For Blood or Money
25. Thanksgiving
THANKSGIVING DAY DAWNED DREARY and gray like every other November day in Seattle. I woke up feeling pleasantly well. I did an assessment of all my vital signs to make sure I was alive. After dinner with Riley Wednesday night, I came home and went soundly to sleep in my bed instead of my chair. This morning my heart rate was normal, I had no headache, even my back didn’t hurt, and I could take deep even breaths without gasping. As Methuselah said, “I feel like I’m ninety again.”
I was relaxing with the morning newspaper and a bit of Sibelius on the stereo when the phone rang.
“Mr. Hamar,” the woman on the other end said, “I hope I’m not bothering you too early in the morning, but you said you wanted to know. Oh. This is Wanda Martin. Billie had heart surgery early this morning. She is in intensive care now, but the doctors say it was successful.”
“Wanda, that’s wonderful,” I exclaimed. I was so afraid that it was going to be bad news that my breath must have sounded like an explosion. “I’m so happy,” I continued. “You must be exhausted. Is Billie awake yet?” I looked at the clock. It was after ten, but I had no idea what “early in the morning” meant.
“She’s awake, but pretty groggy,” Wanda said. “The first thing she said was tell Mr. Hamar. You’ve had a big impact on her, and she’s been talking about becoming a private investigator when she grows up.” When she grows up. I thought about it. The real victory was that she would grow up.
“Tell Billie that I will come see her soon,” I said. “And congratulations! It’s truly wonderful news.”
I hung up and sat in my chair thinking. I’d had a long leisurely morning and was still in my robe. I got up, got dressed, and called a cab.
I arrived at the hospital a little before noon and went to the IC Unit to see if I could look in on Billie. Her mother came out to meet me and begged a nurse to let me in to see her daughter. After a quick phone consultation with Doc Roberts, she approved a five-minute visit.
Five minutes isn’t much, even when you are visiting a ten-year-old. But I left that room filled with hope and confidence. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hamar,” she said as I was leaving. “Your heart is trying to find its way to you.” How true, in so many ways.
I glanced at my watch. It was nearly 12:30.
I called Riley. She was just leaving to pick me up for Thanksgiving Dinner at the Swedish American Center in Ballard. I could hear her gasp when I said I was at the hospital and quickly explained that I was visiting a friend and to please swing by there and pick me up instead of at my apartment. She arrived about fifteen minutes later.
I must have been looking pretty fit because she relaxed visibly when I got in the car.
“You had me worried for a minute there,” she said as we pulled away. “Is everything okay?”
“It is,” I smiled. I told her about my original encounter with Billie and the issues surrounding her wait for a new heart. I omitted the part about setting up a trust fund for her, but Riley looked at me a little strangely when I said an anonymous donor had come to the rescue. I’m sure she was associating it with Simon’s dispersal of funds. She was kind enough not to pursue the idea out loud.
“Well, I have a bit of news, too,” she said. “I got a call last night from Cinnamon. She invited me to the girls’ night holiday party at the condo Saturday night. Apparently they are closed to men for that night.”
“Do you really think it’s a good idea to go?” I asked. “You know they are recruiting.”
“That’s their problem,” she answered confidently. “I just want to see inside again. Besides, I have a feeling there is a clue there that a man’s eyes might not notice, being so filled with female beauty.” I let that pass in silence. If she thought I hadn’t noticed the security cameras she was wrong. But knowing Riley like I was beginning to know her, she was probably thinking about removing some evidence that I couldn’t approve of. Better I kept my mouth shut.
We got to the cultural center and found parking. I was amazed that my euphoria was holding on and that I had no trouble making the block-long walk from our parking spot to the doors. Riley wanted to drop me off, but I told her I wasn’t giving her the opportunity to escape. We would walk in together. She took my arm as we walked to the doors, but I couldn’t tell if it was for her security or mine.
It made no difference when we walked in. Chaos reigned. Our coats and hats were hung on a rack and we were ushered into the milling throng. In one corner of the room a television had been set up and a fuzzy picture of the Thanksgiving Day Parade was being broadcast for a crowd of older men and children.
I introduced Riley to old friends. Several spoke to her in Swedish. I leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“Just smile and say ‘thank you’,” I said.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“I have no idea. I don’t speak Swedish.” We shared the laugh, but whenever anyone said anything to her in Swedish, she smiled and said “thank you.”
“Dag!” said matronly Mrs. Seafeld. “Did you bring knäckerbröd?”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Seafeld. I completely forgot it. I left it on my table,” I said, picturing the neat package sitting next to the door as I left to catch a cab this morning.
“It’s okay, Dag,” she beamed. “You know we always have plenty. And I see you brought a feast for the eyes with you instead. No wonder you forgot the crackers!”
I glanced over at Riley and was surprised that she was actually blushing under Mrs. Seafeld’s happy gaze.
