Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG-13. Some references to some sex, but nothing down and dirty here.

Summary: The airline passenger Emma describes? I sat next to this jerk on a transcontinental flight. The only difference was that I puked all over him.

I needed a feel-good part, so here's one for you all. Would you let Frohike plan your wedding?

Spoilers: None.

Disclaimer: Belongs to the muses, but Carter stole them. Property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television.
 

"Drinks were served in golden vessels of various kinds, and the royal wine was plentiful according to the king's bounty."

The Book of Esther 1:7. New American Standard Version.
 
 

Ergo Bibamus!
 

November 27, 1999

I hate night classes. I particularly hate working night classes after a full day of regular classes. I really hate working night classes after a full day of regular classes on the night before a holiday. And I especially hate working night classes after a full day of regular classes on the night before a holiday when I have a million things to do...

And I couldn't stand the student I was subbing with. He was a business major-one strike against him right there-and he was unbelievably fussy. He'd change his mind about signing or captioning approximately every 10 to 15 minutes. He'd get into an uproar over small mistakes. I'd had a couple of demanding students, but never like this.

I had hoped that since it was the night before a holiday, the instructor would let us out early. No such luck. He continued to rattle off at the mouth until 10 after 10. Finally, I packed up my gear and headed for the parking structure. I contemplated requesting escort service-CU is not located in the best of neighborhoods-- but didn't feel like waiting the 15 minutes it would take for one to show up. I wanted to get home, see my family, have a drink, and put my feet up. The sooner I got to my car, the
sooner I could get over the bridge and into Virginia and then I'd be home...

"You don't usually work at night." The male voice was mellifluous, but the eyes were flat, cold. I could smell his very potent cigarette over the one I was dragging on.

"Excuse me, I've had a long day, and I'd like to go home." I was scared out of my mind, but I was also exhausted and my primary aim was to get back to Alexandria ASAP.

"Yes. Your lovely new home. Not exactly upscale, but pleasant enough neighborhood..." My blood turned to ice water. I stomped on my cigarette.

"What do you want?" I demanded harshly. "And make it fast." My voice was shaking, but I was going for bravado. Make him think he doesn't intimidate you, Allison. Ha, ha.

"Have you heard from your sister-in-law yet? Or should I say, former sister-in-law, since you seemed to have gone and gotten yourself engaged to your new man in your life..."

"I'm going now." I tried to open the lock on the door, but his hand brushed over the keys.

"I knew your father, you know."

"My father didn't go around with people like you."

"That's what he'd like you to have thought."

"What's his name?"

"Morris Rausch, of course. But you knew that."

"Yes, I knew that, he's my father. What of it? He's been dead for 17
years."

"A fact I'm well aware of, young lady. But I'm not here to talk about him. Not tonight. I thought that perhaps you'd like some information about your dear sister-in-law."

"What about her?"

"I believe we can locate her."

"Have you located her?"

"Not at this time. But we're quite certain...of where she might be."

"Not good enough."

"You see, Ms. Gerstein-or should I call you Mrs. Langly now, you so cleverly had the hospital personnel fooled-" Jesus, was there anything this monster didn't know about?-"there are...certain factions that we had been in cooperation with. But now they seemed to have forgotten who their friends are. Perhaps we could help you."

"Why would you want to help me? And what makes you think I'd accept your help?"

"I have a...common background with you, young lady."

"You must not know much about me. You'd know I'm not young." I don't know why I was even stabbing at humor at this point. And bad humor at that. I was truly losing it.

"I don't think we have anything in common," I hissed.

"Oh, but you're wrong on that. Tell me, how did your grandfather get into the country?"

"He came over from Austria when things got ugly over there."

"Yes, but how?"

"I refuse to continue this discussion."

"You know, don't you, Ms. Gerstein? You do know, don't you?"

"We are not having this conversation," I choked the words out. I was about to pass out.

