“Yes, let’s do it. Make the food, maybe listen to the music?”
Tillie nods. “Create new traditions. I love it.”
Roman scowls. “My fiancée didn’t come here to cook and entertain you all.”
“God no, Roman. But we can make her feel at home.” Elizabeth looks at me earnestly.
Roman nudges my leg, summoning my attention. “You game?”
I look around the table. Everyone is holding their breath for my answer.
“You all have to help; it’s part of the fun,” I comment.
Ollie laughs out loud. “This is about to be chaos.”
“No, we are making my daughter-in-law feel like she is home away from home,” Elizabeth says. Do I feel like crying? Maybe, or maybe, I am just going through the luteal phase.
“You all are about to have the best Christmas you ever had,” I comment.
ROMAN
I chuckle to myself as Jarvis roams the perimeter of the kitchen. He is not accustomed to so many in his domain. Poor man had emergency groceries ordered to the house.
Now I am leaning on the kitchen counter, sipping on what Noelle calledponche crème. It’s a Caribbean version of eggnog and Bailey’s. It’s creamy and delicious. I don’t know how she did it, but I want ten bottles of this shit. Music, laughter, people talking. I don’t think this house was ever so loud or warm.
“This fucking eggnog may be getting me drunk,” Liam says as he comes to stand beside me.
I nod in agreement. The sound of parang floats through the air. The smell of cooked meats and cakes…this house has never smelled so delicious.
My mother laughs. “What is she saying in the song?”
“She met a mister from Margarita, and he wanted to take her to dinner. But it’s Christmas time, so she took him to her home instead.” Noelle explains and supervises Tillie chopping olives.
Even Tessa is tapping her foot. “So she fed him, and then she…”
“Then he ate again.” Noelle laughs. “The Trinbagonian love language is food.”
Tillie tilts her head. “Aww, you love us?”
“Am I doing this right?” My mother asks.
I observe Noelle touching my mother and encouraging her to make bigger balls for what she called a “pastelle.”
My father comes and stands beside me. “So an heiress and a cook. Well done, Son.”
He clinks his crystal ofponche crèmeagainst mine.
Ollie, who is clearly tight, moves toward Tillie. He grabs her hand, and they both decide to dance a jig. I can’t help but chuckle, watching my cousin trying to catch the beat.
Noelle claps, her eyes full of mirth. She looks so happy and at home.
“Excuse me, gents.” I take a sip of my drink and place it on the counter.
Noelle’s eyes widen when she sees me. I place my hand in front of her. “May I have this dance, my lady?”
She places her soft palm against mine, and I pull her close to my body. Another song starts, and I laugh in her ear.
“What?” she asks.
