Friendsgiving 8.0 - So Close

Trixe paused on her trek through her cluttered kitchen to shove a box of leftover flooring out of the way.  Heading to the microwave that was perched on one of the new counter stools, she fixed herself a cup of tea, then studied the room.  In her mind, she envisioned the new kitchen with its glistening, tidy countertops and plank flooring covered with the rug she and Tad had picked out. But in reality, dishes were shoved into cabinets while pots and pans were stacked precariously on the island. Open boxes of nails and screws shared the counter with jars of spices and condiments. The new farmhouse sink held the remains of the previous evening’s takeout meal.

“I’m tired of living in a construction site,” she grumbled as Tad came into the room.

“It’s hardly a construction site,” he replied.  “Just give me and Spider another week and this kitchen will be the room we envisioned when we bought the house.  Of course,” he grinned, “I don’t think you’re as eager to cook as you are to decorate for Christmas.”

Trixie shrugged. “I plead the fifth.”  Turning around, she spooned a bit more sugar into her mug, then left the room, leaving Tad to complete the installation of the new cabinet knobs.

An hour later, Tad, smiling proudly, stood back to admire his work. “And another task checked off.”  As Trixie came down the stairs, he quickly placed the electric screwdriver into its power dock and  tossed the cabinet knobs’ packaging in the trash.

“Gleeps!” she exclaimed.  “Everything looks great.  I’m so glad we chose the knobs that we did.  The other ones we liked would have clashed with the faucet.”

“I agree,” nodded Tad as he glanced at the clock.  “And I have just enough time to grab a quick shower and then we can head towards Dan for our annual Friendsgiving Feast.”

“Okay.” Frowned Trixie.

“What?” queried Tad.

“Last year we told everybody we’d have it in our new house, but instead we’re going to Dan’s….again!”

Tad kissed her quickly.  “It couldn’t be helped.” He shrugged.  “So we’ll have everybody over next year, or better yet, we’ll have the Christmas party here.”

Trixie’s brows furrowed.  “But, by Christmas the house won’t be as new.”

Sighing loudly, Tad dropped his head.  “Trixie, this house is already 75 years old.  It was never going to be new.”

“Yea, but it’s new to us.”

Throwing up his hands in defeat, Tad left the room.  A few minutes later, Trixie could hear the shower above her.

“At least we got the bathrooms and the main bedroom done, plus the downstairs painted,” she thought.  Wandering into the cozy den, she envisioned the small Christmas tree she would place in the bay window and the garland with which she would line the bookshelves. “I just have to figure out what the theme of the tree should be. Whatever it is, I want it to convey a special message.”

 

A short time later, the two left the house, Tad carrying a cooler full of beer and Trixie toting a green bean casserole she had put together earlier.  

“If this isn’t good,” she griped, "I'm going to blame it on the construction.”

“I thought you made that casserole at your mom’s house?”

“I did.  But just in case, I’m prepared to blame the construction.”  

After carefully placing their contribution to the party in the back seat, the two got into the car. Looking out through the front windshield, Tad noted the large drops of rain that were beginning to splatter on the glass.  “I guess we won’t be hiking through the preserve this year.”

“That should make Diana quite happy,” grinned Trixie.

The two laughed as they recounted the previous year’s disastrous scavenger hunt that ended with Diana falling into the mud.

“But she got that amazing prize in her Cracker Jacks,” recalled Trixie, referring to the engagement ring Mart had secretly hidden in Diana's box.

“That was a good hide,” agreed Tad.  “And, speaking of your brother, he called this morning and wanted to make sure you had put lots of onion rings on your casserole.”

Trixie rolled her eyes.  “He really needs to get a life that exists beyond food.”

“There’s more. After making sure you had made the casserole correctly, he then talked for ten minutes about the cherry pie he baked and how wonderful it looks in the new pie plate that your mother made for him last Christmas.”

Trixie nodded.  “That pie plate is pretty cool.  I bet it shows up at every Bobwhite event, even if we don’t have pie.  Moms sure outdid herself with painting all the Bobwhites on the side of it. It makes my teeth sing just to think about it.”

Tad, eyebrows raised, looked at his wife, then shook his head.  “Your teeth sing? I’d like to hear that.” He adjusted the car’s wipers against the increasing rain.  “But the love you and your brother have for a pie plate is beyond weird.”

Trixie wagged her finger at Tad. “Admit it! You love that pie plate too.”

The two continued on their short journey.  Then Trixie sighed, sounding as woe begone as the wet, drooping leaves that brushed against the car.  “I wonder what Jim’s special guest is like?” she mused. “I was really surprised when Dan said he was bringing her.  We don’t know anything about her. Don’t you find that odd? And will she be comfortable with our group?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe we should convene a meeting of the female Bobwhites so they can resolve these and other important questions.”

“Har! Har! You’re so funny,” said Trixie drily.  “But still, he added her at the last minute.  Do you think that means anything?”

“I think it means he’s a nice guy.  Remember, he said she’s new in town and is trying to build up her business.”

“Oh, that’s right.   She’s a hair stylist.” Trixie shrugged.  “I guess it can’t hurt to include her.”