"Ms. Gerstein," he said languidly as he lit another cigarette, "you do practice your faith, don't you?"

"I don't think that's anyone's affair but my own."

"You would be surprised, young lady. You will be. If you're not careful." He vanished into the shadows of the garage.

I opened the door, slammed down the locks, and lit another cigarette. I took a few deep breaths, and gunned my little Sentra like I'd never revved her before. The sooner I got out of here, the sooner I'd be over the bridge...
 

"Hey, where were you? We were getting worried!" Langly got up to give me a hug. "You okay?"

"Just a...weirdo in the parking structure. DC at night's full of them." I didn't want to discuss this right now. I wanted to sit down and have a drink and feel loved.

"Ally!" Emma came over and gave me a hug. "It's so great to be here. These two gentlemen have been keeping me wonderfully entertained." Frohike was sitting on the sofa, and he waved and smiled at me.

"Good to see you, Em. Glad you could make it."

"Well, it's not like I've got a lot of family left, and I really appreciated the invite!" She was smiling, but her eyes looked sad.

"Seen your niece yet?"

"She's downstairs trying out some of the makeup I brought for her."

"Like she doesn't have enough," I laughed. Miranda had two buckets full, versus my four items. For some mysterious reason, though, she always managed to get her hands on my stuff...

"Ally? Want a beer?" Langly asked as he made his way to the kitchen.

"I'd love one. Em? Frohike?"

"Another one, please, thank you," Frohike caroled.

"I'm still nursing mine, thanks," Emma smiled. Langly appeared with three bottles. He handed Frohike his, but popped the top on mine before handing it to me.

"She rates," he reminded Frohike.

"She'd better," Frohike reminded him back.

"Frohike, what'd you do with your son?"

"He's out in the offices. I have him...working on something."

"He doing okay on that?"

"Michael's actually quite good. Needs refinement in certain areas, though. I understand you convinced him to enroll back in classes, Ally."

"I did nothing of the sort, Frohike. I simply gave him an option."

"Well, he speaks well of you." I damn near fell over. I couldn't imagine Michael Frohike having a good word for anybody that didn't have four legs and a tail.

"That's...gratifying. How was your flight, Em?"

She laughed. "Well, it's Thanksgiving weekend, and right there, it's gruesome. The flight from Sacramento to Chicago wasn't bad. But Chicago to DC, I had the honor of sitting next to a bodybuilder." She made that honor sound extremely dubious.

"What'd he do?"

"Well, he brought his own cooler of food. I can't say I blame him-airline food is not my idea of a choice diet-and that was fine. The problem started when he began to eat it."

"Was he that gross?"

"Not only was he gross, the food he had was disgusting, to put it mildly. He pulled out this vile-smelling soy protein drink and loaded it with honey, and he kept splashing it-we did hit some turbulence-and then there was the mashed organic avocado and the blackstrap molasses. The worst came when he pulled out this giant slab of smoked raw salmon-"she made a shape about six inches square-"and he started gnawing on it! And you know I'm not squeamish, but I finally complained to the flight attendant. They said they really couldn't do anything, so I sat down and asked him to please put it away. He looked at me as if he couldn't conceive of anyone being disgusted by his dinner. I guess several passengers complained, because finally, this cute male flight attendant walked up to him and said, "You know, there's a time and place for bait, and this isn't it." I cracked up, but this guy looked like, I don't get it."

"People like that are too stupid to live," Langly decided.

"Rudeness," Frohike concurred.

"But I'm here, and I'm looking forward to being out here for a few days. I've been to DC a few times, but I've never seen northern Virginia, and I'd like to check it out."

"Oh, you should see the hot spots we have in Alexandria," Langly chortled. "Let's see...we've got about half a dozen 7-11's, every fast food palace known to God and man, two malls, and some really cool places to get electronics..."

"It's pretty nice here," I interrupted him. "It's suburbia, but it's still good."