“It’s only fair.” I said. “Mrs. Seafeld this is my partner Deb Riley. Deb, if you want to taste the best risgrynsgrot ever made, the one you want will be on the table today made by Mrs. Seafeld.”
Mrs. Seafeld said something in Swedish, to which Riley bobbed and said “thank you”. I’m not sure what she said, but she went away happy.
By the time the meal was served, we had circulated among many of the hundred or so gathered for the huge feast and had sampled appetizers from pickled herring and smoked salmon to gravlax and bulla. Riley had a cup of coffee and I leaned a little closer to her than strictly necessary in order to smell the delicious brew. I was on the program. No caffeine, easy on the fats and salt. For me it was going to be a thin Thanksgiving.
“Is everything made of fish?” Riley asked at one point.
“No,” I said, “but I’d avoid that particular coffee cake if I were you.”
“It’s not…” she said looking at me.
“Oh, but it is,” I smiled.
After Reverend Olson had said a blessing, we were shepherded into the food line and handed huge paper plates and plastic flatware. The first thing scooped onto our waiting dishes was pasta followed by a generous helping of meatballs in gravy. Onto the same plate went potato sausage, boiled potatoes, rutabagas, and lentil salad with radishes. French cut green beans with slivered almonds and bits of bacon were nudged into a corner, and last we were handed a small plate holding a jiggling green mass with orange flecks.
“What is that?” Riley asked, wiggling it on her plate.
“Lime Jello with shredded carrots,” I answered. “No one can ever figure out if it’s dessert, salad, or vegetable, so they put it on a plate by itself.”
She looked at the multi-colored mass on her plate as we sat and started eating.
“Dag, I missed the turkey,” she said.
“Didn’t miss it,” I said. “It’s missing. It’s not that we don’t like turkey for Thanksgiving, but everyone has special dishes that they always bring and turkey just gets left out. We can get some at the deli tomorrow if you’d like.” She looked at me with an expression of complete disbelief, but settled in to her meal with a hearty appetite and good humor.
I ate lightly, even though my plate was filled. I had to avoid the real fatty things, but I had my fill of salads, fish, and bread. After dishes were cleared, the risgrynsgrot was brought around in little dishes. It is a rice pudding in cream that is one of Sweden’s most popular holiday dishes. I had been good up to this point, but I wasn’t going to miss that. At a signal when everyone had been served, we lifted our spoons.
Riley sampled the dish and smiled broadly.
“It’s good,” she said. She took another big bite, looked curiously at me and said, “Oh, it’s got almonds in it too.” This time, I looked curiously at her and looked around the room to see if Mrs. Seafeld was watching me. She was. Cagey old woman. I began tapping my fork against my water glass. Soon everyone was joining me and I stood.
“Friends,” I said in the ensuing silence. “For the past eight months I have had the privilege of working with a young woman of exceptional talent, brains, and beauty. She is the best partner that anyone in my business could possibly ask for, and she has extended her help to me while I’ve been battling this heart thing. She runs errands, drives me to work, and walks my dog. If she weren’t my employee, you would think she was my wife.” Everyone laughed, but Riley was blushing again. “And now, the fates have bestowed upon her the risgrynsgrot almond.” Everyone applauded and cheered. Riley had no idea what was going on. I pulled her to her feet. “Deb Riley,” I said, “there is only one almond in the risgrynsgrot and you got it. That means that you get your wish today. Any wish you want, all you have to do is think of it while you chew that almond and it is yours. Ladies and Gentlemen, the risgrynsgrot Queen!” I turned her to face everyone as they applauded. “Be careful what you wish for,” I said quietly to Riley. “Sometimes they come true.”
We sat back down and finished our pudding, then the tables were folded up and the chairs all moved to the sides of the room. Then Tore, Inga, and Sven set up with their fiddles and piano and started playing lively folk tunes. It didn’t take long before people were up dancing, some traditional dances, and some just having fun with the music. I tried to show Riley one of the dances, but my breath, for all it was better today, was still not good enough to keep up with dancing. Fortunately, there were many other boys there who were all too happy to have her company. I watched and chatted with old friends while the music played and the dancing continued.
I was getting a little tired by the time we packed up and left, at nearly six.
“Do you mind if we put off the movie until tomorrow?” I asked. “I’m pretty tired right now.”
Riley drove to my apartment and jumped out to help me. I’d made it to the sidewalk as quickly as she made it to me. “Do you need me to help you upstairs, Dag?” she asked.
“No. I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little tired. Thank you for joining me for Thanksgiving, though.”
“Oh Dag!” she said, flinging her arms around my neck. “Thank you for the best day ever.” She kissed me. It was brief and accompanied by a hug that nearly broke my bones. As quickly as it was begun she was back in her car waving to me as I made my way to the front door. I waved back.
Yes, it was a very good day.
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