The concept was so foreign to me that I had actually asked Sylvie if there had been some kind of mistake when she’d directed me to the long wooden table where other guests were already seated.
“This is how we do dinner at the lodge,” she’d said with that infuriatingly cheerful smile. “Family style. Community dining. It’s part of the experience.”
The experience. Right. The experience of sitting elbow-to-elbow with strangers while a six-year-old girl stared at me like I was some kind of exotic zoo animal.
The little girl—Aspen, I had learned when her mother had scolded her for abandoning her jacket on the floor—had been openly gawking at me for the past ten minutes. Not subtleglances or curious looks, but full-on, unblinking stares that made me wonder if I had something stuck in my teeth or if my hair was standing up at odd angles.
I had showered in the itty-bitty shower in my room. Got my body temperature back up to human level and changed into dry clothes. I was clean. I didn’t stink. So what the hell?
“Is there something on my face?” I finally asked her.
She shook her head solemnly but didn’t stop staring.
Meanwhile, her older brother Alder, who couldn’t have been more than eight, had apparently decided I was his new best friend and had been yapping my ear off for the last five minutes about his Christmas list. The kid had too much energy and seemed incapable of speaking at anything less than full volume.
“And then I want the new Lego Millennium Falcon, and the remote-control helicopter that can do flips, and the skateboard with the light-up wheels, and maybe some Magic cards, and definitely the new Pokémon game that just came out, and?—”
“What makes you think Santa is going to bring you all that?” I interrupted as kitchen staff members began bringing out steaming plates of food to all the guests at the table.
The question seemed to stump him for exactly half a second.
“Not all of it,” Alder said, as if I was the one being unreasonable. “Just one thing. Santa only ever brings one thing for me and one thing for Aspen. To keep it fair.”
I nearly choked on the water I’d been sipping. “Fair is overrated.”
Apparently the grownups weren’t allowed to have a glass of top-shelf scotch with dinner. My request for something a little stronger than milk had been met with shock and horror. I wasn’t drinking fucking milk.
“That’s not what our mom says,” Aspen said, speaking for the first time since she’d started her staring campaign.
I looked down at her, taking in her serious expression and the way she looked personally offended by my worldview.
“Your mom sounds boring,” I said.
Both children looked absolutely scandalized, their mouths dropping open in identical expressions of shock. It was actually kind of amusing, like I’d just told them that Santa Claus was actually the Easter Bunny in disguise.
I shrugged off their obvious dismay and turned my attention to the plate that had been set in front of me. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, green beans, some kind of bread that was still warm from the oven.
It smelled incredible.
I cut into the roast beef, expecting the kind of overcooked, under-seasoned fare that usually passed for food in places like this. Instead, I was hit with flavors that were surprisingly sophisticated. The meat was perfectly tender, the potatoes were creamy without being glue, and even the green beans had been prepared with what tasted like garlic and almonds.
It was comfort food at its finest. The kind of meal Kathy served for Sunday dinner. It was exactly what I needed after spending half the afternoon freezing my ass off in the snow.
I spotted Sylvie on the far side of the hall, moving between guests with a large pitcher, refilling glasses. She was dressed in the same jeans but now had on a pink sweater that showcased a very nice set of tits that made it difficult to focus on my meal.
When she glanced in my direction, I caught her eye and immediately chugged the rest of my water, then held up my empty glass with an expectant look.
She rolled her eyes in a way that suggested she knew exactly what I was doing, but she started making her way over anyway. I loved how easy it was to get under her skin. A simple gesture could make her expression shift from professional pleasantness to barely contained irritation.
“Thirsty?” she asked as she refilled my glass.
“Absolutely parched.” I took a long drink from the freshly filled glass.
Before she could respond, Alder looked up from his plate and pointed his fork at me. “Sylvie, this guy said Mom is boring.”
I watched Sylvie’s expression change from mild annoyance to something approaching murderous rage. Her green eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment I thought she might dump the rest of the water pitcher over my head.
“Throwing our tree in the ditch and calling my sister-in-law boring?” she hissed. “I should have charged you double the asshole service fee.”