“That’s my girl,” smiled Tad as he pulled the car onto the narrow, rutted road that led to Dan’s cabin.

 

Entering the cozy cabin a few minutes later, Trixie and Tad found the annual Friendsgiving Feast in full swing.  Trixie slipped off her coat and hung it on the coat rack behind the door  then joined Honey and Diana in the living room, where Honey handed her a glass of chilled white wine.

“What?” she said when she noticed the scowls on her friends’ faces.

“It’s Jim’s guest,” hissed Diana.

Beside her, Honey heaved a heavy sigh.  “This year’s get together is certainly going to be interesting.”

“Why?” asked Trixie, looking around the room.

“You’ll see,” whispered Diana.  “Here she comes.”

“You must be Trixie,” said a young woman who glided out of Dan’s vintage kitchen and into the living room.  “I’ve been dying to meet you. I'm Daisy O’Dare.”

Trixie gave a limp shake to the woman’s extended hand then took a moment to study her.   Daisy had a blonde bobbed haircut with streaks of pink woven through it and was wearing a pair of white slacks with a khaki green turtleneck.  Several diamond studs graced each earlobe while loads of beaded bracelets cuffed her wrists.

“And where’s that handsome husband of yours?” asked Daisy.

“Uh, there.”

Trixie pointed toward the bedroom where Tad had taken his coat. As Tad passed through the bedroom’s doorway, he was shaking his damp hair and straightening his shirt. He offered the group of girls a quick smile.

“Tad!” exclaimed Daisy.  “I’ve seen you so many times at the Community Center but never had the chance to meet you.”

She walked over to him and began fussing with his dark tresses, frowning a bit.  “You know, I could give you a much more stylish cut.  You should come see me.”

Tad looked at the young woman, then at Trixie, confusion spreading across his face. “Uh…uh…”

The young woman slapped her hand on her throat and gave a soft giggle.  “I’m sorry.  We really haven't met.  I’m Daisy O’Dare. You can call me ‘Jim’s plus one.’”

“Oh.” Tad, smiling tightly, pulled back a bit.  “Nice to meet you. Well,” he pointed his thumb toward the kitchen. “I gotta go.”

“See you later,” called Daisy then she sat down on the couch, wiggling herself in between Trixie and Honey.  

“So,” she exhaled, blowing wisps of hair off her forehead. “What do we do now?”

Honey cleared her throat, then politely suggested.  “Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Daisy.  I understand you’re new to Sleepyside.”

“Yes, I moved here about three months ago. And I’m a hair stylist at the Sleepyside Spa and Salon so I want all three of you to book an appointment with me.  I can whip your hair into a glorious style in no time flat.”

Diana nervously patted her dark tresses.  “That’s very nice of you.  But I already have a stylist that I’m quite fond of.”

Daisy, her head tilted, studied Diana’s hair. “Really?” Then she pivoted and zeroed in on Trixie.  “But, it’s you that I really want to style. I have this great product that will make your curls all soft and shiny.”

Trixie tucked a damp ringlet behind her ear.  “Wh..why do you want to style my hair?”

“Aren’t you a celebrity in this town? I know you’re on tv.”

Trixie took a hurried sip of her wine before replying.  “I’m not really a celebrity.  I just do local features for the morning news show.”

Daisy playfully slapped Trixie’s thigh.  “Like I said, you’re a celebrity.   I can see it now.  I do your hair, take a pic and then put it on my blog. And voila! We’re a delish smash.”

“Your blog?” puzzled Diana.

“A delish smash?” puzzled Trixie under her breath.

Daisy tossed back her precision cut.  “My blog.  You know, my lifestyle blog.  I call it Daisy’s Doodles.  When I’m not cutting hair, I’m an influencer and I know you would be a great asset to my blog. Just think how many people have curly hair they struggle with on a daily basis.  With my expertise, I could advise them on the correct products.  Who knows? Maybe I’ll be so successful that I’ll be given the products I promote for free.  After all, that’s what makes an influencer’s world go round.  It would all be so delish!” Daisy made a small clapping motion while she closed her eyes and softly squealed.

Trixie, Honey and Diana, mouths slightly agape, just stared at her. Finally, Honey said, “So you have a blog?”

Daisy opened her eyes.  “Oh, yes.  I’ve really been working on building up my base.  Hey! Look at that beautiful fire. I just have to get a pic of myself sitting by it.  Help me move this rocking chair, Honey. It would be an absolutely delish picture.”

“Delish?” echoed Trixie for a second time.

Daisy giggled.  “Oh, Trixie. Everybody who reads my blog knows that “delish” means excellent.” She grabbed one arm of Mr. Maypenny’s heavy oak rocker and lugged it toward the fireplace.  “Come on, Honey.  Help me. Chop! Chop!”

Although appearing stunned by the rude request, Honey jumped up and helped move the old, cherished rocker that had belonged to Mr. Maypenny.

With the chair finally positioned near the fire to Daisy’s satisfaction, she grabbed a plaid wool blanket that was draped across the back of the couch.  Then she sat in the chair, laid the blanket across her lap and took out her phone.

