All three siblings gladly obliged for fear they’d be put to work. The matching expressions on their faces earlier made her laugh. One would think as skilled as their mother was, at least one of them would have inherited the cooking gene, but none had shown signs of it to date.
Jared walked in next, talking to Malcolm Devrie, a friend from the squadron who chose to eat with them.
“Thanks for coming.” She extended a hand to greet him. “I’m sorry I missed you when you came in.”
“Quite all right, ma’am. I know you were busy, and I was just glad to be invited.” Malcolm came from a line of Atlanta Devries who’d lived there for two centuries. His deep-rooted Southern heritage always shone brightly in his accent and impeccable manners.
“You’re always welcome here for a home-cooked meal.”
Beside him, Jared snorted.
She laughed. “I didn’t say who would cook it.”
“I’m giving you a hard time.” Jared gave her a brief hug. “This looks great. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Evan did most of it.” She waved a hand over the table. “He’s a natural. I think he’s holding out on us.”
“Did I hear my name?” Evan came in with Mr. and Mrs. Ford.
“I was telling Jared and Malcolm how you did most of the work.”
“Sure, so everyone can blame me when it tastes bad.” His eyes sparkled with merriment. “But I did sneak a piece of turkey and ham, and I must say, it tastes better than I expected.”
Mrs. Ford leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You did a great job. The decorations and table are gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” She looked for her parents but didn’t see them. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
“Right here.” Mom held a hand behind her back.
Dad stood beside her grinning. “It’s not Thanksgiving without the squirrel.”
Julie groaned and slumped her shoulders. “You brought the squirrel?”
“It’s tradition.” Dad beamed, and Janie’s chest tugged with fondness.
Traditions were the heart of her family. They had a list of them for every holiday, and even though she and her siblings teased her parents about them, she knew they wouldn’t want them to end.
Evan nudged her arm and whispered, “I know I’m from Louisiana and all, where squirrel is a common food, but please tell me they aren’t talking about a real one.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a ceramic squirrel riding an ear of corn.” She tilted her head toward her Mom who had revealed the object.
“What do we do with it?” Malcolm asked.
“After the prayer for the meal, we pass the squirrel around, and everyone takes a turn naming one thing they are thankful for.” Her dad took the knickknack from her mom. “We’ve done this every year for twenty-six years since James was two.”
“That’s awesome.” Jared bobbed his head in support of the idea.
“We did something similar with our children as they grew.” Mr. Ford folded his wife’s hand in his. “Except we handed out corn kernels, and whatever grade they were in, that’s how many items they had to be thankful for.”
“What about after they graduated?” Her mom moved to the seat where a pumpkin had her name.
“They had the freedom to choose their own number.” Mrs. Ford laughed. “It became a game to outdo their brothers and sisters, but we didn’t mind. It got them to think about all there is to be grateful for.”
“Amen to that.” Dad set the squirrel on the table.
Janie claimed the seat next to her father. “Would you say the blessing for us, please?”
“I’d be honored. Would everyone close their eyes and bow their heads, please?” Her dad followed his own instructions. “Dear Father in heaven, we thank You for this bounty of food before us, and for all of Your provision. Thank You for the blessing of celebrating this holiday with family and friends. Bless this food to our body. We love You. In Your name, Amen.”