"What made you pick Alexandria?"

"We were here, and Miranda didn't want to change schools. I figured she'd had enough tumult in her young life, so I didn't want to throw that in the mix. So we bought this house."

"With a little help from Eleanor," Langly added.

"Yes, with a little help from my mother. Actually, quite a bit of help," I laughed.

Emma laughed as well. "Sounds like Eleanor's going soft in her old age."

"Soft has nothing to do with it. She's just trying to keep it away from my brother, that's all." For some reason, it sounded humorous tonight, and I kept laughing. Or maybe it was the beer. Couldn't be the beer. I wasn't even halfway through my first one.

"Your brother the surgeon with the gold-digger wife, am I right?" she laughed.

"That would be the one."

"Hey, I checked your brother's financials. He's not looking so hot," Langly piped up.

"Langly, he makes over 300K a year."

"And he's up to his ass in debt. No, more like up to his eyebrows."

"Well, I'm sure Cheryl sees to that," I tartly assailed my sister-in-law from my own side of the family.

Frohike flashed Langly a hard look that said, Not now! Fortunately, Langly took the hint and shut up about my brother's bank accounts. I was going to have to talk to him about this; if he was going to violate my family's privacy, he should at least be discreet about it.

"It's a nice house," Emma observed. "How old?"

"75 years, and everyone here makes fun of me for saying it's an old house," I giggled.

"That's 'cause it's ONLY 75 years old!" Langly laughed back at us. "Got a great fireplace." I noticed only then that the fireplace had a real fire built in it. Maybe that was the reason the room felt so warm and comfortable, I thought.

No, it's because people are laughing again, and you are, too, I told myself. Been a while since we were all in the same room and somebody wasn't pissed at someone else. And it feels good.

"Ally, what's the plan for tomorrow?" Emma inquired.

"Well...I plan to cook all day, basically."

"Good, because I was planning to do it with you. That means we can sleep late, be lazy, and eat later in the day, and we won't care that we're half asleep."

"Hey, Em, you are a guest here," I reminded her.

"Ally. Did you hear me? I'm cooking with you. I want to. Don't try to weasel out of it." Emma tried to look stern, but she cracked up laughing anyway.

"Fine. You do turkey, I'll do lasagna."

"Do we have Italians in the room?" Emma inquired.

"Nah, just some people hate turkey," Langly informed her.

"That's because you probably never had a delicious Gerstein turkey," Emma told him.

"Never have. It's true."

"You have to promise to try one bite," Emma ordered him. Emma was an educational lobbyist and had been a schoolteacher for years. She was not one to thwart. Langly was apparently hip to this, because he assented.

"One mouthful. Deal."

"Well I, for one, am looking forward to what sounds like a most sumptuous feast," Frohike let us know.

"Didn't think you did government-enforced holidays, Frohike," I laughed.

"I don't. But why give up a delicious meal on principle alone?" We all laughed.

"Too bad you're not gonna meet Byers this weekend," Langly added.

"Byers. He would be?"

"He's our...associate," Frohike explained nonspecifically.

"He left to celebrate with family?"

"Actually, it was something about a lady," Frohike smiled ruefully.

"Always something about a lady," Langly finished the beer in his hand. I motioned to him to refill us both.

"What do you mean, it's always something about a lady?" I demanded.

"If you're a guy, and you're straight, well...it's always something about a lady," said Langly by way of explanation. He ducked into the kitchen. Emma and I were still giggling.

"Just don't forget to bring this lady a beer," I called out.

"What, do I look like your love slave or something?" he shouted back.

"Yes, you do, and don't forget it." Whatever it was, I was having a major attack of the giggles tonight. Fuck it. It felt good.

He came back and scanned around to Emma and Frohike. "See what I have to put up with?"

"And we feel just so terribly sorry for you," Frohike said tartly, and we all cracked up.