“Wait!” she exclaimed.  “Diana, go get me a mug.  It doesn’t have to have anything in it. Just go get it.”

Even though she was scowling at the new guest, Diana did as she was ordered.  When she handed the mug to Daisy, the girl positioned it close to her mouth,  then held out her phone.  Several clicks later, Daisy put the mug down then wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and took some more pictures.  

“This is perfectly delish.  It goes with my new theme of small town coziness.  What do you girls think?”

The three Bobwhites said nothing.  But Daisy didn’t seem to notice.  She tossed the blanket aside then wandered around the rustic room until her eyes lit on the ladder that led to a loft.

“What’s up there?” asked Daisy.  “More potential photo ops, I hope.”

“It used to be Dan’s room but now he just uses it as storage,” answered Diana.”

“Ooh. Look at this rustic coat rack.  That gives me an idea,” exclaimed Daisy as she tossed Trixie’s jacket on the floor then disappeared into the bedroom, only to reappear with Honey’s cashmere sweater coat.

“What are you doing with that?” asked Honey.

“Don’t worry.  I’m just going to use it for a minute.”

Daisy posed as if she were hanging up the garment then snapped her phone.  When she was done, she handed the coat to Honey and returned to her seat.

“Just because we’re out in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we don’t have fancy apparel,  Right?” Daisy strutted around the room, her high heeled boots clomping as she went. “ And I think I got some great shots, don’t you? I mean, look at this cabin: log walls, fire burning, cozy rugs on the floor.”

Trixie and Diana looked at each other while Honey, with a loud sigh of exasperation, stood up and returned her coat to Dan’s room then hung Trixie’s coat back on the rack.

“So, what  do you guys do for this feast?” asked Daisy as she sat back down on the couch. “I asked Jim but he said that it’s been a different experience each year.”

Before anyone could answer, Trixie jumped in.  “I don’t want to sound rude, but why are you here?”

Diana and Honey gasped but Daisy only smiled.  “I know, right?  I do seem a bit out of place. I mean, look at me, a hair stylist from the city attending a small friendly get-together in the middle of the woods. But this whole feast idea sounds so delish!”

“That’s not exactly what I meant, but sure, go on,” said Trixie as she made a rolling motion with her hand.

“Well,” began Daisy.  “I have this blog and I wasn’t gaining as many followers as I wanted to.  So I thought that maybe I should recreate myself a bit and leave the big, expensive city and move to a small town.  You know, people are really interested in small towns. And here I am.” She smiled at the girls.

Trixie shook her head.,  “No. I mean why are you in this cabin? And why are you with Jim?”

Daisy, her head tilted to one side, offered Trixie a pattonizing smile.  “I’m here with Jim because he felt sorry for me.  I didn’t have anybody to spend Thanksgiving with so he invited me to this get-together.” She scrolled through the pictures she had taken.  “ I think coming to this little town is going to be so good for me.  If I can get my numbers up, then maybe I’ll be able to start scoring some free merchandise.” She stood and modeled her pants.  “What do you girls think of these?  I took a picture of myself buying them and the store caught it on my blog and sent me a $25 gift card.  A big score for Daisy O’Dare.”

Trixie stood up.  “I think I need some more wine.  Honey, Diana, can I get you more?”

“Just bring the whole bottle,” suggested Honey with a wave of her hand.

“Better make it two bottles,” called Diana as Trixie disappeared into the kitchen.

Trixie returned with the two bottles, then went around and refilled everyone’s glasses.  When she got to Daisy, the bottle of wine was nearly empty.  

“Gleeps! I forgot to bring the corkscrew.” Trixie slapped her forehead. “Now I have to go back into that testosterone loaded kitchen and get it.”

“Wait!” cried Daisy. “ I’ve got a great idea. I read that if you pound the bottom of a wine bottle against a wall, the cork will pop out.  Let’s try it.”

Diana, Honey and Trixie looked at each, unsure of how to respond to the bizarre request.

Rising from her seat, Daisy grabbed the bottle and went over to the wall.  “This log wall will make a perfect background.  Hey, throw me that scarf you’re wearing, Diana.”

Before Diana could even move, Daisy stepped over and whipped the plaid woolen scarf from Diana’s shoulders and wrapped it around the bottle.  Then, positioning  the bottle in one hand, she got out her phone.  Smiling into it, she took several pictures then hit the video button so she could film herself hitting the bottom of the wrapped bottle against the heavy logs.  After many hits, Trixie, sighing loudly, stood up.  

“Try this,” she said as she held out the corkscrew.

Looking into her phone, Daisy said, “Small town folks!  Always ready to lend a helping hand.”

After opening the bottle, Trixie poured some into Daisy’s glass then sat down.  Amid much arguing and teasing, the guys returned to the living area.

“Turn on the game, Dan,” said Mart.  

“Yes, please do,” echoed Diana, earning her an amazed look from her fiance.

 “When did you become a football fan?” asked Mart.

“About 10 minutes ago,” answered Diana in a syrupy voice.

“Huh?” Mart stared at Diana until he was interrupted by the other guys.

