We return home in time to add the finishing touches to our Christmas Eve dinner. Kookie and Emmie put our relish plate together. They slice cheese and set out crackers as well as pickles and black olives.
“Don’t forget the pickled herring,” I remind them as I grab the jar of creamed herring from the fridge.
Emmie wrinkles up her face and sticks out her tongue.
“You’re in good company, Emmie. I don’t like it either. But my husband just loves it.”
“It’s good,” Kookie opines.
Privately, I’m thinking that perhaps one day Emmie’s husband will like it too.
As though beckoned by our conversation, my husband, now sporting his Christmas beard, wanders into the kitchen. He eyes the relish plate and its compartment full of creamed fish and asks me, “So, are you going to eat lots of herring tonight?”
I pat his shoulder and assure him dramatically, “I will make a sacrifice. I know how much you love herring, so you can have all mine.”
“Too bad for you,” he responds, his white teeth gleaming in the midst of his dark beard. A forest of hairs I see only once a year, over Christmas break. It’s a special time.
He grabs a cracker off the tray and slides it through the creamed herring before popping it into his mouth. I grimace as I watch an expression of utter delight pass over his face while the smell of fish fills my nostrils. I will definitely not be kissing him for a while.
Hmm. Perhaps I should encourage Kookie and Lyric to eat a lot of herring.
I turn towards Emmie and Kookie. “You guys can set the relish tray out on the coffee table in the living room. I need to warm up the apple cider quickly.”
I grab the jug off the floor and pour four cups of it into a glass quart. I heat it up in the microwave for six minutes until it’s almost boiling. I pour it into my crockpot and turn it on. Then I repeat the process with another quart of cider. I pour the remainder of the jug into the crockpot while the quart cooks in the microwave. I add the steaming cider to the slow cooker, stirring until it’s all blended together. Then I grab a spoon and sample a bit. It’s the perfect temperature.
The potatoes are boiling on the stovetop. We’ll be able to transform them into mashed potatoes soon. The meatballs and lefse are both warming in the oven. The fridge is keeping the cucumber salad and lingonberries chill. I remove the cheesecakes so they can warm up a bit before dessert. They taste best at room temperature. I smile with satisfaction as I glance around my kitchen. Everything is in order.
I wander out to the dining room to check the table and make sure that my little guys placed all the dishes and silverware correctly. Kookie set out the place cards for me. Emmie decorated the tables with a little Christmas greenery and some bright pops of red and white. Several snowmen and a few candy canes give the center of the table a little pizzazz. I glance over at the coffee table. At its center rests the relish tray. Off to its right sits a stack of plates and napkins. We’re pretty much ready for our company.
I head back to the kitchen to put out the cups for the cider. Then I examine the kitchen table. It matches its cousin in the dining room. Kookie and Emmie’s handiwork is evident here too. We are ready.
Which is a good thing. Because the doorbell rings as I turn to check the potatoes. I run a knife through them. All the way. They’re done.
I sigh with relief as I hear Janna and Lyric answer the door. I turn off the burner and grab the colander. I toss it into the sink and then pour the potatoes into it. All the water runs down the drain. The potatoes end up back in the massive pot they just came from. I grab my mixer and beat them up quickly. I add a couple sticks of butter to the pot and put the lid on. Then I rush out to the living room to meet our guests.
––
“Mrs. Franklin,” Lyric greets me as I enter the living room, “this is Cadence,” he slides his arm around his little sister’s shoulders as he pulls her into his side. Or more like, his leg and hip. He’s a giant compared to her! Then he gestures with his chin to a tiny boy in his arms, “and Chord.”
I smile at the two darling children. Who look like they were born into this family. And, apparently, they were aptly named even before they were adopted into this musical clan.
I beam down at them. “Hello, Cadence,” I speak to the girl first. “Do you like Christmas cookies?”
An adorable little head nods in excitement as two long, midnight braids bounce up and down.
“Excellent! Then you came to the right house.” I smile at her before turning my attention to the tiny tot. “Well, hello there, Chord. Do you like cookies too?”
