Tornado_A Paranormal Romance Page 15

  “We had to postpone it,” he replied, returning her smile. “She had to attend a meeting at the university where she teaches. We rescheduled for next week.”

  “That’s good,” Asha said, nodding. “I hope this one works out for you.”

  “So do I,” he said. He found himself appreciating the way her lipstick matched her coat but in a darker shade, making her mouth look like ripe berries.

  From the counter, he heard someone call out, “Now serving fifty-five!” and the line advanced by a couple of feet.

  “So, big day tomorrow for you?” Asha asked.

  “Ah, no,” Seph confessed. “Father was from England, so he never really got into the American traditions of Thanksgiving. We make up for it by getting together for Christmas. My turkey dinner tomorrow will be in the form of sandwiches.” He nodded to the display cases. “They have a really good smoked turkey breast, here, but I’m also partial to the Black Forest ham.”

  “All right, stop,” Asha said, holding up a hand. She looked Seph right in the eye. “You mean to tell me you plan to spend Thanksgiving eating sandwiches? Are you going to be alone, as well?”

  He shrugged. “Well…yeah…”

  “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head. “Mm-mm. No.” Pulling her purse around, she opened it and pulled out her phone. “I don’t know what kind of family you come from, Mr. Vovin, but as for me? I come from one that believes no one should be alone on any of the major holidays.” She tapped at the screen, her French tips clicking gently against the glass. “I’ve got your contact information, so I’m going to send you the address and directions to my aunt’s house – that’s where we’re all getting together tomorrow for dinner.”

  Seph blinked in surprise and laughed. “Hang on,” he said. “You don’t have to do that.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “And why not?”

  “Well, for one thing, your family doesn’t even know me,” Seph said. “I’m a complete stranger to them.”

  Asha rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said, and waved her phone. “One year, my uncle invited some roofers working on his neighbor’s garage when he found out not one of them had anywhere to go for Thanksgiving.” She flicked her hand at Seph in a dismissive manner. “Do not worry about it. You’ll be there as my guest. I’ll introduce you to everyone, and then you won’t be a stranger anymore. Simple as that.”

  Seph had to admire her ability to take control of any situation. He had always liked strong women. He also liked the way Asha would sigh and shake her head at him every time he came in to say his dates didn’t work out, wagging a finger while calling him her ‘problem child.’ “What if I can’t make it?” he asked. “I mean, what if I have…other plans?”

  She leveled a stern gaze on him. “Do you have any other plans?” she asked, point-blank.

  Seph rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “No,” he admitted, “but I meant in case something comes up. Would you be upset if I had to cancel?”

  “Only if it’s a legitimate reason,” she replied. “Look – your family aside —when was the last time you did anything special for Thanksgiving? I’m talking in the last five to ten years. Be honest, now, because I can always tell when someone is feeding me a line; it’s part of my job.”

  He chuckled and looked down at the toes of his own boots. “Um…never,” he said. He buried his hands in the pockets of his fleece-lined coat and shook his head. “I always just saw it as a time to be alone.”

  “Well, you’d better start changing that way of looking at it,” Asha told him. “What are you going to do if you find yourself a mate who considers this one of the most important days of the whole year? Think of dinner with my family as a practice run for what you can expect, if your future wife believes in Thanksgiving celebrations.”

  He chuckled. “All right, all right,” he said, raising his arms in surrender. “I’ll come to your aunt’s house for dinner.”

  “Now serving fifty-six!” the man at the counter called out.

  “Perfect,” Asha said, beaming with triumph. “We usually sit down to eat around three o’clock, but I’d recommend arriving around 1PM. That will give you an opportunity to meet everyone, have some cider and hors d’oeuvres – and grab a good seat for the big feast.”

  “Sounds good,” Seph said. “So, what should I bring?”

  “Just your appetite,” Asha said. She nodded to the counter. “Now, do you still need to be in line? Because if you’re coming to my aunt’s, there’s going to be more than enough food to take home, afterward.”

