“Of course, Cammie,” Charmaine agreed. Hey, the more the merrier, or more chaotic.
“Me, me,” Jeanette chimed in, not understanding what she was asking for but wanting to be included.
“Hey, girl!” Luc greeted her. “You are lookin’ good.”
“Thank you very much,” she said with a little curtsy, then gave her half brother a quick kiss on the cheek. She wore a corset-type blouse over a gauzy, midcalf gypsy skirt. Luc was looking mighty fine, too, in khakis and a golf shirt.
“Welcome, Sylvie,” she said then to Luc’s wife, who was fighting to hold the two little girls in tow. The prospect of real horses was apparently overpowering. Despite their mother’s admonitions, they kept tugging on her hands to be let loose.
“Hi, Charmaine. Happy Thanksgiving,” Sylvie said with a laugh and a shrug. Sylvie looked good, too, in brown linen slacks and a beige silk blouse. Her hair was swept up off her face in a girlish fashion. Very attractive! But then, Sylvie always did look good, especially together with Luc. The Creole/Cajun combination was something else! Just then, Blanche spotted Charmaine’s outfit. She stopped dead in her struggles, gave the skirt a critical eye, then asked, “Does your skirt twirl?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” Charmaine said.
“Mine does,” Blanche informed her, breaking away from her mother’s restraint and spinning around several times to show how her miniature cowgirl outfit with its flared skirt did indeed twirl.
“Mine, too.” Camille did several twirls, as well, in her matching costume. They had certainly come prepared for a day at the ranch, even Jeanette. Who knew there was a place that sold these things in such small sizes!
“Twirling is a requisite for dress purchases these days,” Sylvie told her. “Not just Dale Evans attire.”
“But of course,” Charmaine agreed, and spun along with the little girls. Turns out her skirt did indeed twirl.
They were all giggling when Tante Lulu came out on the porch. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.” Today Tante Lulu had opted for a dark blond wig in a short wedge style, which was actually very tasteful. On her feet were white support shoes because of the excessive time she expected to be on her feet. Black polyester slacks and a black-and-white polka-dot shirt were topped by a red apron that read cajun cooking… yum! She turned to Sylvie and asked, “Darlin’, did ya bring yer special pecan pie?”
“Two of them,” Sylvie answered. “Plus, a sweet potato pie.”
“One pecan pie is for me,” Luc said, coming up behind his wife and giving her a swift kiss on the back of her neck.
“Oh, you!” Sylvie said. The love between these two, though married for four years now, was palpable in the air, and a joy to witness.
Will I ever have that kind of love?
Yep, the voice in her head replied.
Promise?
It’s not polite to ask a saint for guarantees.
“Good, good,” Tante Lulu said, regarding the pies, though she’d already prepared a ton of desserts herself. Then she gave Luc, Sylvie, and the three little ones gushy kisses before turning on Luc. “I wants you to do me a favor.”
“Uh-oh,” he said.
“I wants you to go shoot me a steer fer the bar-be-cue.”
“Whaaaaat?” Luc squealed.
“Jist kidding. Caint anyone take a joke anymore? Me, I wants you to bring two kettles from the barn out to the backyard. Start the fires so we can deep-fry the turkeys. I already injected them with the Cajun spices, and they’s all ready to go. Start the fire on the grill, too. Fer the steaks.”
“What are we feeding here? An army?”
“Yep, a family army.”
“What can I do?” Sylvie asked.
“How do ya feel ’bout peelin’ taters?”
“Just great,” Sylvie said with a laugh.
“By the by,” Tante Lulu addressed Sylvie, “you brought any of that love potion stuff of yers here? Charmaine, bless her heart, she needs it bigtime.”
Sylvie was a chemist for a pharmaceutical company. She’d become famous a few years back for an alleged love potion she’d developed. Nothing had ever come of it so far except a lot of publicity.
“Oh! I do not,” Charmaine said. “Need a love potion, that is.” But they were all laughing by then, including Charmaine, who actually thought, Hmmm!