Home in Time for Christmas by Heather Graham Page B

Jake’s voice that rang sincerely.
    Just as if he’d really been there at the time.
    â€œI wrote about it, of course,” Jake continued. “I made a few enemies, and certainly rhetoric spun around and around, and you must remember, certain of those men did despise one another. Of course, I was never in that inner circle, but my realm surrounded it, and it’s important to remember that we forced ourselves to make compromises, to rise above our own personalities. It doesn’t mean that it was perfect, little in life is ever perfect. But we made it work, despite ourselves.”
    George and Mona were staring at Jake, dumbstruck.
    â€œHe’s gone into guide mode,” Melody said hastily.
    Jake stared at her. His eyes widened with alarm, and he quickly turned to George. “Sorry, I suppose I did go into… guide mode. Mrs. Tarleton, the meat loaf, as all else, is wonderfully palatable, quite delicious, really. Thank you so much for the kindness of this meal.”
    â€œUm—you’re welcome,” Mona said quickly.
    â€œAll right, looks like we’re all done here!” Melody said, rising. She snatched her brother’s plate and her own. She started to reach across the table for Jake’s.
    â€œMelody,” her mother protested, “Jake is still eating!”
    â€œHe just has that last bite and he’s all done!” she said cheerfully. “Right, Jake? Scoop it on in.”
    He chewed his last bite; the fork was barely off the plate before Melody had it in her hands. She breezed through the swinging kitchen door, then returned inseconds flat for the rest of the plates. Jake, who had risen after his last mouthful, was collecting more of the dinnerware.
    â€œLemonade back in the refrigerator, please!” she said.
    â€œMy goodness, they’re in a hurry,” Mona said.
    â€œClubbing,” George told her knowingly.
    â€œResponsibly!” Mona added.
    â€œNo, Mom,” Melody said. “We’re all going to get completely wasted, do a few drugs, maybe go park somewhere in the woods where we know that slashers in masks come to attack the foolish young people. It will be great.”
    â€œWhere did we go wrong?” George groaned.
    â€œWell, we didn’t actually go wrong,” Mona said. “They’re just very mouthy children. Come on, old fellow, let’s go get comfy in the family room and leave this all to them!”
    With her brother and Jake, it was quick and easy for Melody to get everything picked up and done; Keith was a twenty-first-century guy, much like her father, ready to pitch in with housework, babies, whatever might come his way. Jake seemed ready to fall right in, too.
    His fascination with the dishwasher was endless. He seemed to have gotten the concept of the indoor plumbing down all right, but the dishwasher still amazed him.
    â€œHe might go crazy vacuuming,” Keith whispered. “We need to show him how!”
    She jabbed her brother in the elbow.
    â€œWe should be watching DVDs,” she said. “He has a lot more history to go through—we could show him Defiance, or All’s Quiet on the Western Front, or Pale Rider, or The Unforgiven, or—”
    â€œWe can start a moviefest in the morning,” Keith said. “Come on, let’s go clubbing. Cut a rug, all that stuff.”
    â€œCut a rug? What, now you fell out of the last decades, too?” Melody demanded.
    â€œHustle and shout, baby,” Keith teased.
    â€œHustle and shout? Is that like a rebel yell?” Jake asked.
    â€œKind of. My brother insists that you want to see the current pickup mode. Bar hopping, or clubbing. A bunch of drunk people sit around in ridiculous outfits. Sometimes they dance. The music is loud enough to blast your ears. Sometimes, they ask each other questions like, ‘What sign are you?’ Sometimes they’re honest, and just try to buy each other drinks—or get right