  Seph pulled out the ticket with his number on it and eyed it thoughtfully. “I suppose not,” he said. He held the slip of paper out to Asha. “Did you need to get something? Because you can take my place in line, if you like.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I was just passing by when I saw you in here, so I decided to come and hassle you. It’s the least I can do, for all the grief you’ve been causing me in trying to find you a partner!” She gave him a playful smile to go with her teasing wink. “I do have to get back to running my errands, now, though.” She turned to go, waving at him over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Vovin!”

  “Seph!” he called after her. She stopped and looked back at him. He smiled and motioned to himself. “Please – you can call me ‘Seph.’”

  “All right.” Asha smiled. “See you tomorrow…Seph.”

  Well, this should be interesting, Seph thought, as he left the deli and made his way back to his apartment building. He decided to forego a cab and make the twenty-block journey on foot. As he walked, he breathed in the scents of the city, the exhaust from the cars and the hint of impending snow that hung heavy on the air. He contemplated Asha’s invitation – no, her insistence – to attend her family’s Thanksgiving get-together, and whether it was appropriate to engage in personal gatherings with someone he paid for professional services. I would never dream of asking my clients to come home with me for drinks and backgammon.

  Seph had to chastise himself. Asha is a very different kind of person, he thought. She’s forthright in her approach to all things, from the business she runs to her personal life. Despite Asha’s usual cool, sassy exterior, Seph liked that inside her ample bosom beat a kind, generous heart. He smiled. Guess I’ve got a reason to give thanks, tomorrow.

  He pulled out his phone and found the text message Asha had sent him about dinner, along with the address to her aunt’s house. She said I didn’t have to bring anything, he thought. But that’s not how I was raised. A Vovin always arrives with a gift for his host when he pays a visit.

  The next day, Seph took a taxi out to a charming suburban neighborhood in The Heights. He picked at a piece of lint on his wool trousers. Asha had neglected to tell him the dress code, so he opted for a charcoal suit with a plum-colored shirt and silver-gray necktie. He paid the driver and got out, taking with him the case of imported beer and a bottle of chardonnay from the Vovin Clan vineyards located upstate. Asha’s uncle sounded like the kind of man who would appreciate a good brew; Seph figured the women would be more partial to the wine.

  An older black man with receding gray hair and a smoky mustache answered the door, dressed in a bulky knit sweater and khaki slacks. “You must be Asha’s friend, Seph,” he said. “I’m her uncle, Harold. Come on, in. What have you got, there? Here, let me help you with that.” He took the beer from Seph, freeing his hand for a firm clasp and shake.

  As Seph followed Harold into the two-story Craftsman-style house, he picked up on many outstanding aromas – roasting meats, breads, and various herbs and spices. He could hear the sound of a sports commentator coming from a large, flat-screen TV that he glimpsed in the front parlor. “You have a lovely home,” Seph said, looking around. He liked the warm, cozy feel of the place, the framed photos on the walls showing many happy faces. Seph recognized a younger Asha in a couple.

  “Thank you,” Harold said. He held up the beer. “I’ve got an extra icebox in the garage; I’m going to put these
out there to keep them cold, because I don’t think there’s going to be room for them in the kitchen with all the food Helen’s got in there.” He smiled. “Go ahead and make yourself at home. The game doesn’t start for a few hours, so we’re just watching the pre-show. You’re welcome to join us.” He motioned to the parlor. “Just head on in and introduce yourself. My sons and some of their kids are in there, now.”

  Before Seph could join the other men, Asha appeared, wearing an apron over a brown and gold paisley blouse and boot-length denim skirt. “Hey, you made it!” she said with a bright smile. She had a smudge of flour on her cheek and her sleeves had been rolled to the elbow. “You’re right on time. Biscuits just went in the oven.” She noticed the bottle of wine and clucked her tongue. “Now, I thought I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” She looked up into his eyes. “I hope you listen to your clients better than do to me.”

  He grinned. “I’ve never had any complaints.” He handed her the bottle. “It’s a little something from my family to yours.”

