Black Stump Ridge by John Manning; Forrest Hedrick Page A

turkey with a gusto that rivaled any big cat on a fresh kill. He glanced at his sister-in-law and her fur coat. Fred figured that the only thing faux about it was the avowed animal rights sentiments of the person inside.
    “And, how are you doing, Anne?” Fred smiled despite the frosty expression on her face. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
    “And, to you, Frederick.” Her eyes squinted and her lips pursed as though she’d bitten into something sour. She pulled her coat tightly about herself as if to shield her body from any lascivious glance he might cast over her. “It’s cold out here.”
    Especially since you arrived , he thought. “Well, why don’t you go inside while Bill and I help Mom get this bounty up to the kitchen. When you get up there would you send the guys down to lend a hand, too, please?”
    Twenty minutes later the SUV was unloaded and the kitchen island filled with covered pans and bowls. The four boxes turned out to contain pies — pumpkin, cherry, apple, and pecan. One covered roasting pan held a twenty-four pound turkey while a sugar-cured ham rested in a smaller one. A cornucopia of candied yams, mashed potatoes, jellied cranberry sauce, cornbread stuffing, oyster stuffing, fruit salad, a green bean casserole, devilled eggs, and sweet, yellow corn filled the remaining vessels.
    Johnny looked at the bounty. “Let me help you warm this up.”
    “What? A man working in the kitchen?” Fred’s mother turned to the oven and set the dial. “I’ve been doing this for more than fifty years, now, without any help. I think I can handle it. You just go back and watch your game.”
    “That man is great in the kitchen, Mom,” Fred countered. “You really ought to take him up on his offer.”
    “Yeah, right,” Anne sniffed. “The only thing a man’s good for in the kitchen is washing the dishes and taking out the trash. And then only with a woman’s constant supervision.”
    Fred glanced at William. He looked away and said nothing.
    “It’s Thanksgiving, Anne.” Fred’s mom gave Anne a sharp look and then turned to Johnny. “Well, young man…“
    “Johnny.”
    She nodded. “Johnny. Well, Johnny, if you want to pitch in, who am I to say no. You can put the turkey in that oven while I get the other oven ready for the ham.”
    “Sure thing, ma’m.”
    “Just call me Edith.”
    “Okay, Edith.”
    As Johnny went around the island to help, William and Anne followed Fred into the front room. The others were seated on the couch and easy chairs watching the game. Kansas City had just punted the ball. The Lions receiver caught it on the twenty-three, ran to the right, broke free, and was racing toward the end zone. Suddenly, the picture changed, replaced by a movie.
    “Hey!”
    “What happened?”
    “What the hell?”
    Everyone turned. Anne stood behind the couch, the remote control in her right hand and pointed at the TV. “What? You didn’t think I came all the way out here to sit and watch some stupid football game, did you?”
    Fred reached over and plucked the remote from her hand. He changed the channel back to the game. The Lions were setting up for the point after attempt.
    “Anne, you may do whatever you please. You may read, help Mom, or you may go play with yourself in the bathroom for all I care. On this TV, however, there will be football. Not only this game, but the Dallas game, too.”
    Anne glared at him. Her nostrils flared. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to come up with something biting to say. Fred thought of a landed fish trying to breathe air. She finally turned and stormed out of the room.
    Dave followed Anne’s exit with his eyes. He looked at Fred after she was gone. “I’ll bet she doesn’t hear that very often. Play with herself in the bathroom?”
    “It was all I could think of at the moment.” Fred turned to William. “Sorry, Bro. I guess I just ruined your lovin’ for awhile.”
    “Probably improved it,” Peete quipped.
    William shook his head.