Claire asked, “Why weren’t we invited to help out with this gig?”
“Nobody invited anyone. This all just sort of happened.”
“Huh.” She glared at Elena. “Have you ever in your entire life heard such a lame excuse?”
“Thinking.”
“I’ve got six turkeys ready to come out of the oven,” Claire announced.
Arnaud cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m the one—” “Don’t you start.” To Dillon, “I called Bailey an hour ago. She claims you’re directing traffic. So direct.”
It was Elena who suggested, “Turkey tacos.”
The three adults stared at her. Dillon said, “That’s actually a very good idea.”
“California fast food, Christmas style,” Elena said.
Claire looked at her husband, who said, “Works for me.”
Claire said, “We can whip up some sides of slaw and potato salad.”
“I can,” Arnaud replied. “You can’t boil water.”
Dillon pointed to the fire station. “Set up your station in the chief’s office. Get ready to feed the governor’s crew and all the Miramar biggies.”
“Don’t forget Santa,” Elena said, offering them a happy shrug. “What can I tell you. I’m still ten.”