  “’Vovin Vineyards,’” Asha read from the label. She nodded. “Impressive.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “You know, if I take this into the kitchen, I can’t promise it’ll make it back to the table with the food. We’ve got some thirsty ladies in there, working on this meal – we may need a little of this to help keep us from losing our minds.”

  “It’s yours to do with as you please,” Seph told her. He peered past her toward the kitchen. He could hear laughter amid the bang of pots and the clatter of utensils. His mouth watered as he stood in close proximity to the source of all those amazing scents he had detected upon his arrival. “It smells really good…” As a boy, he could not resist the siren’s call of Mrs. Carson’s domain, always fascinated with the whole cooking process. He had learned at an early age that the kitchens could be hallowed ground for the staff, and in particular for the woman in charge of it all, which meant getting permission to be allowed past the door.

  Asha seemed to read his mind. “You’re welcome to come in,” she said. “Just don’t get underfoot, and be prepared to get your Christmas Goose a little earlier this year than you expected.”

  Seph treated her to a bemused frown. “My what?”

  Asha smirked. “Grandma likes to pinch butts,” she said. “Especially when they’re on cute young men.” She gave him a serious look. “Remember – you have been warned. Enter at your own risk, and make sure you never turn your back on Grandma.”

  “I won’t,” Seph said, chuckling, and followed her in.

  Asha proceeded to make quick introductions, pointing to each of the five women of varying ages currently bustling from stove to countertop. “There’s Aunt Helen, Aunt Beverly, my cousin Ruth, my mom Janice, and Grandma Hamilton – or as we like to call her, ‘Gram Ham.’”

  Seph leaned in close and whispered in Asha’s ear, “Is she the pincher?”

  “One hundred percent Doberman,” Asha confirmed, in sotto voce.

  “And who is this fine looking golden boy?” Ruth asked. A slender young woman with a short Afro, she gave Seph an unabashed appraisal. “Asha, girl – you been holding out on us?”

  “This is Seph,” Asha announced, gesturing to him. “He’s a professional colleague.”

  “Are you one of her clients?” Janice asked outright, eyeing Seph. Full-figured like Asha, she wore a brightly colored scarf twisted up around her head like a turban. Seph could see that Asha had also inherited her mother’s prominent cheekbones. “You’re a Dragon, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Grandma said, and gave a coo of delight. A thin little woman with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses, she walked over and patted Seph’s chest, leaving her slender hand pressed over his heart. “He’s a Dragon, all right.” She winked up at him. “My late husband was one, too. We never had any boys, though – just girls.”

  This came as a surprise to Seph. “Wait,” he said. He looked over at Asha. “So, that would mean…”

  She sighed and nodded. “I’m a carrier,” she confessed. “And I’m sure you’re wondering why I haven’t found a mate and settled down by now.”

  “Well, now that you mention it…”

  “She’s waiting for the right man,” Ruth interjected with a smug smile.

  Aunt Helen stopped stirring the contents of a pot on the stove and turned to Asha’s cousin with an admonishing look. “Ruthie, have you finished whipping those potatoes, yet?” Not quite as plump as Janice but not as slender as Grandma and Ruth, she had a strong build and a short, Josephine Baker hairstyle. “Because this gravy is just about ready and I am not going to let it grow skin while I’m waiting on you to finish what you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Sorry, Mama,” Ruth replied sheepishly. She went back to the large bowl on the counter and began attacking its contents with a hand mixer.

  “As you can see,” Asha said, “Aunt Helen runs a tight ship when it comes to Thanksgiving dinner.” She fished a corkscrew out of a drawer and opened the wine, letting the bottle sit on the counter a moment to breathe while she retrieved six glasses from a nearby cupboard. “This is our family tradition – every year, we drive each other crazy getting the meal ready. We start cooking the day before, taking shifts, and we’re not done until it goes on the table.” She poured the wine and then began distributing the glasses, saving the last two for herself and Seph. “One thing’s for sure: nobody ever walks away hungry.”

  “Your hard work pays off,” Seph said.

