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She grinned. “Original material. Now, I’m going to go stare at the cheese and crackers and long for days gone by.”
“You and me both,” I muttered as someone or something battered at my kitchen door. Jolene, werewolf strength abounding, threw open the door with her hip and lugged a Coleman chest cooler into my kitchen.
“Either that’s a lot of food or you’re planning a really cheap funeral in my backyard,” I said, eyeing the mansized cooler.
Zeb hefted a tray of mini-quiches onto my counter. “Given your luck this year, do you think you should be joking about that?”
“Duly noted,” I said as Jolene unpacked a ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, and what looked like a twenty-pound deep-fried turkey. “How many people are you planning to feed?”
“Me, Zeb, Mr. Wainwright, your friend Andrea …” she said, ticking off on her fingers. “Do you think I brought enough?”
I held up a two-gallon Tupperware container of yams. “Well, if nothing else, I have some pot pies in my freezer.”
“You have more pot pies?” Jolene cried, looking at the freezer with longing.
“Now you went and ruined her Christmas present.” Zeb grinned.
Gabriel came to the door looking almost festive. He was wearing a dark blue scarf, which may have been the only time I’d ever seen him wear an actual color. He was also carrying a load of packages, several bottles, and a bright pink bakery box.
“You’re all coiffed,” he said, clearly shocked.
“I am capable of cleaning up nice,” I said grumpily.
“Very nice.” He nodded and gave me a friendly peck.
“That was just sad,” a voice behind us drawled. We turned to see Dick, radiant in a holly-green T-shirt that said, “Join me on the naughty list,” carrying presents, a bottle of Boone’s Farm, and a sprig of mistletoe. “I’ve seen old people kiss better than that. Aunt Jettie is kissing Fred better than that right now.”
In honor of the occasion, Jettie and Fred had agreed to let all of the guests see them. I turned to my living room to find that Grandpa Fred had materialized and was, indeed, kissing Aunt Jettie like a character in an old World War II movie.
“Well, that’s just embarrassing,” I said, pushing Gabriel’s packages into Dick’s hands and laying a hell of a smooch on my special vampire fella. “Happy now?”
“Blech, no.” Dick grimaced. “It’s like watching your parents make out.”
Gabriel set his jaw and advanced on Dick.
“OK, River Oaks is neutral ground, you both promised,” I said, standing between the two of them. “Gabriel, please go inside. Help Jolene unpack her movable feast.”
I turned on Dick. “I thought you had plans,” I said, leaning against the door and smirking at him.
“Yeah, well, they fell through. I figured, why not throw you a bone?”
“I’m just not responding to that imagery,” I said as I accepted what could only be termed wine in the strictest sense of the word. “But I’m glad you’re here. Merry Christmas, Dick. You have just enough time to go inside and look cool and unaffected when Andrea comes in.”
Dick perked up.
“But first, a few ground rules. No ‘ho, ho, ho’ jokes. That shirt is the only ‘naughty’ reference you’re allowed tonight. And keep the mistletoe where I can see it,” I said.
“Well, tie my hands, why don’t you?” he grumbled, then scrambled to get inside when he saw Andrea’s car pull onto my drive.
Andrea had volunteered to drive Mr. Wainwright, whose night vision was not what it once was. Neither was his day vision, for that matter. It took Gabriel and me to help him up the steps, but he was determined to carry his own presents and the jar of potpourri he had brought as a hostess gift.
At least, I hoped it was potpourri.
Oddly enough, the first person he greeted when he walked into the living room was my Aunt Jettie, who was confused but flattered. “He can see me?”
“You can see her?” I asked. “I thought vampires were the only ones who could see you; when you decided to grace us with your presence, that is.”
Mr. Wainwright chuckled. “Well of course, I can see her, she’s standing right there. She’s a bit transparent but still visible to those who have a … broader personal perspective.”
