But Lawton never even looked in my direction.
Slowly, I let my gaze drift to Loretta, who'd resumed her seat and sat with her hands steepled in front of her. Our eyes met, almost like she'd been watching for my reaction.
I knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted me to freak out. I'd look like a total idiot, especially in front of a guest. This posed an even bigger question. Would she make Josh eat it in front of company?
This shouldn’t be a big deal. I was blowing things out of proportion. It'd be fine. Maybe.
Slowly, the dishes starting making their way around the table. I took a little of everything, even the cranberry sauce, which I'd never liked.
So far, the gravy was just sitting there, uncirculated and unmentioned, except for Loretta's introductory remarks. But the longer it sat, the more tense the table became. I could feel it in the air – anticipation, dread, or in my dad's case, probably a mixture of both.
And then, someone reached for it.
Lawton.
He picked up the gravy boat and surveyed its contents. "You said oyster gravy, right?" He took a big, whiff of it and grinned. "My favorite. Did you know, my great-grandma, she was a fishwife on the Detroit river, this was her specialty too?"
I snuck a glance in Loretta's direction.
She bared her teeth in a pale imitation of a smile. "How nice."
Lawton shrugged. "Not really. She stunk like fish something awful. But man, she made the best gravy."
As I watched, he ladled a scoop onto his mashed potatoes, then kept going, one ladle after another. Loretta hadn't made a whole lot, probably because only two people were expected to eat it. Soon, the entire gravy bowl was empty.
Lawton's eyebrows furrowed. He looked toward Loretta. "This wasn't all of it, was it?"
Loretta sat, her back straight and her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid it was."
Lawton looked down at his plate. "Oh jeez. I'm sorry." He held out his plate toward Loretta. "You want mine?"
"No," she said. "That won't be necessary. But thank you."
"Oh well. More for me." And Lawton started digging in.
I watched in absolute horror, and more than a little admiration, as he started to devour everything on his plate, gravy and all. In mid-bite, he looked up. "You guys are eating too, right?"
Suddenly, it occurred to me how incredibly rude we were all being, watching him eat like some kind of zoo animal. I grabbed my fork and started eating too. Soon, Lauren Jane and Josh followed suit. Finally, with a shrug, my dad joined in.
He looked at Lawton. "Boy, you sure have a good appetite," he said.
"Can't help it," Lawton said. "I never eat this good at home." He offered up a conspiratorial grin. "And if the tabloids are true, I have two French chefs."
According to the tabloids, he also had a pet leopard and a dick the size of Texas. Only half of that was true.
And it wasn't the leopard.
My dad dug into his plain mashed potatoes. "Two chefs, you say?" he boomed across the table. "Lucky me, all I need is Loretta."
I slid my gaze in Loretta's direction. Her fork still rested by her plate. Slowly, I realized I wasn't the only one looking. We all were.
"Gee Mom," Lauren Jane said, "aren't you gonna eat anything?" She rolled her eyes. "You're not on another diet, are you?"
"No," Loretta said through a clenched jaw. "I'm not on a diet."
"Then dig in, honey," my dad said. "This is some darn good eatin'."
I turned to stare at my dad. Was it Talk-Like-a-Cowboy Day or something? This wasn't the way he usually spoke, even in front of company. Usually, his grammar got better, not worse, even with his volume turned way up.