Carefully, she sliced half of it, then one more small, thin slice.
“We’re going to sample,” she said to the dog, who sat hopefully at her feet. “Half for you, half for me.”
She laughed when he licked his lips, then fed him half. Though he all but inhaled it, licked his lips again, she took a careful bite.
“Oh, jeez! It’s good. I think it’s good. No, that’s all,” she added when he whined for more. “For now.”
She arranged the medley of vegetables around the roast, tossed on some sprigs of fresh rosemary. Grabbing her tablet, she took a picture. All but dancing in place herself, she texted it to her mother, to Cleo before hauling the platter into the second oven to stay warm.
“I’m supposed to thicken all this juice into a smooth, thin gravy. I wish I didn’t have to, but if it doesn’t work, we toss it out. Nobody has to know.”
She thought she managed it.
She opened a bottle of red wine to let it breathe, added a pitcher of spring water. Pretty little plates and napkins for the appetizers she’d serve in the kitchen.
Friendly.
She started to go in and light the candles in the dining room, but somebody had beaten her to it.
He, she, they were just trying to be helpful, she told herself. And the assist was worlds better than banging and pounding.
At seven, she set out the charcuterie and turned down the volume on her tablet.
“Music’s fine,” she said to whoever listened, “but we’re going to keep it nice and low. Background.”
She took off her apron, hung it up, then look a long look around.
“It’s going to be fine.”
Still, Yoda’s barks and race to the door just before the sound of the doorbell made her jump.
“Showtime.”
When she reached the door, she pointed at Yoda. “Friends.” Then opened it to Anna and a man a full head taller holding a cake carrier.
Anna moved straight in for a hug. “I just missed you in town yesterday. In the market. And this is Yoda. Hello, handsome. And this handsome’s all mine. Sonya, Seth, Seth, Sonya.”
With his oak brown hair, sculpted features, and hazel eyes, he earned the handsome.
“Nice to finally meet you. Even though you’re partially responsible for Anna working longer hours.”
“Sales are up!” Anna said.
“I think that’s the art and artist’s fault. Let me take your coats.”
“At least one of us was close behind. Saw the headlights. Oh, it’s a convoy of Doyles. We’re never late for dinner.”
Doors slammed upstairs.
“I’m sorry about that.”
Seth glanced up as Anna laid a hand on her belly.
“I visited Collin with Anna a few times, but never heard…”
“I hope you can ignore it. I’m so glad all of you could come.”
Ace and Paula came next, bearing flowers. They made a striking couple, he with his flirtatious smile, she with her easy elegance and short, sleek swing of white hair. Then Deuce and Corrine, who offered a bottle of wine.
Corrine, with eyes of blue steel and silver-streaked black hair, nearly matched her husband’s height.
Then Trey—more flowers—came in behind them, and it occurred to her she should have invited him to bring a plus-one.
But found she couldn’t regret not doing so.
Besides, he’d brought Mookie, who made Yoda delirious with joy.
Within minutes, the kitchen filled with people, voices, flowers, wine.
Something slammed hard overhead.
“Someone’s at it again,” Corrine said easily. “Does it worry you?”
“I’m learning to live with it.”
Corrine nodded, popped an olive. “Can I say—well, I’m going to—the house feels different with you in it. Not like a widower too often alone, but younger and fresher. And sexist or not, just a bit female. So here’s to you. The lady of the manor.”
“Thank you,” Sonya said as glasses lifted. “I love it. I’ll love it even more, I think, when my friend moves in.”
“The illustrator.” Paula nodded and smiled. “We hear all there is to hear.”
“Know all there is to know.” Ace wiggled his eyebrows. “And I know something in here smells good enough to eat.”
“Let’s hope so. I’m not much of a cook.” She gestured toward the dining room. “Ace, please take the head of the table. Trey, could you give me a hand? It’s a big platter.”
When she opened the oven, he took one look, then gave her a long one. “You made that?”