  “Always,” Asha replied, and tapped her glass to his before they both drank.

  A digital timer began to chirp. “Turkey’s done,” Aunt Helen announced. She moved her gravy pan to the back of the stove and turned off the burner. “Now, where did I put those mitts…?”

  Seph saw an opportunity to help. Setting aside his glass, he walked over to the oven, opened it, and reached inside with his bare hands. “Here we go,” he said, grunting as he lifted the large roasting pan out and set it on the stovetop. “Wow – that is one big bird. Are you sure that’s not an ostrich?”

  Ruth stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed in amazement. “I can’t believe you just pulled that metal pan out of that hot oven like that!” She snagged one of Seph’s wrists and looked at his palm. “Not even red,” she murmured.

  Seph held up both hands and wiggled his fingers. “Dragon,” he said, by way of explanation. “We’re naturally impervious to extreme temperatures, in either form.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone shapeshift before,” Ruth said, and Seph could tell she was flirting with him. She peered up at him through her thick lashes and smiled. “Maybe you could let me see you do it, after dinner…”

  “Seph’s not here to entertain you, Ruthie,” Asha said, lightly admonishing. She caught Seph’s elbow and steered him away from her cousin. “He’s our guest. Show a little respect, now.” She looked at Seph. “We’re going to be bringing the food out in a few minutes. Go ahead and get yourself a seat at the main table. You can sit beside me, if you like. We all take the end chairs in case one of us needs to get up and run back to the kitchen for something, so just grab a place next to one of those.”

  “You sure you don’t need any help?” Seph asked.

  “If we do, we’ll call you.” Smiling, Asha gave him a gentle push to send him out of the kitchen.

  The long dining room table sat twelve people, with some of the teenagers in the living room eating off tray stands and the younger children gathered at a small table off to the side. Seph wound up introducing himself to everyone, as Asha had been preoccupied with helping serve. Bowls and platters got passed back and forth across the main table. The sound of happy voices blended with joyful feasting. Before they began, however, Aunt Helen had everyone join hands and bow their heads, and Uncle Harold gave the blessing.

  “We gather here today to give thanks, for good food and good company. We are fortunate to have both, and to be able to share our bounty with others. May all who sit at this table never hunger, may their lives as w
ell as their bellies always be full, and their hearts and minds always open to those in need.”

  So, this is where she gets it, Seph realized, glancing at Asha. He looked around at the large family and the friends they had invited to join them today. He had never seen such warmth and camaraderie in his own home while growing up. My father would say it was “improper.” Seph smiled. I like this.

  Within the hour, everyone had finished their first helpings and some had gone back for seconds. After dinner, Seph began to help gather up the dirty dishes. “Would you like me to wash or dry?” he asked Asha, only to be rewarded with a hoot of laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.” Asha gave him a wry look. “You’re a member of the Vovin Clan. Have you ever washed a dish in your entire life?”

  “Well…”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “Don’t worry – Aunt Helen’s got a dishwasher, and I do not mean Uncle Harold.” She hefted the plates and turned toward the kitchen. “All we have to do is load it and run it.”

  “Fine,” Seph said. He picked up another stack and followed her. “But just so you know? This is one Vovin who isn’t opposed to soapy water. I’m more than happy to pull my weight and do my share. Doesn’t your tradition also include the one that goes something like ‘those who don’t cook, get to clean up?’”

  “Sometimes,” she said, peering back over her shoulder at him. “But around here, it’s more like ‘if you want the dishes to be clean the first time, get someone who knows what they’re doing to wash them.’”

  They finished clearing the table. Janice, Helen, and Grandma sorted the leftovers into containers, creating full meals to be stored and eaten at a later date. They bagged them up and wrote people’s names on each. “Everyone goes home with something,” Asha explained, passing a bag to Seph that had his name written on it. “That’s how we roll.”

  “Thank you,” Seph said, and then choked on a yelp when he felt a sharp pinch on one of his buttocks. He twisted around to see Grandma strolling past, smiling and humming pleasantly.