Page 58 of Blame it on the Bet
He disappears back into the kitchen. Big Win sits across from me, and Bailey materializes out of nowhere.
“Hey,” she says with a nod in my direction.
“Oh, hi! Where’d you come from?”
“I had a youth choir rehearsal after service.”
“You sing? Nice.”
“Oh, she sings like an angel,” Hennessy adds. “She had a solo in the Christmas cantata last year.”
“I’m going to sing at Hennessy’s wedding,” Bailey announces proudly, just as Win and Jameson return to the table with side dishes and take their seats.
“Congratulations,” I offer Hennessy, only half kidding.
Bailey’s comment has me wondering if there’s someone waiting in the wings that I don’t know about. Someone with serious intentions. Of the marital variety. My stomach churns at the prospect.
Hennessy rolls her eyes.
“She’s been saying that since she was five,” she explains. “Someday, Bailey. But not anytime soon.”
“Okay, okay, all that polkaing has made me ravenous,” Jameson declares dramatically. “Win, would you like to say grace?”
“Nope. I’ll pass,” he says lightly, ignoring the beseeching look he’s getting from his wife. “I’m not Catholic,” he informs me.
“That doesn’t mean you can’t say grace,” Jameson reminds him. “It might be nice if your son saw you do it once in a while.”
But Win just shrugs.
“I’ll do it,” Hennessy pipes up, bringing the sunniness back to her sister’s face. She begins to cross herself. “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
I follow suit, slightly behind for my inexperience at the action.
“Heavenly Father,” she begins in a tone that is both reverent and sweet. “Thank You for this day of song and worship. And thank You for the love of friends and family.” She pauses to clear her throat, and when she resumes again, her voice is a little softer than previously. “Thank You especially for our newest friend, Bryan. We pray that You will watch over us and guide us with Your divine presence, that we may be of service to You. In Jesus’s name, we pray, Amen.”
We all cross again, echoing her “Amen.”
“Thank you, Hennessy,” I murmur. “That was really nice.”
I’m not used to being the subject of other people’s prayers, and it’s kind of touching, actually.
“We’re happy to have you Bryan,” Jameson pipes up. “Now, dig in, everyone!”
She passes a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes to her left and an equally impressive serving of green beans to her right. In the center of the table is the spiral ham, slathered in brown sugar glaze. I spot a basket of crescent rolls and reach for it at exactly the same instant as Hennessy.
“Oh, sorry,” she murmurs when our hands touch.
“No, please,” I insist, pulling my hand away and holding my palm out like a game show hostess highlighting the attributes of a prize.
“Oh no, you first…” Win snorts.
“You two sound more like you’re on a first date than like adversaries.”
We all let the comment go, and I grab a roll for the sake of restoring peace to the table. After that, I load up my plate with a sampling of everything on the table. Miss Lucy’s hotdish aside, I can’t recall the last time I had a meal that didn’t come in a cardboard container.
“Everything is fantastic, Jameson,” I say appreciatively, shoveling another forkful into my mouth.
“Thank you, Bryan.” She beams, and I’m struck by how lovely all of the O’Halloran sisters are. Even the sullen Walker, who’s nowhere to be found.
