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On that day of giving thanks, Sharon Raydor had little to spare for all of the well-behaved officers of the LAPD who were not using force against civilians. The holidays were always fraught with last-minute, inconvenient crimes, so it was only natural that all was quiet on the one year when the captain would have eagerly jumped at the chance to go to a crime scene.
A sigh beside her forced Sharon to abandon thoughts of discharging her own weapon. Cutting the ignition, she turned in her seat to look at her son. “Are you really that unhappy to be spending Thanksgiving with your mother?”
Nick pursed his lips, eyeing Sharon over the frameless lenses of his glasses. “Mommy guilt isn’t going to work this year.”
“Damn,” she said. “It usually works so well on you.”
Nick forced a laugh. “Sorry, mom. I’m fresh out of holiday cheer.”
Sharon frowned and covered his cold hand with her own. “You don’t have to apologize. I appreciate you making the sacrifice.”
“Yes, well, it was this or mope in my apartment, so…”
“You could have gone to your father’s.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “And hobnob with Anne’s yappy twins and psychotic in-laws? No thanks.” His dark green eyes settled on a crease in his khaki slacks, which he smoothed away. “I don’t see why we couldn’t stay home and eat takeout in our pajamas. We could have rented Funny Girl and drank sangria.”
“Trust me: when you meet Brenda’s parents, you’ll understand why I couldn’t exactly say no.” She gazed up at the house and noticed the sway of the curtain. They’d been noticed: there was no longer a chance of making a quick getaway. “Let’s get this over with.” As Nick reached for the handle, Sharon grabbed his arm. “Wait. How does my hair look?”
Nick smirked. “Perfect, as usual.”
Sharon nodded, glancing quickly in the rearview mirror before following Nick’s lead and getting out of the car.
“So do you just want to look prettier than this Brenda or look pretty for her or what?”
Sharon rolled her eyes. “Don’t start with that again, please. You’re not too old for me to sell you on the black market.”
Nick chuckled and, despite her annoyance, Sharon was pleased to hear that it sounded genuine. It was the first time he’d laughed and meant it since he arrived home from Berkley two days prior. “You’re so transparent, mom.”
“I am not. I’m as opaque as ever.” They neared the door and Sharon gave one final cautionary glance at her son. “Don’t embarrass me.”
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”
Sharon glared at her son before allowing a small smile to form on her lips. “Thank you for coming with me. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Please don’t get sappy on me, mom,” Nick groaned. “You’re so weird when you’re sentimental.”
“Are you going to give me sass all day?”
Nick flashed a grin. “All day, every day.”
The door swung open and the two Raydors simultaneously squared their shoulders. Despite his melancholic mood, Sharon was pleased to see that he had managed to give the outward appearance of mild curiosity. Always a Raydor, he plastered a polite smile onto his face. Sharon did the same. Willie Rae Johnson’s face broke into a smile as soon as she saw them.
“Sharon, how wonderful to see you!” Willie Rae exclaimed, taking hold of Sharon’s hand. She patted it as she continued, “I told Brenda Leigh that you’d come! Between the three of us, she got it into her head that you’d cancel at the last minute. That girl…” She raised her eyes heavenward. “And you must be Sharon’s son.”
“Nicholas Raydor, this is Willie Rae Johnson.” Sharon looked over Brenda’s mother, noting the festive Thanksgiving vest the woman was wearing over a white blouse. If holiday cheer were infectious, she knew her son would catch it…in abundance.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Johnson,” Nick said as he shook the older woman’s hand.
“What manners! Please, call me Willie Rae.” She glowed. “Come in, come in—we’re just settin’ the table.” She stepped aside and allowed them to enter. As soon as they were inside the too-warm living room, Clay was upon them, greeting them both with handshakes.
“We’re so glad to share this joyous occasion with one of Brenda Leigh’s closest friends,” Clay said once the introductions were over. “And her son, of course.”
Nick grinned. “I’m honored to be here,” he charmingly added. Sharon gleamed with pride at his well-behaved demeanor. “I was beginning to think my mother made up her dear friend Brenda.”
Sharon narrowed her eyes at her youngest child, her pride wavering enough to be replaced with wry indignation. “Such a comedian, this one. He gets his sense of humor from me.”