Miranda came and displayed her newest skills in makeup to us, and we were all well on our way to a solid beer buzz. She looked at us as though we had all lost our minds, but I could not have cared less. We hadn't sat around and laughed like this in a while, and we needed it. Around midnight, she informed us that she was going to watch Jay Leno and let us go insane on our own.

Michael joined us later, and even he was less surly and more agreeable than usual. Maybe he figured out that Emma didn't put up with shit from obnoxious children of any age. He sucked down a few beers rapidly and announced that he was going to call it a night.

Frohike finally decided he'd better save room for eating and drinking the following day-actually, later in the day by now-and he left shortly after Michael went to bed. Langly was yawning and I chased him off, telling him that there was no way in hell I was going to put up with him in the hospital again just because he didn't take care of himself.

Emma and I sat up for a while, slowly sipping our beers, and just relaxing with one another. Emma may not technically be my sister-in-law anymore, I thought, but she's one of my very best friends. It was a real comfort to have her near.

"So what's this that your fiance was in the hospital?"

"Two and a half weeks. That's why I didn't return your calls, for which I apologize."

"No worries. What was wrong? Is he okay?"

"We have no idea what was wrong. He seems to be all right now, although he's still pretty wiped out. Tell you, Em, it was hell."

"I'll bet. You like pretty exhausted yourself."

"Do I look that bad?"

"You don't look bad, Ally, you just look like you need some serious R and R. I mean, you seem happy. He really is a sweetheart."

"Thanks, Em. I love him. And while I can't say I've been particularly enjoying my life in recent weeks, if someone asked me if I was happy, I'd have to say yes."

"Thought so. You'll get through this, Ally."

"I just wish Lydia was here."

"I do, too, but you need to stop feeling guilty about her...disappearance." It was hard for Emma to say it. "Just because she was doing something for you when it happened does not make you a party to the act."

"I just want her to come back safely and well."

"I do, too, Ally. I mean, technically speaking, she is my only family left."

"I hope you don't think that my getting married again will mean that you don't consider us family."

"Don't be silly. Ally, you and Miranda are always family to me. And Langly is, too." She looked at me. "I don't think family's so much blood connection as emotional ties. You obviously have an extended family here, and you are very lucky."

"I hate to say it, but they drive me out of my mind sometimes."

"Of course they do. You love them. They love you. That doesn't mean you don't get on each other's nerves." I giggled. If only she knew. "Granted, they're a bit...odd, but they seem to be good people. Kind."

"They are, Em. They're very good people. And as for odd..." I giggled again. "That's very charitable of you. The truth is, they're downright strange."

"Strange in a good way, though. How did you meet them?"

"Em, that's a story in itself, and it takes a long time, and it's complicated, and to tell you the truth, I'm not sure I can stay awake that long." It was after 2:00 and I was fading rapidly.

"Then maybe you can tell me when we have girls' day out on Saturday."

"Girls' day out? Is there something I don't know about?"

"Miranda and I planned it. The three of us are all going out and getting our hair done, our nails done, facials, massage, the whole thing. And you're not getting out of it." I got her best teacher look again.

"Okay, I won't try to," I promised her. "I know the accommodations here aren't the most luxurious, but the rates are reasonable. I made up the spare bed in Miranda's room. Normally her friend Shelby sleeps there, but Shelby is actually with her own family this week, which may be the longest time she's spent with them in six months. Before that, Shelby had the spare room downstairs, but Michael's sleeping there right now. We're a bit full at the inn." We both laughed.

"You always were the hostess with the mostest, Ally."

"Right now, Em, I'm the mostest tired of anything. I'll see you when we get up. And thanks for coming. It's so great you're here."

"I think I'm in for a wonderful weekend. Thanks for having me." We hugged and I went off to bed.
 

