With a sigh she hit the button and put the phone to her ear.
“Hi, Daddy, what’s up?” she asked, putting a smile into her voice.
“Just checking in on my girl. Your mother wanted to know what you want us to bring for dinner Thursday.”
“Oh, the salad, the cranberry sauce, the mashed potatoes and gravy...desserts.”
“So everything?”
“No, not everything. I can do the turkey.”
“You?” Her father sounded skeptical. She didn’t really blame him. “You’re going to cook the turkey?”
Ruthie had said her father could work magic with a Big Green Egg. Might as well let him cook the turkey. It would impress the heck out of her parents.
“Yes, we’ll handle the turkey.”
“We?” her father repeated just as Erick slid the glass deck door open and stepped inside the house. She looked at him and mouthed, “Help,” at him.
“Who is it?” Erick whispered.
Clover muted the phone quickly.
“Dad. I accidentally said ‘we’ would cook the turkey.”
“We can cook the turkey,” he said.
“What do I tell Dad?”
“Let me talk to him,” Erick said.
“What?”
“Just let me talk to him.”
“Okay, if you insist.” Clover unmuted the call. “Dad?”
“Where’d you go?” her father asked.
“Sorry. The phone cut out for a second. You know I live in the middle of nowhere. Here. Erick wants to talk to you.”
“Who is Erick?”
Erick took the phone from her hand and put it to his ear.
“Mr. Greene?” he said, and Clover tensed into a tight vibrating bundle of nerves. “Yeah, this is Erick, Clover’s boyfriend. I hear I get to meet you all on Thursday.”
Erick paused and winked at her.
“Nice to talk to you, too, sir,” Erick said. “No, Clover was kidding. We can handle all the food unless you or your wife have something special you want to bring... The turkey? Yeah, we’re cooking the turkey, too. What do you think? Fifteen-pounder enough for everyone?”
Erick tucked the phone against his shoulder and with his free hands he reached for her bathrobe cord. She swatted his hands away but that didn’t deter him from putting his hands on her waist and pulling her to him. Clover leaned against him, her arms around his back, and listened to her father chattering at Erick.
“Well, we got seven kids coming but only three of them are old enough to put much of a dent in the turkey. Fifteen should be plenty unless you all want to eat leftovers for a week,” her father said.
“I better make some extra,” Erick said. “My daughter will kill me if I don’t. She’s a vegetarian all year except between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.”
“You have a girl, too?’