photos were enclosed). She told me more than once how appreciative she was for her place selling so fast. Frankly, I am not sure it had nothing more to do with luck, timing and the multiple listing service, but what the heck! With the commission money, I paid the State of Nevada (with much more to go).

As you probably guessed, Jet is totally into Laura. I asked him recently how this compares to his tom-cat days. “There is only Laurel,” he said solemnly. And, although Laura would be hard pressed to admit it, she is pretty crazy about Jet. Oh, Laura is a nick-name for Laurel. Go figure.

Laura and I had a lot of talking to do after everything ended. At any rate, other than our adventure, I am not sorry Carl told her to keep an eye on me. I feel bad for Laura for the position Charlie had put her in. Laura refuses to feel sorry for herself. Something I admire in her. She said this is the choices she made and this is where her life took her. She told me for that, she isn’t sorry.

Charlie has turned out to be a spectacular father. Better than I think Laura expected. The boys instantly took to him, welcoming him to their lives. Laura has been very generous with visitation. Charlie is still in a half-way house as part of his parole, but spends every moment he isn’t working, rebuilding the Hacienda, with the boys. Of course, he tests clean each time he takes his mandatory drug-test—which is to be expected, as he was only dealing.

And, for that matter, it wasn’t his first choice for a career. I once asked Laura if there was any chance for the two of them to get back together. She laughed at my question, assuring me she wouldn’t go back to Charlie. “We were never right for each other.” It is true. I don’t see any chemistry. But, I do see they are becoming good friends.

I cannot think of two people more of a match for each other than Dee and Michael. Dee calls it, “second time around syndrome”—a more mature and slower take on romance. But, the often syrupy smile on Dee’s face constantly lets me know me things are going well.

Personally, I think Michael is a sweetheart. His need for being taken care of is only outweighed by Dee’s nurturing disposition. And, I am absolutely thrilled for the two of them. I love watching them together. It is what I expect of two people who have “found each other” to look like. They walk in step, finish each other’s sentences and communicate so much by the subtle expressions on their faces. Michael has hinted there are good things on the horizon for the two of them.

Speaking of good things, Matt and I are great friends. I am not sorry we haven’t gone further. (Ok, maybe a little sorry). There seems to be some unspoken rule between us. It goes like this: at some future unspecified time and day, we will think about perhaps discussing the possibility that maybe we can transition our friendship into something stronger. But, for now we hang out together.

Recently, he jokingly brought up my comment I made last summer about his tush. Mortified, head in my hands, I wished for a time machine so I could just go back and erase that particular episode. He answered my silent humiliation by taking my chin in his hand and saying, “Maybe some day we will both be ready for that.”

Maybe someday.