Everyone slept late. I was the first one up, and I slept the sleep of the dead until 10:45. I took a shower in absolute silence (and absolute hot water-it pays to be the first one up around here), and padded out to the kitchen to put on some coffee. I drank in the quiet. It was such a pleasure to wake up in a house without people sniping, arguing, scrounging for missing car keys (and swearing a blue streak while doing so), trying to pull equipment and books together, fishing through the cupboards for clean commuter mugs, searching for the hair dryer...

Allison, it's your life and you love it, I chided myself. Still, a little quiet could go a long way towards soothing the savage beast, and I had been feeling mighty beastly as of late.

I was reading the paper when I felt someone lean over me.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." I got up and hugged him. "How're you maintaining?"

"Okay. You?"

"Better, thanks. Want some?" I went to the coffee pot to refill mine, and I motioned to him.

"Yeah." I set milk and sugar out for him; he drinks it with a ton of additives. "Are we the only ones up?"

"We are indeed. Nice, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah. I can get used to this."

"Better not. It's back to the salt mines in four days for you," I laughed.

"Already there, unless not having a commute doesn't count," he smiled at me.

"True, true." I studied him carefully, and I was slightly taken aback. He had always been thin. Now he looked downright gaunt.

"What?" he asked.

"How much weight did you lose being sick?"

"Hmm...about eighteen pounds, I think. That's what they told me, anyway."

"Okay, from today on, I am now on a campaign to fatten you up. The Jewish mother in me says you need to eat."

"Well, I did sorta miss your cooking there for a while."

"Okay, but your mission, should you decide to accept it-and you will, Mr. Phelps-is to gain back everything you lost." He started humming the theme music to "Mission Impossible." I started giggling again.

"I think I can live with that."

"Good. Now what do you want to eat?"

"Now, you mean?"

"Yes, now."

"What do we have for cereal?"

"The usual. Apple Jacks, Cocoa Puffs, Frosted Flakes."

"I'll go with the Cocoa Puffs. Washed down with..." he crinkled his forehead. "French toast?"

"You've got it."

"Cool. Do I have time to get in the shower?"

"I think so."

"Good, because Michael and Miranda use up all the damn hot water when they get in first." He got up. "Care to join me?"

I had just gotten out of the shower myself. My hair was still wet...what the hell, my hair was still wet.

"Last one in is a rotten egg."
 

It was bliss to be in the shower with him again, just like old times. (Old times? We're talking months here-and it already felt like several lifetimes). We took our time, used up the lion's share of the hot water, then continued the activities in our room. It felt like it had been a century since making love, and it was delicious to be together like that again.

We were lying in our usual state of semi-comatose bliss when there was a loud rap on our door.

"Langly? It's almost kick-off time! Hurry up!" Frohike was outside the door.

"Oh, shit!" Langly jumped out of bed. "Sorry, Ally, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

"And that would be get to the TV set before kick-off?" I responded drily.

"Ally, it's the best football watching day of the year."

"So much for the myth that you guys don't celebrate government-mandated holidays."

"We don't. But why pass up the best games of the year?"

"Langly, it's college football!"

"Which is way better than the pro stuff these days. I mean, there's no game left in the pro stuff."

"UCLA always beats USC."

"USC's been good this year."

"UCLA always wins."

"So what? They took eight in a row. Big deal!"

"And they'll do it a ninth."

"Not guaranteed. Should be a decent game for a change."

"If you cheer for USC, I'll have to hurt you."

"I'll do it quietly," he promised and grinned at me as he left the room.

"Langly." I stopped him.

"Yeah?" He was impatient.

"How long do you think Frohike was at the door?"

"His fault if he was!" Langly tossed his blonde head back and laughed.
 

I headed out to the kitchen, where Miranda and Emma were sitting and drinking coffee. Two of the cats were keeping them company.

"When do you want to get started on the turkey?" Emma asked.

"Pretty soon. It's in the fridge-" I opened it up to check for the location. I didn't see it. "Oh, fuck? Where's the turkey?"

"Check the freezer. Michael and me put it in there, I think," Miranda informed me.

