together at the big table, “the Grandma problem” seems forgotten. Everyone has con-tributed a dish or two, including the thirty- pound turkey Tyler's mom cooked in their oven and drove over, since she was so worried about a spill. Grandma has baked all the pies, and the Mexicans have brought over some refried beans and tortillas. Of course, Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Byron made an entrance with some fancy cheeses that are so smelly Tyler wouldn't get close to them, much less put them in his mouth.
They go around the table saying their thanks, theslowpokes being urged with coughs to move along. By the time it's Tyler's turn, everyone is too hungry to listen to one more thank- you. Tyler doesn't have to say much—something else to be thankful for. “Thank you for my dad getting cured.” Next to him, his mom squeezes his hand gratefully.
The Marías and their father and uncles are all too shy to say anything. But after Mari translates what's being asked of the guests, her father says thank you to the Paquettes for making them feel like family. His two brothers chime in,
“Gracias.”
“We call it Día de Acción de Gracias,” Ofie tells the table.
“The Day of Saying Thank You,” Luby translates.
“Well, thank you and
gracias
to each and every one of you,” Grandma finally ends the round.
Before anybody can add anything else, Uncle Larry is carving up the turkey and telling everyone to hand over their plates before it's Christmas.
It's late by the time the meal is done and the Mexican workers head off for the evening milking. Mom convinces their father to let the three Marías stay a little longer. The two youngest have especially hit it off with the nine-year-old twins, who treat Luby and Ofie like real-life dolls, dressing them up in their hand-me-downs they brought in a bag. Meanwhile, Mari is busy helping Grandma with the dishes. “What a doll!” Aunt Vicky whispers to Tyler's mom, who agrees, “They all are.”
Tyler heads for the front room, where Ben and his dad and uncle and boy cousins are all watching the footballgame. During a lull, Uncle Larry starts telling Dad how a pal in the sheriff's department dropped by to let him know that things are heating up for Mexicans in the area. Three were picked up just last week walking down the road to a milking barn. Two more were taken away after a trooper stopped them for speeding and the driver didn't have a license or a current registration for the used car he'd bought off another worker who'd left to go back to Mexico.
Tyler had stopped worrying about the Mexicans working on the farm, but, hearing Uncle Larry, he starts worrying again. Except that now he doesn't really want Mari and her family to go away. He wants the law to be changed so they can stay, helping his family as well as themselves.
“I tell Vicky, don't get too attached,” Uncle Larry is saying. “It's just a matter of time.”
“Did I hear my name being used in vain?” Aunt Vicky has come from the kitchen, where the cleaning up is winding down.
“Nothing, dear.” Uncle Larry motions toward the TV, where some tricky play is in progress. His team messes up, and he turns his attention back to his wife. “Just talking about our friend's visit from the sheriff's department.”
Aunt Vicky sinks into the arm of her husband's chair with a sigh. “I just don't see how we're expected to survive.”
Tyler's mom has joined them in the front room. “Where's Jeanne?” she asks. They all know Uncle Byron is in the small front parlor reading the
New York Times,
which he reads every day to keep up with the state of the world.
“You and Larry, two peas in a pod,” Aunt Vicky likes to say. Turns out Uncle Larry reads his weekly
Valley Voice
down to the classifieds. Every time Aunt Vicky says so, Uncle Byron's distinguished- professor eyebrows arch ever so slightly at the comparison.
“I think she went upstairs to check on the girls,” Aunt Vicky answers Mom. “They're in the attic playing
They go around the table saying their thanks, theslowpokes being urged with coughs to move along. By the time it's Tyler's turn, everyone is too hungry to listen to one more thank- you. Tyler doesn't have to say much—something else to be thankful for. “Thank you for my dad getting cured.” Next to him, his mom squeezes his hand gratefully.
The Marías and their father and uncles are all too shy to say anything. But after Mari translates what's being asked of the guests, her father says thank you to the Paquettes for making them feel like family. His two brothers chime in,
“Gracias.”
“We call it Día de Acción de Gracias,” Ofie tells the table.
“The Day of Saying Thank You,” Luby translates.
“Well, thank you and
gracias
to each and every one of you,” Grandma finally ends the round.
Before anybody can add anything else, Uncle Larry is carving up the turkey and telling everyone to hand over their plates before it's Christmas.
It's late by the time the meal is done and the Mexican workers head off for the evening milking. Mom convinces their father to let the three Marías stay a little longer. The two youngest have especially hit it off with the nine-year-old twins, who treat Luby and Ofie like real-life dolls, dressing them up in their hand-me-downs they brought in a bag. Meanwhile, Mari is busy helping Grandma with the dishes. “What a doll!” Aunt Vicky whispers to Tyler's mom, who agrees, “They all are.”
Tyler heads for the front room, where Ben and his dad and uncle and boy cousins are all watching the footballgame. During a lull, Uncle Larry starts telling Dad how a pal in the sheriff's department dropped by to let him know that things are heating up for Mexicans in the area. Three were picked up just last week walking down the road to a milking barn. Two more were taken away after a trooper stopped them for speeding and the driver didn't have a license or a current registration for the used car he'd bought off another worker who'd left to go back to Mexico.
Tyler had stopped worrying about the Mexicans working on the farm, but, hearing Uncle Larry, he starts worrying again. Except that now he doesn't really want Mari and her family to go away. He wants the law to be changed so they can stay, helping his family as well as themselves.
“I tell Vicky, don't get too attached,” Uncle Larry is saying. “It's just a matter of time.”
“Did I hear my name being used in vain?” Aunt Vicky has come from the kitchen, where the cleaning up is winding down.
“Nothing, dear.” Uncle Larry motions toward the TV, where some tricky play is in progress. His team messes up, and he turns his attention back to his wife. “Just talking about our friend's visit from the sheriff's department.”
Aunt Vicky sinks into the arm of her husband's chair with a sigh. “I just don't see how we're expected to survive.”
Tyler's mom has joined them in the front room. “Where's Jeanne?” she asks. They all know Uncle Byron is in the small front parlor reading the
New York Times,
which he reads every day to keep up with the state of the world.
“You and Larry, two peas in a pod,” Aunt Vicky likes to say. Turns out Uncle Larry reads his weekly
Valley Voice
down to the classifieds. Every time Aunt Vicky says so, Uncle Byron's distinguished- professor eyebrows arch ever so slightly at the comparison.
“I think she went upstairs to check on the girls,” Aunt Vicky answers Mom. “They're in the attic playing
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