“Come on, Mart,” said Brian.  “Help us with the chairs.”

The guys dragged the chairs from the counter that separated a part of the kitchen from the main living area and grouped them around the television.  Dan brought in big bowls of popcorn and chips. Soon everybody was watching the game, offering commentary and opinions.

“This is just so delish,” exclaimed Daisy.  “Nobody move.”

She went to the corner of the room and began snapping pictures with her phone.  

“Let’s see,” she muttered to herself.  “I want to capture the cozy fire feeling against the rainy windows with everybody grouped around the tv, eating popcorn.”

Jim watched her, his brows furrowed in confusion.  “I don’t get it,” he said.  “Why are you taking these pictures?”

“It’s for my blog,” answered Daisy.  

“Your what?” asked Mart.

“My blog.  Just ask the ladies about it.  They’re all excited to be a part of my social media account.”

Out of Daisy’s line of vision, Honey, Diana, and Trixie all shook their heads no.  

“What social media account?” demanded Jim.  “I thought you wanted to come to this get-together because you didn’t know anybody in town and were having to spend the holiday alone.”

“That is true,” replied Daisy slowly.  “I don’t really know anybody in town and this party sounded like so much fun.”

“So, then what’s the deal with social media?” asked Dan.

Daisy smiled prettily at the men.  “I’m a blogger and I have a huge social media following, well, maybe not huge but it is a respectable following, at least I’m hoping to make that happen.  Anyway, I was struggling to get my numbers up so I came up with the idea of moving to a small town and focusing on that aspect. A new slant to Daisy’s Doodles.”

“I don’t follow,” said Mart, through a mouthful of popcorn.

Daisy quickly snapped a picture of Mart, managing to catch a loaded palm of popcorn before he tossed it into his mouth.

“Hey!” she cried.  “I liked that shot.  Now, all you guys grab a handful of popcorn and when I say ‘go’, you toss it into your mouth.” She ran into the kitchen then returned with the box the popcorn had come in. She set the box on the hearth, then lined herself up so the four men could be seen as well as the cozy fire and the product.  “Okay, everybody ready?” she asked.

Jim dropped his popcorn back into the bowl then held up his hands.  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! What is going on here?”

Daisy, her phone still held up in one hand, smiled patronizingly at him.  “I told you. These pics are for my blog.  Now, get your popcorn so I can get this shot. Please. Pretty please…”

Frowning, Jim reluctantly picked up a handful of popcorn then, on the count of three, the group tossed the popcorn into their mouths.

“That was so super-duper delish,” squealed Daisy.  “I can’t believe how this day is going.  I’m going to be so famous and then attract so many sponsors.  You guys are great.”

Choosing to ignore the situation, the guys adjusted their chairs so their backs were to Daisy and within a few minutes, were totally engrossed in the game, leaving the female Bobwhite contingency to deal with Daisy.

As the third quarter of the game came to a close, Mart raised his head and sniffed.  “Oh, Daniel, I do believe that the annual holiday repast is almost ready for its illustrious presentation.  Shall we purge our hands of bacteria and assist with the displaying of the bountiful feast on the beautifully adorned table?”

Daisy’s head flipped back and forth between the girls and the guys.  “What did he say?”

“Dinner’s almost ready and we should all wash our hands and help carry the food to the table,” translated Trixie with a barely contained roll of her eyes.

Daisy got up and wandered over to the table, then immediately began taking pictures of it.  “This table is fabulous.  I think I’ll label these pictures ‘delish dining’. Who created this enchanting, rustic look?”

“Dan managed to put this together,” answered Diana.  “With a little help from me, of course.”

“Why you?” asked Daisy.

“I’m an artist,” frowned Diana.  

“A real artist?” questioned Daisy.  “Or a fake one?”

“What?” demanded Diana through a clenched jaw.

Daisy waved her hand through the air.  “You know what I mean.  There are real artists, the ones who have shows and sell their works, and then there are the ones that have a card table set up in the spare bedroom that they then refer to as ‘their studio.’” Daisy made quotation marks with her perfectly manicured fingers.

“For your information,” hissed Diana. “I have had shows and I’m an art teacher in the Sleepyside Schools.”

Leaning into Honey, Trixie whispered.  “Just this once I hope Mart keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t mention that Diana uses their spare bedroom as a studio.”

Honey bobbed her head in agreement.  They both breathed a sigh of relief when the conversation continued.

“Well, excuse me,” said Daisy as she placed her hand on her chest.  Then Daisy quickly stepped beside Diana and took a selfie of the two of them.  When she met Diana’s frosty stare, Daisy quickly said, “You know, that pic will come in handy when you make it big. I’ll be able to say I knew you before you were an artist. Another delish discovery!”

Diana inhaled loudly but before she could say anything, Honey grabbed her arm and led her to the kitchen.  “Come on, Diana,” she said.  “Let’s get the rolls out of the oven and into that cute basket Mrs. Vanderpohl made.”

As the two left the room, Daisy turned to Trixie.  “Did I say something that offended them?”

Trixie started to walk away, then turned back.  “Yes.  Diana is an incredible artist and has helped a lot of students discover their own artistic talents.  You should apologize.”