"SHIT!"

"What?" Miranda looked at me, puzzled.

"The turkey's not thawed! Shit!" I opened the freezer door and sure enough, taking up the major portion of the freezer cavity, was a substantial turkey. "Looks like we'll have to do emergency surgery to get this thing thawed out enough to cook. Shit!"

Just then a yell came up from the basement. "All right, who fucking used up all the goddamn hot water?!"

I shouted back down, "Michael, did you put the turkey in the freezer?"

"Yeah. Where the fuck was I supposed to put it?" he retorted loudly. Shit. I probably didn't tell the kids where to put it, and neither of them knew about preparing a turkey...no point in going off on them.

Emma grabbed the glacier-sized bird. "Let's start out with some water, and then maybe some microwaving, and then we'll dip it in water again..." I began filling up the sink and we attempted to set the bird in it. It barely fit.

"Look, it's only a turkey. Besides, aren't you making lasagna as well?" Emma inquired.

"Mom, I really wanted a turkey," Miranda said sadly.

"Look, we'll do what we can to get this monster thawed out, honey," I hugged her.

"Don't worry, Mir. We'll get this bird in the oven soon enough," Emma assured her.
 

After several hours of wrestling with the bird, we finally had it sufficiently thawed out to begin preparing. I made the stuffing and Emma put it in the bird. We then went to work on lasagna, garlic bread, salad, potatoes, and pies. I can still make a decent blueberry pie, even with frozen blueberries, and Emma makes a pumpkin one to die for.

In spite of the state of the bird earlier in the day, it had been a relaxing, enjoyable afternoon. Emma and I talked, drank beer, and cooked, and were only interrupted by the male occupants of the house for beers or during halftime. And UCLA had beat USC, 28-7. I snickered at Langly.

"Told you," I said to him.

"That wasn't even a game," he retorted. "It was like so lame!"

"Yeah, but UCLA won."

He went back to watch the numerous other games with Frohike and Michael, who got lazier and drunker as the day lingered on. Some women might complain that the men in their lives don't help them with holiday preparations. As for me, the best help they can offer is to stay the hell out of my way, and for the most part, they obliged.

Around 7:00, the turkey was finally done, which meant it was time to get everything else out. Emma and I lifted the bird from the roaster and on to the chopping block, letting it settle. I began spooning stuffing from out of it.

NY Times and Mu knew poultry when they smelled it, and they appeared on the counter along with the turkey. Attempts to shoo them away were failing miserably. Motley and Screamer also appeared, and were quite vocal in their interest.

At that moment, Michael walked in the back door with Tiny nearby. He'd taken the dog for a walk, and he'd undone her leash before entering the kitchen. NY Times hissed in alarm and began to scurry and in the process KNOCKED THE ENTIRE TURKEY ON THE FLOOR. Tiny raced over and carted off the bird to the living room.

"SHIT!"

Miranda, Langly, and Frohike appeared in the kitchen at the sound of my screech.

"Are you all right?" Frohike demanded.

"What the hell happened?" Langly asked me.

"Mom, where's the turkey?" Miranda inquired.

I leaned back against the fridge and placed my beer bottle against my forehead. I was laughing hysterically.

"Mom, what about the bird?" Miranda became more insistent.

"I think you'd better ask Tiny that question," Emma informed her.

"WHAT?!"

We all paraded into the living room where Tiny had made short work of the carcass. She was happily crunching on turkey bones, having stripped the outer flesh away. I figured Miranda was going to be hysterical. Was there a Boston Market open at this hour?

Miranda at first looked like she was going to burst into a sobbing attack. Then she twisted her face up, and began to howl, but in laughter. The rest of us joined in.

"Well," Emma shrugged and smiled. "It's not as if we don't have enough food."

We were still laughing when we got the rest of the food-safely-to the table.
 

"This, my dear, looks exquisite. My compliments to the chefs," Frohike pronounced upon surveying the feast we had set out.

