Page 29 of A Protector For Phoebe (Love will OUT 2)

Chapter 13

If you can’t bake, fake it with a store-bought cake. ~ Phoebe’s rules for becoming a better person

It’s Thanksgiving and the grocery store is packed. I’ve never been to a grocery store on a holiday before. Every single person in here looks stressed out. To be honest, I’m one of those stressed out beings. I can’t show up at Thanksgiving empty-handed, but what do I bring?

I was shocked when Hailey invited me to Thanksgiving with her family. She’s my boss and friend – dare I say good friend? – but holidays are for family. At least that’s what all the books I’ve read and movies I’ve watched claim. In real life, I have no idea what family gatherings are like first-hand. In Phoebe’s previous life, holidays were all about cultivating business relationships and schmoozing new connections. The children were relegated to the care of the nanny.

Why am I thinking about my past life? It’s done. Over with.

Anyway, Pops has a Thanksgiving meal in the early afternoon with the family including all the uncles. Then, he opens the pub for people who have nowhere to go on the holiday. He’s such a sweetheart. I wish he were my dad.

Enough lollygagging. I need to find something to bring with me. I thought about flowers. But bringing flowers to a pub? Not the best idea. But cake’s a good idea, right? Everyone loves cake, don’t they? If not, more for me.

I stare at the endless number of cakes in the long ass aisle in the grocery store with no idea what to buy. I’ve never bought a cake in a grocery store before. To be honest, I’ve never bought a cake period. If I wanted a cake in my previous life, I had the cook make one. But old Phoebe is no more. New Phoebe doesn’t have a cook and has exactly twenty dollars to spend if she skips lunch for the next week. Screw it. I grab the cake closest to twenty dollars. Done.

Chaos reigns when I open the door to McGraw’s Pub thirty minutes later. The uncles are moving the tables, while Suzie bounces around directing them. They ignore her. As they should. Pops is yelling at the turkey in the kitchen, and Hailey and Aiden are making out in one of the booths.

I stand in the entryway for a few minutes before Suzie notices me and skips over. “What did you bring?” She grabs the cake before I have a chance to tell her. “Oh, chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting. Good choice.” She runs off with my cake. I dash after her.

“Dessert is served!” she shouts as she enters the kitchen where a tornado appears to have touched down. I’ve never been in here before, but I can’t imagine, the usual cook, Carol leaves it such a mess.

“Um… do you need help?” Although he’s taking his own life in his hands if he asks me to help cook.

“Darling.” Pops sets down the spoon he was using to stir a pot on the stove and comes over to kiss my cheek. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

I beam up at him. “Happy Thanksgiving. I brought a cake.” Oh shoot. Do you announce your gift? Did I make another faux pas?

“Thanks, darling. Now, get out there, grab a drink, and go enjoy yourself.”

My eyes rove around the kitchen once more. “You sure you don’t need help?”

He doesn’t bother to respond and walks back to the stove. I guess that’s a no then.

I walk back into the pub to see the uncles have moved all the tables to create one long table, which Hailey and Suzie are setting. When Suzie sees me, she drops the bundle of silverware in her hand and skips to me. Does she not realize skipping is for children? Not grown women? I shake my head to evict my mother’s voice. Darn woman doesn’t pay rent, she needs to leave.

“Where’s Ryker?”

I’m confused. “What do you mean where’s Ryker?”

“You didn’t invite him?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Suzie rolls her eyes. “Duh. You always invite the boyfriend to Thanksgiving. Don’t you know anything about celebrating holidays?”

Actually, no, but she doesn’t need any more clues about my past. She’s way too curious about it as is. My past life is part of ancient history. Nothing she needs to know about. And, anyway, Ryker isn’t my boyfriend. We’ve been on exactly one non-date. I may be inexperienced in relationships, but I know one non-date does not a boyfriend make.

Before she can quiz me further, Pops walks out of the kitchen carrying a huge turkey. My eyes widen. How many people is he expecting?

“He makes turkey sandwiches from the leftovers for the pub tonight,” Hailey answers my unasked question.

We gather around the table as Pops brings dish after dish out of the kitchen. There’s mashed potatoes, green beans, cranberry sauce, and a whole bunch of other stuff I’ve never seen before. It smells and looks delicious. My stomach rumbles and I may be drooling.

My previous Thanksgiving meals were always catered affairs with tiny bites you could eat while standing up. I usually ended up raiding the kitchen for a sandwich, which drove my mother to distraction. A lady does not spend time in the kitchen. Why not? Because was always her answer. As if ‘because’ alone can be an answer. I’m done with her rules, I remind myself.

Once we’re settled, the food starts circulating and everyone digs in. The uncles are sitting on one side of the table, while the rest of us sit across from them. Barney has a smirk on his face, and he keeps sending furtive glances toward Pops. I’d ask what he’s up to, but I’m afraid of the answer.

Someone lets off a stream of gas. I keep eating and pretend I didn’t hear. Mother always taught me to ignore bodily functions and noises. On this, I agree with her. No sense embarrassing someone over something they can’t help.

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