“And you should try this wonderful leave-in conditioner we have at the salon.  It would do wonders for your curls.  Hey, maybe I could get a contract with your tv station to provide hair services.  Do you think you could talk to somebody about that?  That would really give me a huge boost.”

Trixie fisted her small hands and slowly counted to ten.  She turned to leave the room, but stopped when she realized Daisy was now approachingTad.

“I’ve seen you at the Community Center and wanted to talk to you,” Daisy said in a hushed tone.

“About what?” Tad grabbed the now empty popcorn bowl and the popcorn box.

“Two things.  First, you would make an awesome model for fitness wear.  I have always pictured you working out, wearing the latest gear.  And second, I would love to cut your hair too.” She reached out and ran her hand through Tad’s dark waves.

“Ahem,” Trixie loudly cleared her throat.  “Dan could use our help. You coming, Tad.” She watched her husband and Daisy through narrowed eyes.

“Yep.” Tad essentially hopped across the room.  But as he took Trixie’s arm, he turned back to Daisy.  “I’m happy with my barber and there are no cameras allowed in the Center. Plus, I have no interest in promoting any type of apparel.”  Then he and Trixie turned, leaving Daisy to trail behind them.

But when Daisy saw the table, set with antique china pieces, cloth napkins and an old trough filled with leaves, pinecones and berries, plus the various bowls of food, she gasped aloud. “I loved it when I first saw it but now, with all the food on it, it looks beyond delish.”

She took out her phone and started snapping away.  “I could never have imagined anything so spectacular, especially in a cabin in the middle of the woods.  People will definitely want to copy this look.”She paused and looked at Dan.  “Where did you get that antique wooden trough? I know my followers will definitely want to know.”

“I found it in the barn.  We used to feed horses from it.”

“So it’s real?” squealed Daisy.  “This is even more delish.  Do you have any more?”

“No,” replied Dan.  “But Mart has something similar in his shop.”

Daisy spun around to face Mart.  “You do? What kind of shop?”

“It’s a garden center,” Mart answered.

Daisy’s face lit up.  "That has some delish potential..  You know, if I post this, you might get sales from it.  Would you be interested in becoming a sponsor of my blog?”

“I don’t think so,” grimaced Mart.

An awkward silence filled the cabin, broken by Jim’s declaration,

“I think we’re ready to eat. But where are Honey and Diana?”

“I’ll get them,” volunteered Trixie, who had seen her two friends sneak into the bathroom.

Rapping softly,  she whispered into the old oak portal.  “It’s me. Let me in.”

Diana opened the door and hustled Trixie inside.

“I see you guys found the last safe space in the cabin,” groused Trixie.

“Can you believe her?” Diana furiously twirled her hair around her fingertip.  

“No,” answered Trixie. “Hey, maybe we could eat in here and avoid any more delish pics.”

“Grr….,” snarled Diana.  “If she squeals one more time, I think I will pull out all my hair.”

“Don’t do that,” advised Trixie in a snarky tone.  “Because then she’ll want you to come to her salon so she can give you a new, delish 'do.”

“Look,” Honey checked her watch.  “All we have to do is get through the meal and dessert, then somehow get rid of her.”

“Maybe we can put a snake on her chair,” suggested Trixie, half jokingly.

“Or a frog,” grinned Diana.

“We can’t do either of those,” whined Honey.

“Why not?” demanded Trixie. “She certainly deserves it.”

“Because we’re Bobwhites and you know what that means.” Honey chewed furiously at her bottom lip..

“Gleeps!” exclaimed Trixie.  “If only we weren’t so nice”

Diana nibbled at a lavender colored thumb nail.  “Let’s agree to make it through dinner and dessert then somehow maneuver her out of the cabin so we can enjoy the rest of the evening. And, we also need to make it very clear that we are not interested in being a part of her blog.”

“Agreed,” replied Trixie and Honey in unison.

The girls left the bathroom and joined the others around the old wooden table. Daisy was still moving dishes around and trying to get interesting pictures with different angles.  A quick glance at the male Bobwhites’ faces showed their waning patience and increasing annoyance.  Finally, everybody sat down and the traditional Bobwhite Friendsgiving Feast began.  Dishes were passed and plates were filled.  Laughter, conversation and the  continuous clatter of silverware against the old china filled the air.

“So, Tad,” said Dan. “Since you bailed on hosting Friendsgiving, will you be signing up for and then bailing on Christmas?”

Tad rolled his eyes.  “Look.  The work on the house is almost finished.  So, yes, we can have the Christmas celebration at the new Webster home.”

“Are you sure you’re not being too optimistic?” asked Brian.  “After all, I've seen the state of your place. We can meet at my house if needed.”

“No,” said Trixie.  “The kitchen is nearly done and then we’ll be ready.”

“Ooh!” exclaimed Diana.  “I can’t wait to help with the finishing touches.”

“Please do,” answered Trixie.  “You’ve seen my pictures of how I want it to look and I know you can make those pictures happen.”

“Well,” said Honey.  “As soon as your house is no longer a construction zone, just whistle and we’ll be there with bells on.”

