Family Ties

Christy looked at me like I’d just won the Pritzker Prize. Anne congratulated me with a smile and then gently herded the women back into the kitchen.

“All right, can the chatter,” Harold said at last. “Let’s see if he can do it again. Danny, shuffle and deal.” He looked at me with a mixture of amusement and genuine rivalry. “I have my eye on you now.”

We spent the next several hours playing, and I didn’t score higher than fourth. Harold won the second game and Rich the third. They analyzed and relived each game, although never with any real anger.

“Must’ve been beginner’s luck,” Danny said to me as he shuffled for the next game.

“I dunno,” his oldest brother mused. “He never laid down anything you could use.”

“He never had anything I needed.”

“No,” I said, “I was holding a four and a seven in that last round. Your dad never gave me anything, so I kept drawing. I held on to the diamonds since that’s what you were picking up.”

“In your face,” Jim taunted his brother.

Danny gave me a pained look. “And I was so nice to you.”

“Sorry. I play to win.”

“Evidently,” he grumbled, although he definitely approved.

Anne stuck her head out of the kitchen. She surveyed the table and saw that we were between games.

“We’ll be ready to eat in about forty-five minutes,” she said.

“All right, gentlemen,” Harold said, “secure the cards.”

“Danny,” Anne said, “will you and Paul set the table? Rich, you and Terry can fold the napkins and bring the centerpieces in from the family room. Harry, bring the dessert trolley in from the garage, please. James, will you decant the wine and set out the whiskey on the drinks tray? Steven, you come with me and help set the kids’ table.”

“You heard the lady,” Harold said to everyone. “Chop-chop.”

The Carmichael Thanksgiving was a rollicking mixture of traditional food and lively conversation. Harold said a typical Catholic grace—“Bless us, O

Lord, and these, Thy gifts…”—and then used an electric knife to carve the massive turkey.

We passed the plates instead of the serving dishes, and everyone drank wine. The talk steered clear of politics, but anything else was fair game, from children’s books to violence on TV. I had a surprising conversation with Danny and Sabrina about nudity in the movies. She and I agreed it was fine, while he was more prudish.

When everyone had eaten their fill and then some, Anne and Marianne brought out the dessert trolley. They cut slices of mincemeat and pumpkin pies and added huge dollops of real whipped cream. Christy ate an enormous slice of Lynne’s chocolate cake, while I had a much smaller piece. Rich must’ve eaten a dozen cookies that the girls had decorated especially for him.

Danny was eating a piece of pie when he pretended to bite into something hard. I tapped Christy’s knee to get her attention.

Watch this, I told her with a look.

Marianne quietly slipped to the kitchen door and stuck her head through.

Danny played it up and tried to figure out what he’d bitten into. Sabrina grew concerned. Out of her sight, Marianne held open the kitchen door as the kids silently crept into the room. Danny pursed his lips and made it look like he pulled out a diamond ring. He held it up in surprise.

“Someone must’ve lost a ring in the mincemeat pie.”

Lynne made a show of checking her left hand. “No, I have mine.”

“It isn’t mine.” Marianne showed us her own ring finger.

“Not mine either,” Anne said.

“Birdy?” he asked.

“Oh, Danny, I wish!”

Everyone chuckled except Danny, who looked at the ring in confusion.

Sabrina still hadn’t caught on.

“Well… that’s odd,” he said at last. “Who’s missing an engagement ring?”

Marianne signaled the kids. Their high voices chorused, “Sabrina is!”

Her hand flew to her mouth and she stared at him with wide, misty eyes.

Danny knelt in front of her and took her left hand.

The whole table fell silent.

“Sabrina Claire Sharpe,” he said slowly, “will you do me the honor—”

Christy squeezed my hand.

“—the very great honor… of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, Danny… yes!”

He slid the ring onto her finger to cheers and applause.

Sabrina blinked back tears of joy as she stood and showed the ring to the other women. The rest of us shook Danny’s hand and congratulated him.

“This calls for a toast,” Harold said when the din quieted.

Jim went to the drinks tray and poured twelve glasses of the good stuff.

Harold raised his and waited for everyone to grow quiet. “Daniel, you’re a good man and a fine Marine, and I couldn’t be prouder. Sabrina, you’re a beautiful, devoted woman, and I know you love him with all your heart.”

“I do.”

“Not yet,” Danny stage-whispered.

Harold laughed with the rest of us and then smiled indulgently. “Danny, Sabrina… May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings, slow to make enemies, quick to make friends. But rich or poor, quick or slow, may you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. Sláinte.”

“Sláinte!”