We’re all on the same page, right? No one is to treat Mitzi any differently than they ever have. There is to be no judgment. Everything happens for a reason.
Kelley doesn’t want to get into the particulars, but, suffice it to say, he isn’t blameless in this.
Yes, Dad, fine, Dad, gotcha. We know, Dad.
Kelley looks pointedly at Isabelle. Ironically, she’s the one he worries about the most.
“We’re on the same page, right?” he says.
“Right,” Isabelle says.
Margaret holds her palms up. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “I like Mitzi.”
“Liar,” Kelley says.
“I do!” Margaret insists.
Mitzi and George arrive at five o’clock on the dot. They both look uncomfortable, bordering on nauseated. George is wearing a lavender argyle sweater that seems like it might have been a Christmas gift from someone—Mitzi?—who hopes George loses thirty pounds in the near future; the cashmere strains over George’s belly and barely meets the top of his pants. Mitzi is wearing a sage-green velvet dress (an Eileen Fisher, Kelley knows, that retails for $375) and a jaunty red suede fedora.
A hat! On Mitzi! A hat George must have made and Mitzi must have gamely agreed to wear to Christmas dinner hosted by the man she has been betraying for twelve years.
“Nice hat!” Kelley says. He kisses Mitzi on the cheek. “Merry Christmas. I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you for having us,” George says. He hands Kelley a gift bag containing a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black.
“Thank you, kind sir!” Kelley says. He hands the bottle off to Kevin, who whisks it to the bar.
Mitzi hands Kelley a present. It’s a book; he knows which one. He’ll save it to open at the dinner table, in case there’s an awkward silence.
Patrick and Jen greet Mitzi, Ava says Merry Christmas, then Scott and Isabelle say Merry Christmas and Joyeux Noël, then Kevin offers drinks. Everyone puts in an order for something stronger than normal.
Mitzi says, “Do you have any white wine, Kevin?”
Kevin raises his eyebrows. “Wine?”
Kelley says, “You’ve been gone two days, and suddenly you drink wine?”
“It’s Christmas,” Mitzi says. “I sometimes drink wine on Christmas.”
“You never drank wine on Christmas,” Kelley says. “You never drank wine, ever. Unless, of course, you drank it in George’s room?”
George says, “If you have white wine, Kevin, Mitzi would like a glass.”
Oh, George, so gallant, making Kelley look like he’s picking a fight.
Mitzi says, “Have you heard from Bart?”
“I have not,” Kelley says. “Have you?”
“No,” she says.
As far as Kelley is concerned, they have nothing else to say to each other. Wow—he is angrier than he thought he’d be.
George says to Scott, “How’d it go as Santa Claus?”
“Great,” Scott says, grinning.
“Scott was a natural,” Kelley says. “I hate to tell you this, George, but you’ve been replaced. Happens to the best of us.”
“Daddy,” Ava says.
Right, Kelley knows. He gives everyone else a lecture about being pleasant, and he alone is acting abominable.
At that moment, Margaret pops out of the kitchen wearing Mitzi’s Christmas apron, featuring a silk-screened Rudolph with a red sequin nose. “Merry Christmas, everyone!” she sings out.
Kelley has no need for further jabs, because he has just unveiled his secret weapon. The look on Mitzi’s face is PRICELESS. There is horror and jealousy wrapped up in complete shock.
Kelley would dance a jig if it were not so indelicate.
Mitzi turns to Kelley with icy-hot eyes, then back to Margaret. “Hello, Margaret.”
“Hello, Mitzi,” Margaret says. She sails over and embraces Mitzi warmly. The woman has the grace of a queen, Kelley thinks. “Merry Christmas. Today must be bittersweet for you, with Bart away. Please know I’m keeping him in my prayers.”
“Oh,” Mitzi says. “Thank you. Yes, it’s been… difficult. Christmas morning at a hotel, everything topsy-turvy.”
Well, whose fault is that? Kelley thinks.
Kevin arrives with Mitzi’s wine and a whiskey, rocks, for both George and Kelley. Margaret, Ava, and Jennifer are drinking champagne. Patrick, Kevin, and Scott have vodka martinis. Isabelle has seltzer.
“I’d like to make a toast,” Kelley says. “To all the members of the Quinn family who are present, and to the newest addition.”
“Hear, hear,” Kevin says, and he kisses Isabelle.
“What addition?” Mitzi says.
But nobody answers.
They are seated for dinner. Kelley takes his usual place and Margaret sits at Kelley’s right, which is where Mitzi used to sit. Next to Margaret are Patrick, the three boys, Jennifer, Scott, Ava, George, Mitzi, Kevin, and Isabelle, who is next to Kelley.
Isabelle says to Mitzi, “Ton chapeau. Your hat.” She makes a motion indicating Mitzi should take it off.
Mitzi looks flustered and embarrassed, and Kelley’s heart goes out to her. She never wears hats and hence is unaware that hats are inappropriate at the dinner table.
Kevin pours a nice pinot noir for everyone at the table who is drinking, which again seems to include Mitzi.
“Something smells delicious,” George says.
“Standing rib roast,” Margaret says. “That’s what we used to have when the kids were growing up.”
“And Yorkshire pudding made with the drippings,” Ava says.
Again, the look on Mitzi’s face is priceless. She may be drinking wine, but Kelley will bet a pretty penny she won’t eat beef or anything made with “drippings.” Just the word “drippings” is probably enough to send Mitzi to the hospital for a month.
Everything about the present situation delights him.
When everyone is seated, he reaches out, encouraging them to hold hands for the blessing.
He says, “O Lord, we thank you for the meal before us, lovingly prepared”—pause, let Mitzi consider—“and we are grateful for all of the family and friends assembled at this table. We also remember, O Lord, the ones who are not at this table tonight, especially our beloved Bart, who is overseas, defending our freedom. Please, Lord, keep Bart safe from bodily harm and let him know he is in our thoughts and prayers. Let us take a moment of silence to pray for Bart.”
Silence.