“I have lots of ideas too,” piped up  Daisy. “And I’d love to have your house featured on my blog.”

“Oh?”  Panicked, Trixie looked around the table.

Daisy continued, “As long as we don’t do anything on a Saturday, because I work every Saturday.” She popped a roasted brussel sprout into her mouth.

Trixie grimaced.  “Yeah, well, we’re going to decorate on a Saturday because that’s the only day I’m off.”

Daisy stuck out her bottom lip and feigned a pout.  “Sad dibbles. But maybe I can stop by and take a lot of pictures for my blog.”

“Unlikely.” Trixie shook back her curls. “And what do sad dibbles mean?”

Daisy beamed.  “It’s the opposite of delish.”

“Of course. I should have known.” Trixi held out her plate.  “Can I have some more cornbread pudding, Dan?”

“You bet.” Dan spooned another pile onto her plate. “Anybody else?”

Several more plates appeared in front of him and soon Dan was scraping the dish clean.  

“Oh my gosh,” exclaimed Daisy.  “Look at that adorable spoon.”

Dan froze, holding the spoon with a picture of a cute fox and pumpkins on it in mid air.

 “Oh. I must get a picture of that,” Daisy said as she slid her phone out of her back pocket.

“Wait,  I have an idea.” She shoved Mart’s plate out of her way.  “Why don’t you place that spoon right next to the centerpiece.  It’s perfect for the image I’m trying to project.”

At the end of the table, Jim dropped his head into his hands and groaned softly.  “I’m so sorry, guys,”he muttered, but nobody heard because Daisy was busy directing the others on the placement of napkins and other plates to showcase the one lone spoon.

“How about dessert, Dan?” Jim called out.  “I know Mart baked a cherry pie and I’m ready for a piece.”

“You know the rules, guys,” cautioned Brian.  “Clean up first, then we indulge with the desserts.  I brought some windmill cookies fresh from Mrs. V.  And Jim brought a pumpkin cheesecake. But Mart’s pie might just be the winner.”

“Then let’s get to cleaning up,” said Honey.  “I can’t wait to get to that pie.”

Honey stacked several plates and carried them into the kitchen while Diana and Tad gathered the empty casserole dishes.  Trixie and Brian collected the used wine glasses, then hand washed them so they could hold the dessert wine Brian had brought.   In the kitchen, Honey and Dan got busy washing and drying the dishes, while the others finished their tasks.  But Daisy proved to be a hindrance to the entire operation due her incessant need to capture pictures of everybody helping out.  

“Oh, Honey,” she gushed.  “You look so domestic with those yellow gloves on.  Let me get a quick pic.  Smile!”

Honey turned but did not offer a smile.  Instead, she just stared at Daisy, her mouth in a straight line and her jaw rigid.

“Tad,” cried Daisy.  “I should get a picture of you patting your stomach, you know, like you totally ate too much food.  It would be a delish ad for the community center.”

But Tad just continued to gather the trash and stuff it into a garbage bag.

“And Trixie,” said Daisy.  “If you could just hold those wine glasses up to the light, like you’re checking for fingerprints or lipstick, that would also be so delish,  especially with Honey in the background wearing those gloves.”

As everyone scurried around the kitchen, Daisy continued to snap pictures and exclaim over each and everyone she took.  Leaving the bustling kitchen, she wandered around the cabin, taking several shots of the fireplace and even the aging barn that she could see through the window. She was just finishing with her multitude of barn shots when she noticed an old, framed Audubon poster that pictured birds of the area.  

“Ick!” she shrieked.  “Dan.  Shame on you.  I’ll have to delete you from my blog.”

“What’d he do,” asked Trixie quickly as she came to see what the commotion was about.  “I am on a need to know basis right now.”

Daisy pounded on the framed glass with her perfectly manicured nails.  “It’s this.  I hate birds.  I mean, I really hate birds, especially these,” she pointed to a Bobwhite.

“Why?” asked Jim, who set a stack of freshly washed plates on the table.

Daisy sighed dramatically. “They totally ruined my childhood. See, when I was a little girl, my parents and I were out hiking and I was so excited.” She winked at Jim.  “I was wearing my new jeans that I had just gotten at the mall and had on the cutest boots with them. Anyway, all of a sudden, these stupid Bobwhites shot out from under some bushes and flapped around my legs.  I was so scared I literally screamed my head off.  And then I fell down and ruined my beautiful, new jeans.  So, yes, I detest these birds. They’re evil.”

“They’re actually quite tame,” countered Jim.  “And they’re becoming a bit threatened so we try to protect them.”

“All bobwhites should die, if you ask me,” protested Daisy.

“Well, nobody did,” muttered Trixie under her breath to Mart, who had also heard the shrieking and had come into the room.

“Let’s just put this picture outside,” said Daisy.  “Mart, can you help me?”

Mart stood still, his arms across his chest. “ Why don’t you just leave the picture alone?”

“I can’t.  I can’t have anything that remotely resembles a bird near me.  I’ll just get hysterical. It won’t be pretty.”

