Who: Patience
OT Pat, Ash, Gwen, Bella, Damon, Lucy, Kevin (+1?), Chloe, Nica, Marlowe, Jack, Louise, Mere, Devon
Where: Pat and Patience's house
When: Thursday night, Thanksgiving (November 26)
The timer on the oven dinged at exactly 7:45 PM. When she'd invited everyone over, she'd been upfront that dinner wouldn't start until after eight. Given the fact that certain invitees had a particular, um, sun allergy, she wanted to give them ample time to do…whatever they needed to do…before showing up. Hey. She wasn't well-versed in the ways of the vampire. They had sharp fangs and they drank blood. That was about the sum total that she really needed to know.
Also, the later they had dinner, the more time she had to actually prepare it.
This was the first time she'd ever attempted to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. Pat seemed overwhelmingly supportive of her domestic endeavors. It made her feel a little bit like that mom from
Leave it to Beaver or something. Like maybe he wanted to come home to find her wearing her pearls and high heels while she was vacuuming. Then again, he'd probably
love if he came home to find her in only that.
He wasn't hovering, per se, but she knew he was still worried about her. She hadn't suffered any more episodes like the night when he'd raced her to the hospital, but she still hadn't been in top form. She was okay tonight, though. They'd woken up early to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade – just the three of them curled up in bed: Pat, her, and Beast. The puppy was still the cutest thing she'd ever laid eyes on and she was horribly protective of him, especially when Pat tended to make fun of him. Still, he'd gotten a little too rambunctious earlier and she'd had to kick him out of the kitchen. (Not literally, of course. She'd just gotten Pat to take him back down to the basement.)
Oddly enough, there weren't any burnt smells wafting from the kitchen. It all smelled…like what she assumed Thanksgiving dinner should smell like. Grabbing a couple of potholders, she opened the oven door and pulled out the pan containing the turkey. The bird was golden brown and looked juicy, but everything she'd read on how to cook a turkey said to let it rest once it was done, so she resisted cutting into it to check. The vegetables that had been roasting in the pan looked tender. She could only hope it was all good.
She tented the pan with aluminum foil and then checked everything else she had going on. The potatoes had finished boiling and were just waiting to be mashed and mixed with butter and cream and fresh cracked pepper (she'd resisted making them from a box…okay, Pat had forbid her to make them from a box…which really just made her want to tell him he could fucking make them himself…but a part of her wanted their first Thanksgiving as husband and wife to be perfect…so she hadn't), the stuffing and the green bean casserole (which was a staple, right?) were still in the oven, the cranberry sauce and the green salad were in the refrigerator, and the rolls were waiting to be popped in to warm just before it was time to sit down and eat. Out on the table in the dining room, she'd set out a cheese and fruit tray, a few bottles of wine that had been chilled, and the desserts were being kept out of sight for fear that they'd disappear with some of those Van Warrens around.
Had she gone to a lot of work? Hell yeah. She felt like freaking Betty Crocker or some shit. But she just wanted everything to be nice. Normal. Traditional. Like an actual family holiday dinner. Making new,
good memories about family and tradition could only help her and Ash.
Hearing voices from the dining room, Patience untied her apron, draped it over the counter, and paused to smooth out the skirt of her
pewter colored dress before heading out to see who'd arrived.
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