Purely Relative (2 page)

“So nice to finally meet the mystery woman Jon’s been so
tight-lipped about for months,” Jon’s mother said. 

What does that mean?
“Very nice to meet you, Mrs.
Cripps, and thank you for inviting me to your Thanksgiving dinner.”
Should I
hug her, kiss her on both cheeks, shake her hand, do nothing? Eek!

She reached for my hands with both of hers and pulled me
closer. “Please call me Julie.” She continued to hold my hands, wondering what,
I didn’t know.

“The boys always love the blondes, don’t they, Giuliana?”
Sophia said. Her tinkling laughter provided flimsy cover for the fangs in her
remark. “Or so we’ve heard.” The snicker that followed implied she’d heard a
lot more, too.

My smile fell and I blinked hard
several times.
Please God, do not let Jenny have been gossiping about me.

Jon's mother hadn’t said another word, but had continued to
scrutinize me like a roast in a butcher shop. I was so doomed. Jon cleared his
throat and took me by the arm.

Julie released my hands and smiled. “Why don’t we all go
where there’s more room. Everything is nearly ready to go, we just need to let
the turkey have another five minutes or so.” Though she had broken off her
assessment, she shared none of her conclusions.

Jon led me back the way we came and into a soaring two-story
family room. Waiting for us there was his sister, Jenny. She had her back
turned and was talking to two large men. I assumed they were Jon’s father and
her fiancé of five years from their likenesses to the photos I had seen in her
home.

“You’re here!” Julie rushed past Jon and me to hug her much
taller daughter and kiss her future son-in-law.

“Scott didn’t like the wine I chose so we had to make a
quick stop to buy another. You haven’t started yet, have you?” Jenny handed a
bottle to her mother. Her eyes immediately landed on me. “Oh! Jon and Gayle are
here!” A few steps and she stood in front of me, all six feet of her in heels.
I felt like a fern amongst sequoias. She extended her hand, saying, “I’m Jenny,”
and then winked at me. “So nice to finally meet you, Gayle.”

A loud release of breath surprised me. I hadn’t realized I
had trapped that much anticipatory angst inside. I shook the hand she extended.
“Very nice to meet you, too, Jenny.”

Maybe the evening wouldn’t be too bad.

Jenny excused herself and followed her mother into the
kitchen, leaving us with Jenny’s fiancé, Scott, and Jon’s father.

Jon shook hands with Scott. “Good to see you again. Last one
work out for you?”

Scott wrinkled his brow. “Context brother. Need some.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “The alternator belt.”

“Oh! Yes, yes, perfect,” Scott said. He drifted my way and I
caught a brief flicker of appreciation as his perusal covered me from head to
toe with a second glance at my chest.
Crap
! He knew. Of course he knew.

Jon stepped closer to me and draped his arm over my
shoulder, possessive and protective. “This is Scott, Jenny’s fiancé. Scott,
Gayle.”

Scott took my hand and shook it. Staring me in the eye he
said, “I’ve heard a lot about you.” No wink like Jenny but he knew, no doubt
about it. “It was like pulling teeth at first. It always is with Jon.”

“He’s not so bad once you get the secret decoder ring.” I
smiled and gazed up at Jon, who looked so handsome it almost hurt. Why was he
with me anyway?

“Yeah, yeah. Scott is a private pilot for one of the bigwig
companies in the Las Colinas area.” Jon’s hold did not loosen but remained fast
on my shoulders. Odd.

“Hey, it pays the bills,” Scott said with a smirk.

“I’ll bet.”
Ugh, brilliant conversation
. I so did not
want to talk about employment and earning a living, since I wasn’t and had
regular nightmares about living in my car and using the bathroom sinks in
McDonalds to take birdbaths.

“Are you from Dallas, Gayle?” Again his eyes dipped to my
breasts. They took their sweet time crawling back up to my face before dropping
to my mouth. My skeeve radar pinged.

“No, New Mexico. Albuquerque, actually, but here by way of
UT Austin.”

Scott held up his hand, his index finger and pinky pointed
up, “Hook ’em horns!”

I did the same and the conversation continued to limp along
until Jenny rejoined us. As soon as she did, Scott’s visual licking ceased, and
Jon’s arm fell off my shoulders. Amazing how all the body language changed
accents with her arrival.