“You have a sense of humor?” drawled Brenda’s sugary voice. She wiped her hands on a towel as she emerged from the kitchen and dropped it on the back of the sofa. “It’s good to see you, captain.”
Sharon was careful to school her features, keeping both her annoyance and her interest in the plunging neckline of Brenda’s purple blouse to herself. “Chief, I’d like to introduce my son, Nick.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Brenda said with a grin, shaking the young man’s hand. “Look at you—you’re the spittin’ image of your mama.”
“Fortunately for him,” Sharon added, picturing her ex-husband’s bald spot and hairy back. She caught Nick rolling his eyes and threaded her arm around his, smiling wickedly at him.
“It’s nice to meet you as well. I’ve heard so much about you,” Nick replied, his dark eyes flicking between the chief and his mother.
“Have you?” Brenda frowned. “Don’t believe a thing she’s told you.”
The young man laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The chief smirked at Sharon. “Fritzi! Come say hi to Sharon and Nick!” Brenda smiled apologetically. “He’s just finishin’ up a casserole.”
“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” Sharon asked politely, hoping the offer would be declined.
“No!” Brenda said a little too quickly. “You’re our guests. No need to get your hands dirty.”
“I’m not going to burn down your house, chief.”
“I didn’t say that you would, captain.”
“Now now, girls,” Willie Rae interjected. “Enough with the ranks. We all already know that you’re both terribly important at the LAPD, but we’re all amongst friends here.”
Nick snorted. Sharon pinched his arm.
Fritz emerged from the kitchen and Sharon swallowed a laugh at the sight of his apron-clad form. He smiled warmly and, pausing to pick up Brenda’s discarded dishtowel and throw it over his shoulder, he came up behind his wife. “Good to see you, Sharon.” He extended his hand to Nick. “Welcome, Nick. I’m Fritz.”
Sharon immediately noted that her son brightened as he shook Fritz’s hand. She knew that look in his eye all too well and tightened her grip on his arm.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Fritz,” Nick replied with a wide smile. Sharon groaned inwardly.
“Dinner’s almost ready,” he announced, patting his wife’s shoulder. “Can I get anyone a drink?”
“There’s wine, cap—I mean, Sharon,” Brenda said. “Would you like some?”
“That would be lovely,” she answered, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.
“I’d love some too, thanks,” Nick added.
“I think not,” his mother sternly interjected.
“How old are you, young man?” Clay asked, taking a seat in the armchair.
Nick had the presence of mind to look coy. “Two months shy of twenty-one.”
“Shirley Temple it is then,” Fritz decided, smiling at Nick as he headed back into the kitchen. Sharon watched, horrified, as Nick’s head tilted a little as he watched him walk away.
“Let me help you, Fritz,” Willie Rae offered, squeezing Clay’s shoulder. “Y’all sit down and chat.”
As Sharon and Nick seated themselves on the couch, Nick leaned in close to his mother’s ear. “You are so busted.”
“Keep it up and I’ll take my name off your school loans,” Sharon warned quietly.
The young man heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. By the way, you never mentioned that Brenda’s husband is a fox.”
Sharon pursed her lips. “Must have slipped my mind.”
“Mmm…”
“Whatcha whisperin’ about?” Brenda asked nosily as she leaned against the arm of Clay’s chair.
Sharon balked. “Just how kind it was of your mother to invite us to join in the Johnson family festivities.”
“The more the merrier,” Clay chimed in. “Now, I think Brenda Leigh mentioned you having two children?”
“Yes. My eldest, Monica, is spending the holiday with her in-laws in Massachusetts.”
“How nice that you came to keep your mama company, Nick,” Brenda noted.
“He’s a mama’s boy, after all,” Sharon quipped with another wicked grin.
“Do you go to school around here?” Brenda questioned, her eyes focused on the young man. Sharon wondered if she should have warned him in advance about the chief’s habitual interrogations but decided that, after his little quips about her, he would manage just fine.
“I’m a senior at Berkley,” he replied. “Double majoring in art and political science.”
“An artist and a politician!” Clay marveled. “Didn’t know that combination existed.”
“Leave it to a Raydor,” Brenda chimed in.
“It’s true. We love a little variety in our lives,” Nick added as he caught his mother’s eyes straying to Brenda’s legs. Sharon bit the inside of her cheek and vowed to ground him for as long as he lived.
