008

The kitchen in the Stryfe home was as warm as a blast-furnace and smelled of rich and wonderful foods. The timer above the double oven was about to go off. It had truly been years since Kaitlynn had made a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner, but this year she'd done it in style. There were two pies cooling on the windowsill— both caramel apple and pumpkin. She'd cooked a twenty-pound turkey, coating it in butter and strips of bacon like her grandmother used to. She'd even made her grandmother's famous chestnut and sage stuffing, although she'd tinkered a little with the seasonings, putting her own spin on the timeless recipe. The timer began to ding just as she finished mashing the potatoes.

"Alex," she called, knowing her husband was lurking somewhere in the house, "darling can you come take the turkey out of the oven for me?"

His footsteps echoed through as he made his way towards the kitchen, sliding on a pair of oven mitts and dressed in a blue dress shirt and slacks. Pulling the door open, he reached inside and grabbed the turkey and slid it out before quickly turning and placing it on the table next to the centerpiece. "Living out of hotels as much as we do, I had almost forgotten how domestic you could be. I would have been happy to order something for us; you didn't have to make anything if you didn't want to." He responded as he headed back into the kitchen with her.

"I know," she said with a tired smile, "but I wanted to feel useful. Making something with my own hands is nice once in a while. And you're more than welcome to hire someone to clean up the mess afterwards." She winked as she spooned the creamy potatoes into a crystal bowl before carrying it to the table. Once she set that down she turned and looked her husband over, smiling at how handsome he looked. "Come, sit down. Let me spoil you with fattening foods!"

"Well I'll refrain from getting too large, would prefer not to be wholly unattractive to my wife, with all due respect." He responded before heading back into the dining room and picking up the knife on the table before he began to slice the modest sized turkey baked to a golden brown on the table in front of him. "I never cared much for Thanksgiving too much, to be fair. Growing up, I always had to spend it with family members whom essentially used it to ask my father for loans. He always gave, they always said thanks." Part of the remark was meant to be humorous, giving his bride a wink as he could see her over the counter separating the rooms.

"Thanksgiving was always special to me growing up," she said as she joined him at the table, carrying two glasses and a bottle of red wine. "My grandmother did all the cooking. She used to make these horrendous lime Jell-O salads that still give me nightmares to think of. But it was always warm and cozy." She slid into her seat and watched him carving up the bird. "I guess we came from two different worlds, there. But I could teach you to love this day, if you let me."

"Oh? I'd be curious to see how you would go about that. I don't dislike it; I just have few fond memories of it. My least fond memory came about when I was much older, and that was when Jacob brought Amy to dine with us. I didn't much care for her then; she was a bit too forward. Short black dress at the dinner table, Jacob barely kept his mind on the meal." Alex rolled his eyes with a half smirk on his face as he finished carving up the bird and took a seat. "Of course now...I'd pay to have Amy married to him as opposed to Katherine."

"Ugh," she frowned, making a sound of disgust at the mention of her sister-in-law. "There's someone I am definitely NOT thankful for."

"Yes, well we could start a club. I have never really approved of anyone he's ever found himself involved with. Though my least disliked would have been Isabella." He just shook his head as he began to set things on his plate, after slicing a bit of the turkey off and placing it on his wife's plate. Then grabbing his glass after filling both his and hers with wine, he raised it. "To a lifetime of far better Thanksgiving memories than the ones we have had! And to spending it with those who matter the most in our lives."

"To love and happiness as well," she added, clinking the rim of her glass against his. She took a long drink of the wine, savoring it before setting down her glass. "Darling, you should try some of that stuffing. It's an old family recipe."

He glanced at it for a moment, reaching forward and scooping up a portion out before placing it on his plate. "Well you must remind me to thank the old family that gave it to you."

"I had to make a slight alteration. I couldn't find any fresh tarragon at the market, so I had to settle for the dried stuff. It doesn't quite have a perfect flavor," she sighed, taking a mouthful of turkey and chewing it slowly before continuing, "my grandma would probably lose her head over that sort of substitution." She shrugged, "but I figure it's just you and I eating, and I'm not likely to win Iron Chef any time soon."

He began eating it first, nodding his head as he washed it down. "Well that's alright. If you really want the cooking show feel, I'm sure I could scream out 'BAM!' every so often. And if I eat enough of the things you've made, I'll probably start to look like Emeril as well."

"I doubt you'd ever end up that hideous," she said with a little laugh, reaching over to take his hand as he released his glass. "You could weigh as much as Rose Jenkins and I would still love you." She smiled as she looked deep into his eyes, love and adoration reflected in her gaze. "I don't care about silly things like that. I care about how wonderful you are on the inside."

"That is much appreciated. As for looking like Rose Jenkins, that would make one of us who would still love me as a result." He responded.

Within the span of the next half hour, the couple had eaten as much as either could stand and were now enjoying the vintage red wine Alex had bought for the occasion. After a long yawn, he leaned against the table, hands clasped as his eyes seemed heavy. "You did an outstanding job as always. You certainly deserve your own cooking show. I am most certain I'd watch."

"You would probably watch me read the nightly news... in a nun's habit... while reciting in Portugese." She giggled at the thought, definitely feeling a little tipsy from the combination of tryptophan and red wine, "so really, your opinion on the subject is quite biased." She cocked her head, watching him struggle to keep his eyes from drooping, "should we retire to the living room? I feel like I need to sit down on something softer than these chairs."

"By all means." He yawned again, shaking his head as he stood up. "I hope you will forgive me, but this turkey seems to have worked its magic with surprising speed. Would you think terribly of me if I stretched out in our room and took a bit of a nap?"

She rose to her feet and faked a yawn behind her hand, "of course not, darling. I'm definitely feeling a little fatigued myself." She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll just tidy up some of these dishes and then join you."

"I shall await your presence." He answered, heading off up the hallway and disappearing after emitting another rather protracted yawn.

She leaned against the chair she'd been sitting in, straining her ears for any sounds he might be making. After it had been quiet for a few minutes, she picked up some of their dishes and carried them into the kitchen, scraping the remains into the trash atop the empty trial-sized bottle of Ambien. Smirking to herself, she reached into the pocket of her dress pants and withdrew her cell phone, quickly typing in a text message:

Can't stop thinking of you. Want to meet?
K.

She sent it, staring at the screen with such intensity that she was startled when it buzzed in her hand. The response had come within a matter of moments.

Supposed to spend 2day with people you are thankful for. On the way over.
CK