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“Yeah, British,” Irish chimed in. “Where have you been hiding him?”
“I,” British declared, “haven’t been hiding him anywhere. He’s been hanging out at Magnolia Palace.”
Donovan heard the catty tone between the sisters. He waited for British to claim him...yet he still didn’t know why. He’d known women a lot longer than he had her and cared less what they thought of him.
The inside of the Woodburys’ home was not as Christmassy as the outside. A bare tree stood in the corner of the living room to the right. Two women were cleaning off the mantel, placing pictures in a box. Donovan wished he’d seen them. What had British looked like as a child? He pegged her as a tomboy wearing overalls, hunting gear and pigtails. The ladies stopped what they were doing to come and greet the two of them. They each hugged British and introduced themselves to Donovan as the wives of Scots and Finn. Jenny and Scots had been married for ten years, Nicole and Finn fifteen. Two gentlemen came downstairs, complaining about being abandoned in the attic, but stopped once they saw their young sister-in-law. British hugged them and introduced Cree’s and Irish’s husbands, Tom and Robert.
A long table with a fall-themed tablecloth stood in the center of the dining room with a table setting for sixteen.
Joan led them through the dining room into the kitchen with a long bar. Beyond the bar sat a breakfast nook with a table filled with coloring books and crayons. Covered dishes lined the bar. Pots and pans boiled on the flat-topped stove and when Joan leaned over to open the crowded oven, the savory smell of roasting turkey filled the air. Donovan’s stomach growled.
“We have been nibbling all morning,” Joan said to him. She pointed at the credenza in the open space of the family room with different levels of brunch foods ranging from a stack of pancakes, sausage and bacon to waffles and eggs under a clear dome.
The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade played on the wide-screen television mounted on the wall in front of an L-shaped gray couch. A set of matching gray love seats sat against the half wall that led to a staircase to the second floor. An oversize fir tree stood on the opposite side of the room by the sliding-glass doors.
“We’re starving,” said British, taking hold of Donovan’s elbow.
“‘We’?” Cree picked up on her sister’s choice of words.
British glared at her before grabbing a silver-trimmed plate. “Yes ‘we.?
?”
“Donovan...” began Joan. “We know British has been staying at Magnolia Palace with the STEM girls. Have they been bothering your stay in Southwood?”
Donovan accepted a plate from British. “I wouldn’t say bothering me.”
“Please, he’s practically a member of the team by now,” British groaned. They stood side by side in front of the food and when she looked up at him, she winked.
Returning the wink, Donovan bumped her shoulder. “We’re thinking about changing it to Guys Raised in the South, huh?”
Before laughing, British rolled her eyes. “How many times do I have to tell you, Miami is not the South?”
“You’re from Miami?” Joan asked him as she straightened the tablecloth.
“Yes, ma’am,” answered Donovan.
The other Woodbury men came into the kitchen and began quickly snacking and grabbing cookies from a Christmas-tree-shaped, tiered metal tray by the double-door refrigerator. “Stop it,” said Joan, shaking a crayon at them. “You’ll ruin your meal.”
“This meal is taking forever,” said Scots. His wife, Jenny, joined his side and took the cookie away from him.
Donovan fiddled with the plate in his hand and smiled. He missed his family.
“The new guy gets to eat,” Finn pointed out.
“His name is Donovan,” Joan clarified, “and he’s a guest in this home. Next Thanksgiving, he won’t get the same treatment.”
Something about the idea of a return to Southwood filled Donovan with something...good. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been around family before. In fact, British’s family structure resembled Donovan’s, including the constant bantering. When his cousins and siblings joked around, their banter always dealt with the family business. Donovan cocked his head to the side and recalled that most of their exchanges surrounded who did better in their field or who was responsible for sales. British’s family was more relaxed. They teased British about her failed science experiments that had led to the kitchen being remodeled twice. It was clear everyone in British’s family was proud of her. Donovan could get used to this atmosphere.
“Great, more hands to help decorate at midnight,” Scots said. “I’m ready for a nap.”
“So we’re not going hunting tonight?” Finn spoke up.
British slid into her seat at the nook. “If you’re going hunting, does this mean Black Friday shopping is out tomorrow?”
“Black Friday shopping?” Donovan pierced his sausage link with a fork and perked up. “I want to go.”
“No,” said British.