"A bit unusual for Thanksgiving, perhaps, but what we lack in convention, we make up for in quantity," I assured him.

"Michael? Do you have something to say?" Frohike turned to him. Michael looked momentarily uneasy.

"Uh-thanks," he mumbled. "Looks great."

"I haven't tasted anything yet," Langly commented, smirking at me. I sucker punched him and he pretended to keel over.

"Just a moment, my dears," Frohike got up from the table for a minute, and returned with my 4 for a dollar wineglasses and a bottle of...

"Moet & Chandon? Wow!" Emma was impressed.

"What's that?" inquired Miranda, whose acquaintance with alcohol was limited to Jose Cuervo and various Mexican beers.

"Champagne," Michael informed her.

"Good champagne," Emma confirmed.

"God, I haven't had champagne in ages," Langly announced. "And that was Andre."

"This, Blonde Boy, is not Andre," Frohike told him as he popped the cork, which did a nice flight across the dining room, but he managed a trajectory that wouldn't damage life, limb or property.

I hate champagne-even one glass of it will make me violently ill-but I was touched to the heart by the gesture. A bottle of 1979 Moet did not come cheap, and Frohike was not one to show sentiment easily.

"So what should we toast to?" I asked.

"How about to our new servers, which don't go down every ten minutes?" Langly grinned.

"Or the fact that my Thunderbird hasn't died yet," Frohike nodded.

"Or that I don't normally have to work night classes with recalcitrant business students," I laughed.

"How about that I finally got a Pentium 100 in my office?" Emma laughed.

"Jesus fuck! What's wrong with your employer!" Langly was appalled.

"It's the state of California, that's what's wrong with it," she was still laughing.

"Enough said on that," I concurred.

"I'd like to toast to my mommy," Miranda announced quietly. I felt my eyes growing damp. What the fuck? The table went momentarily quiet. "'Cause she's really good to me and I love her." Now I was crying. I'd had just enough alcohol to let go.

"Yeah, here's to Ally. Love ya," Langly toasted, and we clinked.

"And to Langly. I'm glad you're with me," I told him softly. We knocked the glasses together again.

"Here's to Melvin...my dad. Thanks," Michael offered up his glass. I thought Frohike might cry, but he just smiled his private smile and held the moment. One more knock of the glasses.

"To Lydia," Emma said quietly. We all toasted her. "To Lydia."

With that, two glasses-mine and Michael's-shattered. The glass went into the flowers on the table. For some reason, we laughed.

"Nothing like quality merchandise," I giggled.

"Hey, at least it didn't get into the food," Langly waved a hand. "And I'm starving."

"Sorry, you have to let the Israelites pray," I informed him gently. "Don't worry, we'll go fast."

Emma, Miranda and I offered up one of the quick Hebrew prayers of Thanksgiving we knew.

"Okay, now!"

Locusts don't swarm that fast.
 

"I'm stuffed," Michael was the first to make the time-honored announcement that customarily follows Thanksgiving dinner.

Emma, Miranda and I piled the dishes in the sink. We'd deal with the mess later. Right now we had more important things to attend to.

Langly had pulled out the cards, and was dealing everybody in. "Five-card draw. Everybody plays, nickel to open."

"I'm ready," I announced. "It's been a while since I lost any money to you guys." Five-card draw was my worst game. I didn't care. I was loving this day.

The stakes were raised to a quarter, and the game intensified. Frohike was winning by a landslide for a time, but Langly soon honed in on him and started taking away his money. Then Langly hit a string of bad cards and Michael took the lead for a while, with Emma and Miranda consistently playing somewhere in the middle. I was dead last in every game.

"It's weird to play without Byers," I announced mid-game.

"If Byers were here, we'd all get creamed," Langly announced. Probably. Byers was the card shark of the crowd.

"Has he called you?" I asked.

