With everyone now back on Lori and Chuck’s property, a peaceful lull came over the family. Lori began dinner preparations with the assistance of Iseul and Tom. While Iseul generally preferred not to interact with her in-laws, she still wanted to contribute to the occasion. Cooking was something she could do well, much better than conversing in her second-language at least. Tom enjoyed both women’s company and would rather avoid awkward dialogues with Chuck. The other men and children, however, decided to enjoy the back patio.

The patio consisted of a wide concrete slab, a fancy grill on one side, a seating area and fire pit on the other. Between the two sections was a heat lamp and a bistro-style table and chairs for Lori when she was inclined to take meals outside. A garden sprouted adjacent to the lounge, now brown and hibernating for the winter. Spilling away from the concrete, the yard sloped in plain grass. The children used to love sliding down on the rare occasions when the snow was thick enough.

Placed next to the heat lamp and wrapped in a blanket, Grandpa Roy savored the fresh air in comfort. He needed some recharging after his long-winded discussions with Solly. The time had simply flown by after his family left him near the medical tent. In fact, he had been a little miffed they came back for him so soon. But it was Christmas, and he wasn’t going to tell them off.

Roy’s sons and grandson loitered near him, bottles in hand, discussing last month’s draft picks. Jacob ignited the fire pit and nestled into one of the sturdy outdoor armchairs with Melissa, despite the piece being designed for one person. Helen took a chair adjacent to them so as not to have to look at the couple. Joaquin sat on the arm of her seat.

Struck with an idea, Chuck placed his beer on the bistro table. “Wanna practice your swing?” He patted Roger’s shoulder. “You can use my four iron.”

Roger nodded with scant interest, but he had little else to do.

Chuck stepped into the sunroom and grabbed two clubs from his golf bag propped against the window. “Ready the pinecones, Gray!”

Taking a swig of his cola, Gray shuffled to the corner of the patio where a pile of pinecones huddled under the shade of a gardenia bush. With his foot, he nudged them over to a patch of artificial green at the edge of the concrete slab. It became a miniature game of soccer as he tried to keep them from rolling down the slope.

Under the pastel wash of sunset, Chuck began driving pinecones onto their neighbor below them. The whoosh of each swing and crackle of pine cones meeting siding and shingles was a surprisingly soothing composition for the settling dusk. Grandpa Roy even fell victim to a nap.

“Got a grudge against your neighbors down there or something?” Joaquin asked, tracing the trajectory of the cones.

Chuck waved him off. “They don’t even live there full time. With all the shit the trees drop on ‘em during the year, they hardly notice.”

Roger aimed for the side of the property where there was only vegetation to assault. Gray busied himself with his phone.

“You wanna have a go?” Chuck asked, eagerly looking to Joaquin.

Joaquin glanced to Helen for approval. She cocked her head to urge him on.

To placate the man, Joaquin momentarily borrowed the club Roger was using with his permission. He chose a squat cone with the scales fully spread. He readied his swing. The wind shifted. He swung. It was a chip. The pinecone burst into shards, sending organic shrapnel into Chuck’s face. Melissa held her hands over her mouth, aghast. Helen held her hands over her mouth to suppress a laugh.

“Dad! Are you okay?” Gray asked, putting his phone down.

Chuck sputtered and coughed. He wiped his eyes. Never had he looked more like a walrus than in that instance.

Roger gripped his brother’s head between his hands, inspecting the damage. “Ah, most of it just got you in the mouth. Your eyes are fine, you baby.”

“I’m so sorry!” Joaquin uttered with a whine that reminded Helen of a puppy.

“That’s some swing you got there, Joaquin!” Chuck spat, though he seemed more amused than annoyed.

“I’m deeply sorry, Sir.”

“Pfft. Keep your apologies to yourself! This is the kinda shit my friends used to pull all the time!” Chuck whooped. “Boy this brings me back!”

Gray rolled his eyes and resumed looking at his phone.

“Remember when George pissed in your big gulp on that trip to the mountains?” Roger said with a grin as he adjusted his baseball cap.

Chuck brushed pinecone bits from his mustache. “Oh, I got him back good!” The two men continued to reminisce and laugh while Joaquin stiffly walked back to Helen’s side, leaving the golf club to rest by a napping Grandpa Roy.

“Congrats, you’re one of the boys now!” Helen giggled into his ear.

Melissa and Jacob remained stunned in their shared chair.

Once the temperature dipped a degree too cool for the heat lamp and fire pit to abate, the group returned inside. With the double ovens both occupied, heat filled the open-concept kitchen and living room. Jacob regaled them with a story of his backpacking adventure through Brazil one summer in college as they waited on the sectional for dinner. Chuck kept asking about the women there, much to Melissa’s annoyance.

While waiting for the ovens to do their work, Iseul helped Lori set the dining table. The two women may have been polar opposites in personality, but they both appreciated a well-dressed table. Somewhere in the sprawling kitchen, a timer dinged.

“Dinner’s on!” Tom announced.

Jacob insisted on wrapping up his story before his captive audience was allowed to stand and mosey to the table. There was just enough time for the food to be plated and moved for service when Jacob told them of his business class seat home and the mimosas served on the flight.

“Thank God dinner’s ready,” Joaquin whispered to Helen as they left the sectional.

Helen nodded hard enough to jostle her bangs.

The family filed into the formal dining room to a sumptuous spread. Iseul stood proudly by her casserole. The joint project of scalloped potatoes rested between her and Lori. A mound of biscuits baked by Tom loomed on the side. The honey ham reheated by the oven graced the center. While the majority of the company was mediocre at best, the food was the biggest draw for Helen during the holidays. Even better that she never had to pay for it or cook it.

“Red or rosé, guys?” Lori asked with two wine bottles in hand as the others seated themselves.

Jacob lifted a hand as if he were a student in a classroom. “Is that a Zinfandel or Cabernet?”

“Merlot. We emptied the zin a couple of nights ago.”

“More like you did, Lor,” Chuck commented.

“I forgot to pick up another bottle.”

Jacob capitulated. “I’ll have the rosé I guess.”

“Same for me!” Melissa chimed.

“It’s sparkling,” said Lori.

“Pass,” sighed Jacob. He glanced over at Joaquin. “My man! Gimme one of those imports, will ya?”

Joaquin reached into the cooler under the table. He found a common brand German label and slid Jacob the bottle.

“Ooh, yes! I love my bubbles!” Melissa eagerly watched her mother pour the rosé into a glass for her.

Helen would rather get her bubbles from a soft drink. She had never liked how dry wine was. She stuck a hand in the cooler, retrieving a lemon-lime soda. It would be perfect to cut through the fattiness of the ham. The wine flowed freely between most everyone else. Joaquin had a snifter of Merlot, to be polite, but his main libation for the night was simply ginger ale.

Drinks by their plates, the family dug into the meal. For once, conversation was put to a halt as food stuffed their mouths. Even Jacob chose to pause his diet for a while as he indulged in the leanest slices of ham. They carved away the casserole. The mound of biscuits shrank. They pulled more and more meat away, exposing the bone. Glasses emptied. If the holidays didn’t unify families, food certainly did.

Despite nearly decimating the ham, everyone still had room for dessert. The Halidays had a choice between three pies this Christmas Eve. Tom had bought them from an artisan bakery as his contribution to the festivities. Helen served herself a large slice from the Boston cream pie, her favorite. Joaquin took a slice of apple. The third pie, pumpkin, was quickly demolished by Chuck, Gray, and Grandpa Roy. The rest of the family enjoyed the remainders, as pie was good no matter the flavor.