“This,” Logan said, “is what is known as a post-feast stupor.” He was slumped on the sofa in his mother’s designer living room, his feet propped on her designer coffee table. A football game—the third of the day—was playing on the TV, the crowd noise a low murmur punctuated by cheering. In the next room, Charlie was playing Parcheesi with his cousins. Inez, the housekeeper, was in the kitchen with his sisters, storing away the leftovers and cleaning up after the big meal.
Darcy, equally slumped, turned to him. “You mean you don’t want to go surfing again?”
He chuckled, the picture of her surfing like a goddess playing over and over again in his mind. “What, you don’t think you schooled me already?”
“I wasn’t trying to school you. I just love to surf and don’t get to do it often enough.”
“Where did you learn to surf like that?”
“Long Island. I was a lifeguard at Cupsogue Beach all through high school. Then in college, I did a study year abroad in Australia, just a bus ride away from Bondi Beach.”
“Very cool.” Logan had always sensed a special kind of sexiness in athletic girls. There was something about their confidence that appealed to him. And Darcy had it in spades.
“What about you?” she asked. “You looked pretty good out there yourself.”
“I’m surprised I never ran into you at Cupsogue,” he confessed. “It was one of my favorite places to go when I was shirking chores in the summer.”
“I probably blew the whistle at you when you were a skinny kid getting too close to the jetty,” she said.
She was the same age as his older sister, he thought. Four years older than him. “You should have said hi,” he pointed out.
“Maybe I did. Or maybe we weren’t meant to meet until now.”
For some reason, he liked the idea that they’d been circling closer and closer, unaware of each other until now. He’d never felt quite so comfortable around a woman before. She was just easy to be with. And now that he had the indelible image of her in his head—yellow bikini, board glued to her feet, long hair streaming—she was more interesting than ever.
The brothers-in-law perked up when there was a big play in the game. Al pounded his beer bottle on a side table. “Damn, that’s sweet,” he said. “I always thought you should have gone out for football in high school, son.”
Logan chuckled, though he wasn’t amused. “As I recall, I stayed so busy with soccer there wasn’t time for anything else.”
“You make time for what’s important to you,” said Al.
Logan was determined not to rise to the bait. “Right now I’d like to make time for Mom’s pumpkin pie.”
“Ah, sounds fantastic,” said Bilski.
“I’ll go start hovering in the kitchen,” said Ethan, the other brother-in-law, rising from the sofa with a groan.
“How about you?” Logan asked Darcy. “Pumpkin pie, or pecan?”
“Pumpkin all the way.”
“Hey, I heard a rumor of pie,” said Logan’s niece, Bernie. The rest of the nieces and nephews, along with Charlie, came charging into the room.
“I have a secret weapon,” said Inez as Ethan wheeled out the dessert cart. “I put whipped cream on top and sprinkle it with chopped maple glazed pecans.”
“I can’t make up my mind,” Charlie said.
“Inez, you’re killing me,” said Logan.
“You’re awesome,” said Charlie, wedging himself on the sofa between Logan and Darcy.
“He knows lots of words in Japanese,” said Fisher.
“Yeah,” said Goose. “Charlie speaks Japanese now.”
“Are you getting excited about moving to Japan?” Bilski asked him.
“It’s gonna be pretty rad.” Charlie shoveled in a big bite of pie.
“What are you looking forward to the most?” asked China. She was a teacher, adept at getting kids to talk.
“Dunno,” Charlie said. “I’m not there yet. My Japanese teacher said I’m gonna like the food and the culture. What’s culture, anyway?”
“It’s everything,” said Bernie. “Duh. Mom, when can we go to Japan to visit Charlie?”
“We can’t,” said her older sister, Nan. “He lives with his other family there, and they’re the enemy.”
“Are not,” Charlie snapped.
“He’s right,” said China. “They are not the enemy. Where in the world did you get that idea?”
“After people split up, they’re enemies,” said Nan, with firm authority.
“That’s just silly. Tell Charlie you’re sorry.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
“Sometimes I feel the same way,” Charlie admitted, mumbling past another bite of pie.
Logan lost his appetite. He ached for the kid. Was there any way to protect him from feeling torn loyalties? Any way to protect him from the life Logan and Daisy had given him? He hadn’t asked to be born to two people who weren’t meant to be together. All he wanted was to be part of a family, a regular kid. But Logan wasn’t sure it was his job to make the kid feel okay about moving halfway around the globe.
“Hey,” he said, “you’re in Florida, you stood up on a surfboard today, you had an epic Thanksgiving dinner and pumpkin pie. So life is good.”
“Yeah.” Charlie nodded agreeably enough.
“We have a lot,” said Logan. “A lot to be thankful for.”
“Yep.”
“Friends and family,” China said.
“Full bellies and Florida sunshine,” Marion added.
“And pie that makes me forget the whole world,” Darcy said. “Marion, I really appreciate being here with you guys.”
“I wish you could stay longer,” said Logan’s mother.
Logan checked his watch. “That reminds me. My shift is about to start.”
“How’s that? Are we eating in shifts now?” asked Bilski.
“Charlie and I are going to help serve dinner at Ryder House. It’s a place for kids who aren’t with their families.”
“Are they orphans?” asked Bernie.
“Some of them, yes. And some are just there temporarily. They come from lots of different circumstances.”
“Can I come?” Bernie asked.
“If you want to help,” he said, looking around the room. “Anyone else?”
“I’ll join you,” Darcy said. “I need to find a way out of this food-induced trance.”
The SUV was full, with Charlie and three of his cousins buckled in the backseat and Darcy in the front. The cargo area was loaded with boxed pies Logan had ordered the day before from the Sky High Pie Company, his contribution to the community feast. The afternoon light of South Florida gilded the neighborhood in a dreamy sheen, but as they left Paradise Cove behind, the scenery shed its charm, like the sad aftermath of a parade.
In the backseat, Nan led everyone in a chorus of “Over the River.” There were no rivers in sight, no white and drifting snow, just a depressing series of strip centers that all looked virtually the same—nail salons, pawnshops, coin laundries, payday loan outfits.
The Ryder Center was surrounded by chain-link fencing. Although the welcome sign proclaimed it “A Place For Hope,” an air of despair hung like Spanish moss from the trees. This was where people brought children they no longer wanted or couldn’t care for. The social workers and volunteers were passionate and committed, but sometimes there just wasn’t any substitute for family.
