Family Ties

Danny and Terry talked about The Right Stuff. Rich held Grace on his lap and pulled apart cinnamon rolls to feed her pieces while he talked to Jim. She looked like a little blonde bird, and they ate a half-dozen rolls between them.

I sat back and people-watched until I realize that Christy was doing the same to me. She smiled ear-to-ear when I looked at her.

“All right,” I said as though it was a grudging admission, “they’re pretty awesome.”

She beamed. “I knew you’d love them.”

I caught Anne looking at us. She nodded once and then returned her attention to Lynne and Sabrina.

A part of me had been worried that I’d stand out or be the center of attention (or worse). But they more or less ignored me. No, that wasn’t true.

They treated me like I was already part of the family.

Harry and Marianne arrived a little after ten, and I briefly saw their youngest, a four-year-old boy named Hal (Harold III on his birth certificate). After quick hugs for his grandparents, he ran back outside to play with John and Grace.

Harry was another good-looking Carmichael, basically a younger version of his father, albeit with the deeper blue of his mother’s eyes. He shook my hand and greeted me politely. Marianne looked a lot like Lynne. The women shared their mother-in-law’s blonde hair and blue eyes, but they were both several inches taller. And where Lynne tended to fade into the background, Marianne had the old-money charm and personality to match Anne’s. She smiled and gave me a welcoming hug.

“We’re so glad to meet you,” she said. “How do you like San Diego?”

“It’s nice,” I said. “The weather especially. It’s usually cold and rainy this time of year in Knoxville.”

“Oh, I know. I’m from back East too. Baltimore. Is this your first time in California?”

“He was born here,” Christy said.

“In San Diego?”

“Yeah. My uncle was stationed here,” I explained, “and my parents were visiting.”

“Oh, that’s right!” she said. “Birdy said your father was in the Navy. He flew jets, right?”

“Mmm hmm. A-4s. My uncle flew fighters, F-4s.”

“That’s what Harry started in. Then he transitioned to the F-14, so now we’re stationed here, at Miramar. But tell me more about you. Your father

works for the airlines now, doesn’t he? And you grew up in Atlanta?”

I told her about myself for a few minutes, until Anne sensed a lull in the conversation.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But we should get to work in the kitchen.”

“Duty calls,” Marianne said to me with a smile.

“Christine, dear,” her mother said, “run and find Virginia and Amber.

They can help too.”

Christy lingered and gave me a kiss after the other women had left. Then she grinned and dashed off to find her nieces.

I thought the men would watch television or play football or do something typically manly (since the women were off doing “womanly”

things in the kitchen), but they surprised me. They cleared the dining room table and began shuffling cards.

“Ever played Rummy?” Danny asked Terry and me.

“Sure, of course.”

Terry nodded.

“All right,” Danny said. “The game is Florida Rummy…”

He explained the rules. It seemed simple enough, basically a variant of the game I already knew, but with several rounds that had different requirements to lay down. The Carmichaels took the game to a near-religious level of intensity. Danny explained that they played at every big family get-together and kept track of wins and losses like other families remembered birthdays and anniversaries.

The game was actually a lot more complicated than I realized, especially since the goal changed every round. But I surprised everyone, myself included, when I won the first game. I’d had a stupendous amount of luck with my draws, but I also had a good memory for what cards people were picking up and discarding. The Carmichaels collectively groaned when Jim read out the scores and mine was highest.

“Birdy!” Danny shouted toward the kitchen. “Come in here!”

She stuck her head around the door and looked at us, wide-eyed and more than a little anxious.

“You brought us a ringer, didn’t you?” he accused. “Did you teach him how to play?”

“No, I swear! Why? What happened?”

“He won,” Jim said flatly. He may have been laid-back normally, but he

took his cards as seriously as everyone else in the family.

“He did?” Her eyes went wider still. “He did!” She turned and almost shouted into the kitchen, “Mom! Paul won! Florida!”

Anne appeared a moment later, followed by the other women.

“He won all right,” Harold said to their surprised expressions.

Anne’s grin was almost as delighted as Christy’s.

Harry groused, “No thanks to you, Dad. You fed him practically every card he laid down!”

“How was I supposed to know he was sandbagging us?”

“He probably cheated,” Rich said, although he wasn’t serious.

Harold shook his head in disbelief. Then he glared at Jim. “I’d’ve won if you hadn’t been so stingy with those eights last round.”

“I needed ’em too. It’s your own fault you were trying for middle runs.”

The conversation devolved into blame and mostly friendly accusations.