“Babe, could you get me another beer, please?” Scott wiggled
his empty bottle in front of Jenny.

She relieved his burden but did not trot off to fetch him a
new drink. Instead she turned to me. “I’m glad you could make our Thanksgiving
feast, Gayle. Has Jon warned you about how our dinner conversations usually
go?’

I shot a narrow-eyed, W-T-F glance at Jon, who wore a mask
of innocence.

“No, he hasn’t. Should I be worried?” I asked.

Jon’s arm retook its station on my shoulders.
Uh-oh
. “Don’t
tell her stuff like that. She’s already nervous enough.”

Not helping
.

Jenny flipped her hand at Jon. “It’s not that bad other than
be prepared to blush.  Once the wine starts flowing, the tongues loosen
up, and Fifty Questions begins. Warm-up question for you to ponder: Have you
started looking for a new job yet? Why not, if you haven’t. That’s an easy one.
Here’s a harder one: tell us your opinion on birth control, but remember at
least two at the table were raised devout Catholics.”

I groaned audibly.

“They won’t ask her those sorts of questions, not on her
first visit,” Jon said.

Jenny and Scott turned to each other and laughed. Scott
stopped first, however, and pointed at the empty bottle in Jenny’s hands. “Babe?
Did you forget something?”

With a sigh that not so subtly proclaimed ‘No, I didn’t
forget your stinkin’ beer, but I hoped
you
had,’ Jenny walked off in the
direction of the kitchen.

Scott watched her leave with a smug grin on his face. If Jon
ever did that to me, we’d have to have a serious sit-down.

Jon’s father sauntered over and extended his hand.

“Jack Cripps. And you are Gayle, of course.”

I shook and said, “I am,” sharing what I hoped was my
brightest smile.

Jon’s father exuded a stern and professorial air, with deep
intellect conveyed in the set of his jaw and the unruly hedgerow of his brows.
His eyes were much lighter than his children’s, as was his hair color. The few
similarities to Jon I could discern gravitated toward voice and physique,
though Jon packed more muscle on his lean frame.

“Welcome, welcome. You need a drink? We have mulled cider,
iced tea, soda or if you want something a little stronger, there’s beer or
perhaps a glass of wine—”

“No wine!” No need for Jon to explain his interjection, not
to me anyway. I had a low tolerance for alcohol that had gotten me in trouble
on a few occasions.

“That cider sounds great,” I said.

Jon nodded at his father. “I’ll get it.”

Jack smirked at his son. “Like you weren’t already. What do
I look like? Your servant?” He grabbed Jon in a chokehold and gave him a loud
kiss on the cheek. “Just so you know, you’re not getting your old room back. Your
mother got rid of your furniture and turned it into a reading room. You’d
better hope the employment gods smile upon you soon or you’ll be sleeping at
the mission!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jon said as he moved in the direction of the
kitchen, leaving me alone with his father and Scott.

Jack grinned and wrinkled his nose. Nudging me in the arm,
he said, “You sure you wanna date a deadbeat like that?”

I giggled. “What? You know something I don’t?”

Leaning in, he said in a hushed voice, “Let’s just say I
have pictures.” He paused as if to check for eavesdroppers. “Embarrassing
pictures.”

I did the same. “I’d like to see those some day. Maybe one
of him missing some baby teeth or sportin’ a bad haircut?”

He laughed. “I hope you brought your appetite, Gayle,
because Julie won’t let you leave until you’re nearly ready to pop a gut.”

“Not to worry. I brought my appetite, and a couple of its
friends—gluttony and excess—might have stowed away as well.”

As we continued to banter, Scott looked on with amusement,
but didn’t say much. Every so often he would glance in the direction Jenny had
taken, hands thrust into his pockets as if bereft without a longneck to clutch.

Jon returned with two mugs in hand. “One for you. Careful,
it’s hot.”

“Where’s mine?” his father asked, arms crossed at his chest.

“What do I look like? A servant?” Jon gave his father a
smirk.

When Jenny finally emerged with a beer for Scott and a glass
of wine for herself, Jack excused himself and rejoined Alex and Sophia Milano.

“What took you so long?” Scott muttered.

“Don’t get your boxers in a twist. I wasn’t gone that long,”
she said with a scowl.

Thinking a change of topic best, I asked what everyone was
reading.

