Whereas I’d thought Christmas would be a nice, quiet, private event with just Malik and myself, the reality turned out to be quite different.
Oh, we had a restful lie in—except that Moses got it into his head that he needed to be fed at six in the morning and decided kneading Malik’s hair with his claws was the way to get his needs met.
Malik, the old softie, rose and fed the damn cat. He also insisted—insisted—that Moses have free run of the entire house. Now, he’d at least removed all the valuable and breakable things to his parents’ room, and that space remained closed off.
Moses, never a fan of closed doors, would sit and yowl at it.
Seriously, my cat had a massive attitude problem.
Still, he’d already found a spot in Mrs. Forestal’s study where he could bathe in sunlight and lick his paws to his heart’s content.
I’d already taken the fur-remover thing to the area twice.
Having met the cleaner the day after the solstice, I apologized profusely and said I’d do my best to keep up with my cat.
The woman laughed, pointed out she didn’t have enough to fill her time anyway, and assured me she was happy to do a little extra.
At that moment, Moses leapt onto the kitchen table and head-butted the woman’s hand.
Turning on the charm. So like my finicky feline.
During our party on Christmas afternoon, however, he made himself scarce.
I would’ve too, if I’d known just how many people would bedropping in. Like, about half the symphony, all of Razor Made, a good portion of their families, and a few people from the neighborhood.
Malik contended he was alone in the world. A loner.
To the contrary, the dozens of people scattered about the house showed that to either be a lie or a fundamental misunderstanding on his part as to whatalonemeant. Because alone and lonely were two very different things.
Bonnie and Blossom also dropped in—along with several other of my coworkers who Malik had invited. He took seriously his role as mypartnerand always showed a keen interest in whatever I was working on.
As I shared an interest in his music. Pretty easy these days since he spent a lot of time in his studio. He was happiest, clearly, when I was close-at-hand. So, I’d take my laptop downstairs and work on the couch while he jammed with the band.
“You look happier than the first time we met.” Mama Murthi planted herself before me across the kitchen island. I was preparing yet another tray of pigs in a blanket and tzatziki crusty thingies. Hell, I didn’t even know their name.
“I try.” Before I could escape to start passing them around, Pauletta breezed into the kitchen.
“Oh, perfect.” She snagged the tray and headed right back out.
I met Mama’s gaze.
She grinned. “I like that girl.”
“I think she’d take issue with you referring to her as agirl.”
Mama shrugged. “I’ve figured out that she’s with a nonbinary partner. At my age, I can get away with a lot.”
I arched an eyebrow as I checked the stove. “Who knew pigs in a blanket would be so popular?”
“I think Creed’s eating all of them. I don’t serve them in my house.” Before I could ask, she said, “Unhealthy.”
Knowing that pointing out all the other junk food she served would be tactless, I simply smiled. “Well, he’s getting his fill today.” I pulled a tray from the fridge.
The thing was covered in little piles of Ritz crackers with a cube of ham and a bit of cheese attached with a toothpick. Again, I would’ve expected…something more upscale? Fancier?
Malik had contemplated hiring a caterer.
I’d said I could manage. Of course, I’d thought we were talking about a dozen people at the most. Now I almost wish we had splurged for help. Not that I minded hanging out in the kitchen. Most of the guests had visited at some point or other to chat with me. I hadn’t seen much of Malik, but I wasn’t someone who was needy and required constant contact. As a lawyer, I met strangers all the time. Unless they were an adversary—and sometimes even then—I needed to make people at ease.
