My memories of Thanksgiving at the Lester house were foggy, to say the least. I knew there was a turkey, and the big Thursday night game playing in the living room. I also believe that we would have had pumpkin pie with whipped cream, too. Other than that though, nothing. I'm sure I could find some long lost hand turkeys colored in with crayon if I tried hard enough.
Standing in front of a house three times the size of the Russels made my palms sweat. The simple maroon dress, black tights and Mary Janes suddenly felt less than acceptable. The only time I ever crossed paths with Finn's family was at laid back birthday parties and summer barbecues. I knew that they were very well off, but this was more than well off. This place looked like Sleeping Beauty's cottage on steroids. Quint and charming with an air that suggested I wasn't worthy.
"Done gawking," Finn teased, his shoulder bumping mine.
"Not gawking," I mumbled as his mother watched us from the top step. I ducked my head from her gentle stare so I could pretend what I had to say was just between the two of us. "I'm trying to convince myself that this isn't a well disguised lion's den. I'm reconsidering this ridiculous dress and shoes."
"You're cute when you're nervous."
"Not now," I hissed. My eyes drifted to the shoes I hadn't worn in two years then glanced at his mother. "I'm used to deep dish instead of turkey during this holiday, remember? Something tells me that doing whipped cream shots every time the Redskins get a flag will be frowned upon."
"They're harmless," Finn's mother chimed in, taking a few steps toward us. "You wouldn't even know they were related to Conner."
"Zoey should be here, too. Her presence alone will steal all their attention."
"I hope so," I whispered as the two of them flanked me. With his hand on my lower back, Finn gently pushed me toward the three wide, concrete steps that led to a massive pair of wooden doors. His mother winked at me before ringing the doorbell. Seconds later a woman appeared and gestured for us to enter. She took our coats and purses then vanished down one of the many halls.
As we followed Mrs. James, I couldn't help but stare this time. Beautiful oil paintings hung in detailed frames below gallery styled lights. A long narrow table held two vases the size of a standard globe with bouquets of orange and yellow flowers. A candelabra sat in the middle of the table with seven candlesticks that had yet to be lit. I looked over to Finn to find the corner of his mouth twitching.
"It's not funny."
"It kind of is," he chuckled, his hand scratching his jaw to hide his amusement. I was preparing to elbow him when we rounded the corner and I felt every set of eyes in the room land on us. His mother floated into the room and began greeting the in-laws. Finn waited for my feet to unglue before taking a step in his family's direction. He was avoiding the corner of the room where Zoey was waiting. A wicked smirk was painted in red as she watched the initiation process.
I shook hands with gentlemen in tailored suits, air kissed the cheeks of women in pearls and tried not to inhale the collection of perfumes and colognes. One after another, they took their turn giving me compliments and brief hellos. Finn received the same treatment, but with a little more interest. By the time we made it to everyone, Zoey was beaming at us.
"You're officially one of the James' outcasts," she mused, opening her arms to welcome me. When I pulled away, she draped an arm over my shoulders and winked at her cousin. "Well, don't you look spiffy."
"And you look like you're crashing the party."
He was right. The ever vibrant artist was wearing black dress pants with paint clinging to the hem of the legs. Her hands were stained and calloused from her latest project. The navy blue t-shirt looked like it had some smudges of its own, but she hid them but tugging the comfiest looking cardigan tighter around her torso. Her nose scrunched up, making the hoop glint.
"Maybe I am," she answered. She turned to look at me. "When are you two coming back to the studio?"
"Oh, I don't know. Coach practically has us on lock down with State coming up," I rambled.
"Excuse me," a gentleman interrupted us as he passed. "Did I hear you say that you are on the team with Finnegan?"
"Blaine is our second string quarterback, Uncle Robert. She'll be taking over for Shane Russel when he graduates," Finn answered with pride in his voice as he stole me away from his cousin. My arm wrapped around his back as I shrunk into his side. All the attention I got from my position on the team still made me uncomfortable. The way his uncle scanned me with the doubt growing on his amused expression didn't help to settle the nerves.
"Coach Gilly has finally lost his mind," Uncle Robert snorted.
"Hello," Zoey jumped in now. The carefree, femanist was about to lay it out for her darling uncle. "It's the twenty-first century, Uncle Robbie. Women have been to space, become doctors and even won Nobel Prizes. Can you believe that? It's mind blowing what can happen when men let women take control of their own lives."
