Page 33 of A Tinsel Tale

“Doing what he does best,” I agree. “Let’s go eat pizza and decorate us a tree.”

Dad gets situated in his recliner and Gwen serves him a plate with several slices of pizza. “What do you want to drink, Bill?” Gwen asks.

“How about some cider?”

“Sounds good,” she says. Dad watches as Gwen walks back to the kitchen area to grab his drink. She looks sharp and classy in her dark denim blue jeans and oversized light-yellow sweater. She is trim and shapely, the sweater accentuating her dark eyes. Her hair is pulled up in a chignon. Very elegant. She is beautiful, really. When she looks at my dad, I can tell she, at least, is way past the friend zone. Scratch that. When I see the way they look at each other, they’ve both crossed over that bridge. Dad just needs time to catch up with himself.

Jamie and I lock eyes and I know he’s thinking the same thing. I swear it’s like we’ve never been apart in some ways. He could always read my mind back then. “Hey, Chicago, how many slices do you want?”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” I say, approaching the pizza.

“I want to,” he says sweetly.

My heart is doing funny things in my chest. I know if we were alone right now, we’d be in danger of ripping each other’s clothes off. I sigh and relent. “Three pieces please. And lots of paper towels.”

He tsks. “I remember that about you. Very messy.”

I push him lightly. “Am not. Pizza is messy, not me.”

“I only need one square of Bounty. I’ll bet you a dollar you need a half dozen.”

“Whatever,” I say and return to sit on the couch next to Gwen. The dogs have roused from their inertia and are now begging adorably from an acceptable distance of three feet away. Jamie hands me a plate and an entire roll of paper towels then sits down next to me. We’re all facing the tree and fireplace. It’s cozy and companionable. “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer”by Harry Connick Jr. starts playing, and I sing aloud, calling out the reindeer’s names. As I sing, I pick up a few carolers… my dad first, then Gwen and finally Jamie. We sing until we get to the shiny nose part then the pizza reigns supreme.

I take my first bite of pie and moan. “Gino’s has the very best pizza. Even better than Chicago pizza,” I say with a mouthful. Jamie nods in agreement while taking half the slice in one bite.

“When I was growing up in Chicago, my dad owned a pizza parlor,” Gwen shares.

“Are you Italian, then?” I ask.

“Half. My father was Italian, and my mother was Welsh.”

“How did you wind up here?” Jamie asks.

“My husband and I came here on vacation and fell in love with the town and lake living, then when he retired, we bought a house and moved here. We had five beautiful years here before he died.”

“Do you have any children?” I ask.

“Three. Two sons and a daughter. They all live right outside of Chicago. I haven’t convinced them to move here yet. My youngest daughter keeps trying to get me to move in with them. My grandchildren are in on the coercion. But I keep saying no. I like it here too much to leave. Plus, I like my independence.”

Dad and Gwen exchange a look. Dad says, “I’m glad you’re here.” She reaches over and squeezes his hand. I inwardly sigh. I can totally see them together.

When we finish eating, Jamie makes a production of counting the crumpled paper towels on my plate as he adds them up. “One, two, three, four… Lord, save a tree, five!”

“Save a tree?” I whoop indignantly. “You own a Christmas tree farm!” We all laugh.

He shrugs. “Sounded good. Plus, we replant what we cut down and then some.”

“Thirty lashes with a wet noodle,” Gwen says. “Are we ready to tackle the tree?”

18

JAMIE

Ireach down to take the Christmas ornament Evie is handing up to me.

“This is one of my favorites,” she says on a sigh.

I examine the blown glass penguin wearing winter gear and skis. “I remember this one,” I say.

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