Willie Rae returned to the living room, pressing a glass of wine into Sharon’s hand. “Dinner’s ready. Brenda Leigh, will you help Fritz and I bring everything to the table?”
“Allow me, Mrs. Johnson,” Nick offered with more enthusiasm than Sharon had seen in months. He eagerly got to his feet. “It would be my pleasure to help.”
“Why thank you, Nick. Sharon, your son is just the politest young man we’ve met out here. You must be very proud of him.”
“You have no idea,” Sharon replied, eyeing the retreating form of her son. She took a gulp of her wine.
*
It took every ounce of effort for Sharon Raydor to resist checking her watch. Nick had gone as far as to threaten to confiscate it when he caught her looking before they began eating. Her left hand twitched and, rather than subtly rub her sweater against the tablecloth to “accidentally” reveal the time, she reached for her wine instead.
It wasn’t a disastrous Thanksgiving, but she was more uncomfortable than she would readily admit. It made her uneasy to be “Sharon” with people who weren’t her own family; being the unapproachable Captain Raydor was so much more effortless. At least, she reasoned, the Johnsons and Agent Howard couldn’t tell either way.
However, Nick could, and Sharon wished they had just stayed home.
“Sharon, would you like some more cornbread?” Brenda asked as she helped herself to another piece.
Sharon was stuffed and, quite honestly, hated cornbread, but she nodded anyway and tried not to slide out of her chair when their fingers touched. She noticed the corner of Nick’s mouth twitch in a barely noticeable smirk. She kicked his leg beneath the table.
“So, Nick,” Clay said, laying down his napkin after dabbing his moustache, “whaddya do for fun at school? I bet you’re quite the ladies man.”
Sharon stiffened and carefully gauged her son’s reaction. As usual, he was unreadable.
“Not exactly,” Nick replied carefully, scratching the dark red hair at the back of his head. “More of a man’s man, really.” He gamely held Clay’s stare.
“Ah. That so? One of my cousins is a homosexual. Great man, that Gary,” Clay continued, seemingly unperturbed by Nick’s admission.
Sharon released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and noted the faintest expression of relief cross her son’s features. Curiously, she cast a glance at Brenda across from her and felt the knot in her stomach loosen when the blonde smiled reassuringly.
“D’you have a boyfriend then, Nick?” Willie Rae pressed.
Nick cleared his throat. “Uh, no. Not at the moment.” Sharon’s heart sank when his jaw twitched. He smiled tightly and dropped his napkin on the table. “If you’ll just excuse me for a minute—“ And, without waiting to see if he had actually been excused, Nick retreated through the living room and out the front door.
All eyes turned to Sharon. She sighed.
“Did we say the wrong thing?” Willie Rae asked, a look of concern on her face.
“No, not at all. Nick’s boyfriend recently broke up with him. He’s not taking it very well.” Sharon pursed her lips. “I should check on him.”
Sharon was secretly relieved to have an excuse to duck out of the house. She found Nick sitting on the step. He was composed, staring out into nothing. She sat down beside him.
“Nick?”
“Sorry, mom. I just…needed some fresh air.” He forced a smile. “I didn’t want to risk crying at the dinner table. Talk about mortifying, huh?”
She sighed resolutely and pressed her hand against his shoulder. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you here. I should have known you weren’t ready. I just thought it would be good for you to get out of the house.”
“So I could mope about Barry in public instead of in the comfort of my room?” Catching the crestfallen expression on her face, Nick quickly backpedaled. “No, you were right, as usual. I needed to get out.”
Sharon gave a soft laugh. “Maybe we should have gone out to eat instead of coming here. They can be a bit much.”
“I like them. They’re…friendly. Definitely not like your side of the family…or dad’s for that matter.”
“It’s certainly a change of pace.”
“Monica would be horrified though. Okra? Cornbread? She’d go batshit.”
“She always was a picky eater.”
“I bet she’s eating plain turkey and mashed potatoes right now.” He chuckled, taking off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. “Remember that one Christmas where she refused to eat anything except buttered noodles?”
Sharon laughed. “Yes. You always were the adventurous one when it came to food.”
“And everything else.”
She nodded. “Mmm. My brave little man.” She squeezed his arm. “I think we’ve got the better deal, don’t you?”