"Nope. Probably too busy finding true love," Frohike sighed.

"Or at least getting boffed," Langly piped in.

"You are so disgusting," Miranda chided him, and I had to laugh. "But at least you lost the beard. God, that was gross!"

"Maybe I'll grow it back," he teased her. He'd acquired one while ill, but had gotten rid of it upon returning home. It had looked terrible. I was grateful he hadn't wanted to hang on to it.

"Not if you expect me to kiss you," I said drily.

"You kissed me when I had it," he whined.

"Yes, when you were too sick to do anything about it. What's your excuse now?"

"I'll think of one," he winked at me. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Don't stick it out unless you plan to use it," he warned me with a leer.

"Please, there are minors present at the table," Frohike commented.

"They're always this bad," Miranda assured him. "Sometimes worse."

Emma was laughing silently. I think she was amused, but she didn't want to be too overt with Miranda.

"When are you children planning to legitimize this union?" Frohike examined his cards over the tops of his glasses.

"You talking about Ally and me?" Langly was silently cursing his current hand.

"No, you and Byers! Of course I'm talking about you two, you idiot!" Frohike was half-exasperated and half-amused.

"Ally?" Langly looked at me for assistance. I raised my hands helplessly.

"Miranda, dear, go get me a calendar, right now. There's a good girl," Frohike admonished her and she sped off.

Miranda returned a few minutes later with my Humane Society Calendar for 2000. She handed it to Frohike.

"All right, let's see. Valentine's Day?"

"No, too cliché," I decided. "And too damn cold."

"March?"

"Still too cold."

"Ally's a wimp about the cold," Langly informed Emma.

"All right, then, it's going to be April or May," Frohike announced. "Since you two cannot seem to pull your act together-"

"Frohike, we've been sort of busy," I said quietly.

"I realize that, my dear, but you can't make us wait forever now, can you?"

"Langly, April or May okay by you?" I asked.

"Works for me."

"April or May it is. The date, of course, is dependent upon what facilities we can manage to procure-"

"Can't be on a Friday night or Saturday," I reminded him. "Dave Sternberg has to be available."

"Fine, fine," Frohike began to make notes on the back of the calendar. "Sternberg. The husband of the lovely Agent Ellen Sternberg?"

"That would be him," I nodded.

"I hope he appreciates her," Frohike sighed. "Now, let's see-"

"Frohike, I think we were planning to keep this pretty simple," I told him.

"Yes, yes, of course. Now Miranda here will be in charge of invitations, so you'll need to submit your guest lists to her, and we'll both work on the flowers. Miranda dear, do you think you can put your mother's wedding party together?"

"Sure." Miranda was itching with excitement now.

"And I will see about procuring a place to eat and drink, and I'll assemble your wedding party, Blonde Boy-"

"Frohike, do I understand that you and Miranda intend to put this thing together?" I was not that drunk, but I wanted to make certain I wasn't hallucinating here.

"My dear, if we wait for you to get around to it, it'll never get off the ground," he sighed.

"Mom, let us do it. It'll be a much better party," Miranda assured me. "I mean, it's not like you don't do a good job of things-"

"Langly? Do we trust these two?"

Langly chortled. "Do we trust them? No. Are we gonna let 'em have at it? Sure, why not? I mean, how badly could they screw it up?"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Langly," Frohike muttered sarcastically.

"Miranda, Frohike, listen. If you two really want to do this, you are more than welcome to pull it together, and we'll show up at the appointed times." I remembered putting together my first wedding 20 years ago. The mere thought of going through it again, even for the simplest of weddings, was enough to kick off a migraine. If they were hot to do it...

"Then we get to do it?" Miranda was about to fall out of her skin. "God, I love weddings! I gotta call Shelby!" She raced off in search of the phone.

"Frohike, just one request," I put up my hand. "Keep it simple. Please."

"But of course, my dear."

We resumed our game.

END OF PART 36