"You girls can do whatever it is you want."
"Women," Zoey corrected with a stern glare fixed on the old man.
"Right," he cleared his throat nervously. "You women are free to do what you want. Just make sure you have dinner on the table when your husband comes home."
His deep chuckle made my blood boil. Zoey was on the verge of exploding. My fingers curled around the belt loop on Finn's dress pants. They loosened a little when his thumb stroked the small of my back through the dress.
"I thought you said you were going to bring home the bacon, Laine?" Finn's brow might have been furrowed in confusion, but the glimmer in his eye was enough to know it was game time.
"Of course I will. Until you're in that apron, though, I won't be sharing my earnings. Is that clear, mister?"
Uncle Robert cleared his throat while fidgeting anxiously with his necktie. The frustration he was battling was crawling up his neck for all to see. A vein in his temple began to throb. Zoey was kind enough to hide her amusement behind the glass in her hand. Finn kissed the side of my head.
"Whatever you want, woman."
"Where's your old man," a new voice cut through our bantering and I turned to see an older version of Finn's father.
"Stuck at the office I'm afraid." I could his arm stiffen against my back as he spit out the lie with more grace than I'd expected. Not an ounce of hostility could be heard. Knowing him and his mother's feelings, I would have thought one of them would have slipped up. Told his whole family their suspicions and his recent behavior.
"Success is a curse." The man sighed as if nothing in the world could be worse than making six figures yearly and owning the rights to your own business.
If only he knew what the world was really like beyond this gated community, he'd probably blame it on lack of willingness to strive. Like father like son rattled around bitterly in my head as I guiltily looked at Finn. He was nothing like the men in his family. Maybe it was a trait learned in college. A class for the elite at an Ivy League institution. Lucky for me, USC was in a league all its own and nowhere near the James'.
"I've been following your season in the paper. They'll be hanging a plaque beside that big trophy for the record of most rushing yards."
"I don't know, Grandpa. We have to win State first."
"It'll be a shame to see what happens next year. You boys have been a unit since you were knee high. They're going to have to rebuild the program after you graduate."
"Blaine here is going to be one of the leading architects," Finn replied. He gave my back a gentle pat before his hand shifted to settle on my hip.
"Is that so?" He extended his hand to me as if we had met fifteen minutes ago. "I think it's wonderful that so many young women are getting interested in the world of sports."
"It helps when you grew up analyzing film and helping your brother to memorize the playbook."
"Your brother." He pondered the unasked question before pointing a finger at me. "Lucas Lester. Your Henry's daughter."
"You know my dad?"
"Only from passing at the games or around town. How's he doing? I'm sure he's missing you tonight."
"The truth is Mr. James -"
"Gus, please."
"Gus," I nodded with a soft smile, "Thanksgiving is very untraditional in my house. My brother considers a bucket of fried chicken and mashed potatoes out of a box good enough for today."
"Well, let me assure you, Colleen plans one hell of a meal," he offered me his arm, "It seems my grandchildren forgot their manners. Why don't we get you something to drink and you can tell me more about how you are going to help Couch Gilly win State back to back."
"That sounds very tempting, but I'm all his tonight."
"Understood," the man chuckled, smacking his hand on Finn's back. "Make sure you at least show her where the dining room is."
"Twenty minutes," Zoey whispered from my side, loud enough for both of us to hear, "You pissed off Robert the Misogynist and became grandfather's new favorite. I believe that is a new record. Welcome to the family, Lainey."
The purple haired woman gave us a wink then asked by raising her glass if we wanted anything. Finn answered that he'd get us something shortly. She shrugged then sauntered off.
"What do you say to a tour?"
"Do we have enough time? This place is massive."
"We'll skip over the living quarters, and focus on the main features."
"Did you just say living quarters?"
"Only because I wanted to see that look," he mused, kissing my cheek. His hand slipped from my hip, across my back to find my hand. Our fingers laced and he gently nudged me from the room. Each hall we took looked the same. Polished wood paneled walls. Paintings that belonged in a museum. Sculptures and table decor that made little sense to me. I guess when you have more money than you know what to do with, you start to buy random crap that someone said was worth more than a simpleton believed it was worth.