“The latest thriller by Baldacci,” Jon said.

Ha! Liar! I knew for a fact Jon was reading some wacky
science fiction story. (Number twenty-two in the series he was on his second
pass through.) He was such a geek about some things, a very cute geek, my geek.

“An anthology of paranormal love stories featuring mythical
sea creatures like sirens, mermaids, and water sprites. I found it on my last
flight to Houston,” Jenny volunteered. “People leave books on planes all the
time. It’s a mile-high library.”

Scott adopted a grave expression. “The Bible keeps me
enthralled. There is no other book I need.”

Jenny shifted her glass from one hand to the other. “Scott’s
a born again Christian.” Jenny raised her glass to take a sip of her wine but
as she did uttered, “And I’m a born again virgin until the wedding.”

Eyes wide, I glanced at Jon for guidance as to what I should
say, but a blinking cursor on a black screen conveyed more. “So have you two
set a date?”

The tiniest hint of trouble writhed beneath the surface of
the tight smile he gave Jenny before he said, “Not yet.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I was at a
blank place. No one else spoke. Everyone took sips of their drinks in the
pendulous unease that cloaked us. Everyone except Jon, who winked at me for
reasons unknown.

“And what are you reading?” Scott asked.

“She’s reading that latest bestseller about BDSM everyone’s
been talking about,” Jon volunteered. “Whips and chains and spankings, oh my!”

Why Jon chose then to speak up on my behalf when his normal
M.O. was Mr. Stoic I’d never understand. But he did, leaving me to answer for
my prurient reading tastes, never mind I’d finished the aforementioned sexy
novel and had moved on to a Stephen King horror classic. I’d have never brought
up the topic of reading were I still wading in the sexy.

Scott coughed and Jenny giggled into her drink before
muttering, “Good for you.”

How odd they’d done a complete one-eighty on my initial
impressions of them. Jenny the prude, whom I’d scandalized upon first meeting,
was the kindred spirit, whereas Scott the lecher wore the mantle of chastity.
What the hell kind of family did Jon come from and would I ever want to buy
into it? My own familial brand of dysfunction seemed pedestrian in comparison.

Jon excused himself, leaving me alone to carry on with Jenny
and Scott. I did okay, I guess, chatting about Jon’s and my old firm, Anderson
Blakely. Everyone wondered what would happen given the insider trading scandal
that had tainted its reputation, if it survived the mounting lawsuits. Most of
my friends at Anderson Blakely were actively seeking new jobs or had already
resigned, not wanting to be associated with an insider-trading ring.

Jon returned after a lengthy absence in time to join in the
final bits of speculation. At no time did he mention being an FBI agent, and he
had requested I keep that knowledge to myself for the time being. He seemed
fine with everyone believing he was unemployed like me. I was the only one
truly scared witless about being out of work with limited savings. Fortunately,
I’d lined up a couple of interviews for the following week, one of which was
with a temp agency. Temping didn’t pay well, so I’d be cutting it close
financially if I had to go that route. I hoped I didn’t, but it would be better
than nothing.

“Dinner is ready. Everyone take your seats,” Jon’s mother
announced. “Jon, you and Gayle sit on this side across from Jenny and Scott,
who will be right here. Sophia, you and Alex take the seats next to Gayle and
Scott. Jack and I will take the ends. We’ll leave this spot for Jason.” She
glanced at her watch. “He said he’d be a little late but not to wait for him,
so we won’t.”

“Where is he, anyway,” Jon’s father asked gruffly.

Julie placed a basket of steaming yeast rolls on the table. “At
a friend’s, he said.”

We all moved to our assigned seats, Jon on my left and
Thalia’s mother on my right, Scott directly across from me.

Scott insisted on delivering a long-winded prayer itemizing
all we were thankful for, including friends, family, and new acquaintances. I
peeped at him through my eyelashes and caught him watching me as he spoke. We repeated,
“Amen” and started passing around the dishes.

All the food moved in a clockwise fashion, I discovered,
when the corn I attempted to pass counter-clockwise smashed into the gravy boat
Sophia held. The viscous sauce sloshed over the edge and onto her hand, then to
the tablecloth. A large tan Rorschach blot took shape. It looked like an
uncircumcised penis or the Washington Monument, one or the other. What did that
say about me other than I was a G-man’s klutzy nympho?