“Try to deal with it,” said Mart who turned and went back into the kitchen where the rest of the group was just finishing up. Jim and Trixie followed.

“Really?” pouted Daisy.  “Isn’t anybody going to get rid of this horrible picture?” Getting no response, Daisy took the picture off the wall, opened the front door, and tossed it into the yard. Brushing off her hands, she joined the Bobwhites who were now gathering around the table.

“You guys will have to check my blog tomorrow,” she instructed.  “You will all be so famous. It will be delish.”

“Watch out,” cautioned Mart as he edged his way around the kitchen, holding a golden pie over his head.  “Dessert coming though.”  He proudly set the pie down in the center of the table, then stood back. “The pie de resistance,” he said with a slight bow. “And in the beautiful plate that Moms made.”

The group admired the fluted pie dish that Helen Belden had made in her ceramics class.  She had carefully painted eight bobwhites around the sides, one for each of the original group and the eighth for Tad.  In the center of the plate, hidden by the pie, she had painted a replica of the beloved clubhouse.

Daisy eagerly reached for her phone, then suddenly the small cabin again reverberated with her screams.

“Get that out of here,” she cried.

“Get what out of here?” asked Dan as he scoured the room in search of what Daisy was referring to.

“That…that….dish!” Daisy pointed her finger at the pie on the table.

”The pie?” asked a bewildered Brian.

“Not the pie. The dish! Oh, it’s just so horrible.  I can’t stand it.  Somebody get rid of it.”

“Gleeps!” cried Trixie. “We’re not getting rid of anything, especially the pie.”

“You guys aren’t listening. It’s not the pie.  It’s the dish that it’s in.” Daisy covered her face with her hands and whimpered softly.

“Get rid of it? You expect us to throw away the pie dish because…?” Mart sputtered.

“I’m confused.” said Brian.  “I would think of all the things in this cabin, the pie dish would represent the epitome of a loving family and all that other hooey you’ve been trying to capture all afternoon.”

Daisy shook her head.  “Absolutely not!  I hate Bobwhites and anything to do with them. Weren’t you guys listening earlier?”

“No,” said Tad tightly.  “We were all working. What were you doing?”

Daisy began to frantically jump up and down. “Get rid of that stupid dish and then I will tell you.”

Dan grabbed a clean dish towel and tossed it over the pie.  “There.  Does that suit you, Miss Daisy?” His eyes flashed with anger.

Daisy nodded.  Patting her chest in an attempt to calm herself, she recounted the story of how she was hiking with her family in the woods one day when she was attacked by a Bobwhite, making her stumble and tear her new pair of jeans.

“That’s it?” Mart curled his lip in disgust. “All this hysteria over something that happened when you were a kid?”

“It was so much more than that,” insisted Daisy.  “It was completely traumatizing.”

“Traumatizing?” Dan echoed. “Did the Bobwhite actually attack or did you startle it? “Because they do startle easily when someone enters their territory and coming out of a bush and flapping at the perceived threat is just the way to protect themselves.”

“Who cares if they startle or flap or whatever else?” cried Daisy.  “I  hate them and anything that is connected to them.”

“You do know they are quite coveted in North America, don’t you?” asked Brian .

“I don’t really care. As far as I’m concerned, they should all be removed from this continent and sent to the South Pole where they would freeze to death,” replied Daisy, nodding her head sharply in affirmation of her statement.

“That seems absurd and harsh,” said Brian.  “Afterall, they are just harmless birds with wonderful tweets.” Brian gave the familiar Bobwhite whistle.

“Stop!” yelled Daisy as she covered her ears.  “Just stop with all this Bobwhite torture.”

She looked at Dan.  “Can’t you just cut this pie in the kitchen so I don’t have to see this awful plate.”

Dan stood still, dismay and anger apparent on his tense face.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake,” exclaimed Honey as she grabbed the pie.  “I’ll take care of it.”

Honey disappeared into the kitchen where she proceeded to slice the pie into pieces and plate them.  A few minutes later, she reappeared, holding several plates.

“Can somebody please grab the other pieces,” she asked.

“Not me,” replied Daisy.  “I don’t want to be near those Bobwhites.”

Trixie rolled her eyes then went into the kitchen and got the rest of the plates.  She and Honey distributed them around the table, then the group prepared to sit down while Daisy fluffed her hair and straightened her bracelets.

“Wait!” Daisy ordered.  “Now that this table looks presentable, I simply have to get a shot or two.  Everybody stand back.”  As Daisy snapped her pics, she mumbled, “And no stupid Bobwhites to be seen.”

When she was done, she motioned to the group, “Now we can eat.”

Everybody picked up their forks in preparation of eating, but Daisy sighed dramatically.  “Oh dibbles! I’m not sure if I can actually eat my piece.  I just keep seeing that horrible plate. I hope your mom didn’t make anymore Bobwhite paraphernalia.  Clearly, she doesn’t follow my blog or she would know what delish decor is, which that dish clearly is not.”

Around the table, the group of friends stared at Daisy. But Trixie, who was next to Mart noticed  something else; her brother’s subtle movements.  While Daisy moved a few objects around before snapping one last photo, Mart surreptitiously slid Daisy’s piece of pie toward himself, then just as she started to drop onto her chair, he quickly slid it underneath her.  When she sat down, a puzzled then horrified  look crossed her face.