The tiny boy’s sober face suddenly breaks into a wide grin, and I have the impression that he just swallowed the sun as its rays instantly engulf me.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmur with humor lacing my tone. I glance at their parents. “Hello again, Candice. Song,” I bob my head at Lyric’s father. I still find it extraordinary that he decided to take his Korean name and use its English meaning as the inspiration for naming all his children. “Thank you so much for joining us tonight.”
“Oh, no!” exclaims Lyric’s mother. “Thank you for inviting us.” She bends her head towards me in a conspiratorial fashion. “I am so relieved not to have to cook tonight. Thank you for the night off.”
I glance at Lyric. “Don’t you help your mom with meals at home?” I ask in surprise.
“Oh, yes, he does!” she chuckles. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I do it all alone. But you relieved me of the pressure of making a holiday meal. You know Christmas Eve dinner is on a whole other level.”
“Indeed,” I respond as I suppress a chuckle. “I hope tonight’s meal lives up to the legend.”
A delightful ripple of laughter escapes Candice’s mouth. “Oh, I am absolutely sure it will. Lyric raves about your food all the time.”
Surprised, I find my eyes flying to Lyric’s face. I quirk an eyebrow at him. “He does?”
“Yes,” his mother smiles at me. “I can assure you that we have all been looking forward to tonight with great anticipation.”
“Well, I’m honored. I hope it doesn’t disappoint. Please come in. Find a comfortable seat. Help yourselves to the relish tray. We’ve got some crackers, cheese, olives, pickles, and creamed herring for you to enjoy.”
Candice grimaces as I mention the fish, but Song’s face lights up. “Herring?” he asks joyfully. “I want some!”
Lyric’s mother and I chuckle. My eye is drawn towards Lyric as he continues to hold his baby brother close even as he crosses the room and plops down onto the couch.
Chord gazes up at me with his enormous, dark eyes. “Cookie?” he croaks.
I glance at his mother. “Is it okay if I give them both a cookie before dinner?”
Her eyes collide with Cadence’s.
“Please, Mommy?” the little girl begs her.
I can see the woman’s heart melt as the sweet child calls her by a name by which she didn’t come by naturally. “Well, it is Christmas Eve. So,” suddenly her face breaks into a wide grin, “okay!”
A great light suffuses the child’s countenance with joy.
“But,” her mother continues, “only one before dinner.”
Those braids are bobbing up and down again.
“Why don’t you come with me, and you can pick out a cookie for yourself and one for your brother?” I suggest to Cadence.
She nods vigorously as that luminous smile continues to make her face shine.
“Unh-unh.” Chord is trying to break free from Lyric’s lap.
With a chuckle, his adoring big brother scoops him up in his arm and stands up. “Come on, Chord. You can pick out your cookie too.”
The tiny boy gives him a gigantic grin as they head for the kitchen. His big sister follows me. We’re off to the kitchen to pick out a special treat for two precious, little darlings. It’s good to have tiny kiddos in my house again. It’s going to be a few years before any grandchildren are running through its halls.
––
“Mommy?” I hear a small voice join me in the kitchen as I’m putting the finishing touches on dinner while our company assembles in the living room over the relish plate.
I glance up to see Abs standing in the doorway.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Are you going to make sweet potato casserole tomorrow?”
I smile at him. “Do you want me to?”
He bobs his head up and down. “Yeah. Can we?”
“Well, I actually bought a couple bags of sweet potatoes at the store the other day, so we can.”
“What about corn pudding?” asks my eldest son as he steps up behind his little brother.
“I didn’t think anyone liked that anymore.” It’s been one of my favorite dishes since I tried it at a potluck years ago.
“I love it!” Kookie flashes his beautiful, white teeth at me.
“Well, then, I’ll add it to the menu.”
“Yeah!” He fist-bumps the air and bends his grin on Abner.
They high-five each other before disappearing back into the living room. I take a deep breath. We have a lot of food to make tomorrow. But I do have a whole army to help me.