Nick rubbed his belly. “Definitely. Besides, Monica’s in-laws don’t have a Fritz…”
Sharon swatted his arm. “Oh stop.”
“What! He’s dreamy, okay?”
Sharon shrugged dismissively. “I suppose so.”
“I guess you just haven’t noticed, have you?”
As she narrowed her eyes at him, the front door opened and Brenda stuck her head out. “Am I interruptin’?”
“Of course you are,” Sharon quipped. She patted the stoop beside her. “Come join us.”
Brenda grinned and stepped outside, holding out a plate for Nick before sitting down next to Sharon. “Chocolate mousse pie. If you’re anythin’ like me, then you know that chocolate is the best remedy for a broken heart there is.”
Nick smiled and Sharon’s heart warmed at Brenda’s thoughtfulness.
“I’m sorry for just leaving like that,” he said, taking a bite of the pie.
“Don’t you worry. Everyone needs a little space…especially on the holidays,” Brenda conceded. “They won’t hold it against you. Do you want some pie, Sharon? I could run in and grab you a piece.”
Nick had the grace to turn his snort into a cough. Sharon nudged him with her hip. “I’m fine. Thank you, Brenda.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not a dessert eater…”
“Oh she is,” Nick insisted. “She loves pie.”
Sharon would kill him. “I’m a little full, chief. Later. I promise.”
“You better…or I’m gonna have to start questionin’ your sanity.”
“We’ve been doing that for years, Brenda,” Nick added.
Sharon turned to Nick and widened her eyes in warning. “Cute. Really. Very cute. Why don’t you make yourself useful and see if anyone needs any help inside.”
“Oh don’t you worry about that,” Brenda interjected. “Mama’s doin’ the dishes and Fritzi’s puttin’ the food away. My daddy’s tryin’ to find the football game.”
Nick visibly perked. “Well, maybe I can give Fritz a hand…” He handed his half-eaten pie to his mother and leapt to his feet. “Thanks, Brenda.” He looked down at the two of them, raised his eyebrows, and stepped inside.
“Your son’s very polite.”
“You sound surprised.”
Brenda smiled. “I guess I wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s hard picturin’ you as a mother.” She paused for a moment, watching Sharon as she ate a bite of pie. “But that’s what you intended, isn’t it?”
“Hmm?”
“You’re very private about your private life.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You don’t have to be, y’know. You can let your friends in on occasion.”
“Like you?”
Brenda beamed. “Yes. Friends like me.”
Sharon smiled and forced herself to look away from the achingly beautiful smile on the chief’s face. “This is good pie,” she finally said, taking another bite.
“Thank you! I bought it myself!” Brenda leaned in conspiratorially and dragged her finger over a crumb on the plate. She brought it to her lips and sucked the chocolate away. “Only don’t tell my mama. She thinks I made it myself.”
The captain laughed. “Of course she does.” Shaking her head, she looked at Brenda. “Your secret is safe with me.”
*
Sharon gratefully accepted the large glass of sangria that Nick handed her before he slumped beside her on the sofa, extending his legs to rest on the coffee table. He hit ‘play’ and smiled when the opening credits of Funny Girl began to roll across the screen.
He extended his glass. “Here’s to you, me, and Babs.”
Sharon snorted and clinked her glass against his. “Happy Thanksgiving, Nicky.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t so bad after all, was it?”
Sharon remembered blonde curls and pink, glossy lips and the quiet moment outside. “You’re right. It was nice.”
They were quite for a minute. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
She considered lying, but what was the point? Nick already knew the answer. “Unfortunately.”
He nodded, sipping quietly on his drink. “Mom?”
“Yes, baby?”
He looked at her seriously. “You know…people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”
Sharon snorted with laughter. “You little shit,” she cried, smacking him in the arm.
Nick dodged a second smack. “Hey, watch the drink! I can’t help it if there’s a Streisand song for every occasion.”
“Couldn’t you have been one of those Cher-loving gays? Why did I get stuck with a Barbra fanatic?”
“Just lucky I guess.”
Sharon smiled at her son and felt her chest grow warm to see the youthful smile on his face. He would be okay and maybe, if she was lucky, she would be too.
She frowned. Offhand, she could think of at least two different Streisand songs about luck. They’d be stuck in her head until the end of time.
If she was lucky, there’d still be time for a crime scene to turn up.
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