The Fairytale Life of Dorothy Gale by Virginia Kantra

Author:Virginia Kantra [Kantra, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2023-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

—

Christmas dinner for half the neighborhood,” Sam had said.

They crowded the Clerys’ modest apartment, a couple with two toddlers, an elderly nun, a man with dreadlocks who worked at the shop. I counted three aunts, four uncles including Gerry-the-cabbie, two handfuls of cousins (Or the children of cousins? Below a certain age, I couldn’t tell the generations apart), and a baby. There was lots of chatting and drinking and passing plates of food. The TV crackled with pop carols and a streaming yule log, adding to the noise. The smells—turkey and Brussel sprouts, beer and bodies—pervaded the close, warm space.

Anything less like Christmas in Kansas was hard to imagine.

Toni was laughing, throwing herself into a competitive card game with Sam’s brother and sisters. I wasn’t sure of the rules, but exploding kittens were involved. Under the table, the orange cat groomed itself, apparently unconcerned.

Gerry, the cab driver, knocked a cigarette from the pack in his pocket.

“No smoking in the house,” Janette said. “You know the rules.”

“Your husband smoked.”

“Right. And now he’s dead.”

My gaze flew to Sam. His crooked mouth lifted on one side.

“Rest his soul,” Gerry said. He raised his glass. “To Martin.”

The chorus ran around the table. “To Martin.” “My brother.” “Ar dheis Dé go raibh a anam.”

They all drank. The baby knocked over a water glass, prompting a flurry of napkins and exclamations.

“Sorry, Aunt Jan,” the young mother said, blotting the tablecloth.

“No problem, darling.”

Grace peeled off an orange section for the baby, who promptly flung it to the cat under the table.

“And when is one of you lot going to give my sister a grandchild?” an older woman asked, with a look around at the Clerys.

“I’m going to uni, Aunt Nora,” Grace said.

Fiadh crossed her arms. “Don’t look at me. I’m not wanting crotch fruit yet.”

“Sam?”

“Sorry, love.” He winked. “I always use protection.”

“Gerry, you light up that fag in this house, and I’ll put it out on your forehead,” Janette said.

The doorbell rang.

“Come in! It’s open!”

“One of you get that,” Janette said.

With a put-upon sigh, Jack left the card game and slouched into the hall. “It’s for Grace,” he said, returning a moment later.

“Well, don’t leave whoever it is standing there. Invite them in.”

A figure materialized behind him. A lanky, red-haired boy. My mouth soured as I recognized him.

“Well, look at that,” Fiadh drawled. “It’s Danny Doyle.”

I reached for my wineglass, rinsing the flat taste from my mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sam asked.

Janette’s eyes narrowed. “Language.”

Danny’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Clery. From my mother.” He handed her a box of chocolates. “And this is for you.” He offered a smaller box to Grace.

She took it, turning a pretty pink.

Danny’s gaze met mine. His blush rivaled Grace’s before he jerked his head in acknowledgment and looked away.

“Get the boy some pudding,” one of the aunts—Ruby? Eileen?—said.

“We’re out of forks,” Fiadh said.

Grace took a step toward the kitchen. “I’ll wash some up.”

“I can help,” Danny said eagerly.

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