“What’s going on?” she cried as she frantically shifted in her chair.

Daisy looked around the table then at either side of her. Glancing down, she saw the bright red cherry juice begin to ooze out from under her white slacks. With an echoing shriek, she jumped up.

“My pants!  My delish pants! They're ruined.” she screamed.   She dabbed furiously at the spreading stain, but only succeeded in smearing the sweet, gooey pie filling further. “Now what am I going to do?” she demanded. “I can’t go around in public with pants that look like this.  I’ll be the laughing stock of the internet. This is a major double dibble disaster.”

“Calm down,” advised Honey. “It’s not the end of the world.  Just run your pants under cold water and that should loosen the stain.”

“How am I supposed to do that in this dinky little cabin?” demanded Daisy. “That bathroom is the size of a volkswagon’s back seat.”

“I thought you said the cabin was rustic and cozy?” smirked Trixie.

Daisy glared at Trixie then wailed.  “Isn’t anybody going to help me?”

Honey got a towel from the kitchen and handed it to Daisy.  “You should probably go home and take care of your pants.  Be sure to wash them after you’ve given them a soaking in the cold water. You can put this towel underneath you so you don't make a mess in Jim’s car.”

Diana rose and went into Dan’s room where she found Daisy’s coat. “Here you go.” She held out Daisy’s garment.  “And, by the way, you need to  know that we, all of us, are part of a group and we call ourselves the Bobwhites.”

“I should have known,” snarled Daisy.

Flinging her wrap over her shoulders, she turned and stormed out the door, holding the dish towel over the stained portion of her pants. Jim had no choice but to follow.  As he was closing the door, he leaned back in and whispered,

“I’ll be returning in a jiffy.  And then, I’ll want to know who I am to thank for orchestrating her hasty and dramatic exit.”

 

When the door closed, silence filled the room.  The group all looked at each other, but nobody spoke.  Then, Trixie began to giggle, followed by Honey then Diana.  The men joined in, turning the giggles into riotous laughter. Honey and Trixie, still giggling and with tears running down their cheeks, cleaned up the mess on the chair, while Diana rearranged the seating at the table.   Finally, Dan said,

“How did that happen?  I saw the pie on the table and then suddenly, it was under her.”

Mart shrugged.  “Natch! Who knows how such things occur.  Maybe it was Bobwhite karma. But I have a sneaking suspicion we won’t be seeing Miss Daisy O’Dare anytime soon. All Bobwhites are safe.”  He exhaled a long, sad sigh.  “We’ll eat as soon as Jim gets back but I do hope he hurries. But to be honest, I do regret such a sad waste of pie.” Stroking his chin, he paused and studied the open, raftered ceiling above him.  “Or maybe it wasn’t such a waste of pie after all.”

Across the table, Dan stretched out and stacked his hands behind his head. “So close,” he said.  “We were so close. I swear I could almost taste a successful Friendsgiving Feast.”

“It was successful,” protested Brian. “And somebody’s just desserts were served.”

The group again burst into laughter, filling the cabin with its happy noise.

“Well, there’s always next year,” suggested Honey brightly.  “I mean this bad luck or karma or whatever you want to call it can’t go on forever even though it has lasted for too many years already.”

“I don’t know, Honey,” said Dan.  “It’s been irritatingly persistent since we started doing this feast.  I can’t imagine it’s going to end any time soon. I don’t even want to imagine what horrors are in store for next year’s get-together.”

“Speaking of that, how about we decide next year’s host while we’re waiting,” suggested Diana.

Mart’s hand shot up.  “Our place.  And between now and then, I’m going to do my darndest to find a complete set of Bobwhite dinnerware, plus table linens and a dozen or so replicas of our favorite bird with which I can festoon the dining table. Thus, Miss Daisy O’Dare won’t even be tempted to darken our festive celebration.”

The group toasted to the next year’s plan, then started discussing ideas for Trixie and Tad’s Christmas get together.

“Gleeps! I’ve got it,” exclaimed Trixie.  “Earlier, I was trying to decide how to decorate a tree in the den window and now I know; I’m going to make it a Bobwhite tree. That should keep Daisy from wanting to have anything to do with our house.” She grinned at Mart.  “It will be so delish.”

“I’ll tell you what’s delish,” said Mart.  “My pie. Now hurry up, Jim.” He looked at Dan.  “And you thought this year was so close? Au contraire, fellow Bobwhite. I’d say we hit a bullseye, right on Miss Daisy’s caboose. And that moment was definitely delish!”

“Hear! Hear!” chorused the group as they raised their glasses to each other.

***********************************************************************************************

word count - 7659

Author’s notes:  Thank you to my sister Judith for her editing and my daughter Katie for her content advice.  A special thank you to the characters whom I borrow with total respect and love.

Cracker Jacks - a caramel-coated popcorn and peanut mixture that was created in Chicago in 1896.

Volkswagen - a German automobile manufacturer, established in 1937.