Summary:
Nick & Carter Holiday #20
Thursday, November 27, 1947
It's Thanksgiving and Nick is cooking a veritable feast!
Roast turkey, sausage stuffing, mashed potatoes, an assortment of vegetables, and even Nick's first attempt at an apple pie are all on the menu.
Nick and Carter have been dating for just over three months and it's their first holiday together.
It's also an opportunity for Nick to introduce Carter to all his friends.
However...
Jeffery is out of town... Mack is in one of his moods... Janet isn't returning Nick's phone calls...
Oh, well...
At least Mike is available to join Carter and Henry for dinner at Nick's new apartment on Jones Street.
There's certainly plenty of food!
So, won't you join in on all the food, the fun, and the festivities?
What can go wrong when two new lovers bring their old flames to dinner and everyone gets a chance to meet?
More turkey, anyone?
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is the twentieth in a series of short stories and novellas all centered around specific holidays.
Each story is a vignette that stands on its own and takes place from the 1920s to 2008.
Original Review November 2022:
Yet another winner in the Nick and Carter Holiday series. I'm really loving this novella/short story series as it hits so many holidays not spoken of nearly enough in literature of any genre but especially LGBT stories. I do have to say that of all the shorts in this collection I've read, Thanksgiving, 1947 probably left me with the most blanks/gaps in character references and relationship elements having not read the original Nick and Carter series. Were these gaps wide enough to take away enjoying? Not at all. I was never lost, if anything it just furthered the steps up on my TBR list for the originals. Hopefully in 2023 the clock will allow me to jump into them.
Not going to spoil anything(like you didn't know that was coming) but once again a glimpse into the couple's early days together is lovely done and definitely leaves a smile on your face. I will say that two points that really stood out for me was Nick listening to The Guiding Light on the radio and him making sausage stuffing. My parents bought me a cassette of an episode of Fibber McGee & Molly for my 10th birthday and I fell in love with it and have collected hundreds of hours of Old Radio Shows over the years, even got a subscription to Sirius XM just to listen to the old radio shows network in the car so including listening to Guiding Light was a welcomed moment. As for the sausage stuffing? That's the only kind of stuffing we've ever had in our family and yet it is so rarely used in fiction. Honestly there are so many odd recipes out there for stuffing/dressing that are used more that I personally wouldn't want to even touch let alone taste so Nick going old school(and yes I know it's set in 1947 so of course it's going to be old school/old fashioned) for stuffing was another welcomed touch.
550 Jones Street, Apartment 3-C
San Francisco, Cal.
Thursday, November 27, 1947
Just before 11 in the morning
Nick was listening to a conversation between Ned and Julie as they discussed the possibility of having a baby. The Guiding Light was on the radio.
"It ain't worth it, Julie," was his only comment as she began to tell Ned she was worried about how her mother would feel.
He was peeling and scoring a pound of Brussels sprouts in the kitchen when he heard someone knock on the door. Drying his wet hands on the towel resting on his shoulder, he walked through the living room, stopping to switch off the R.C.A. table radio.
He then opened the door to reveal Mike Robertson, his best friend and first lover, standing there with a couple of grocery bags in his arms.
"What's that?" asked Nick.
Mike looked into one of the bags. "The makings of fruit salad."
Nick rolled his eyes and sighed. "I thought I told you to make the stuff before you came over."
Being 6'5" and a cop, Mike ignored Nick and pushed his way inside. "I'm gonna make it here. I don't have a bowl to put it all in."
Shutting the door, Nick replied, "Well, neither do I. That's why I wanted you to make it before you came over."
Mike put the bags down on the dining table that was just outside the kitchen and then turned to take a look at the place. "So, this is your new home, huh?"
"Yeah. Whaddaya think?"
Crossing his arms, Mike nodded and offered Nick a friendly smile. "I like it. How much is the rent?"
"The landlord's a real ass, but I pay him eighty bucks a month."
"Eighty! You're being robbed." Mike walked over and got close. Looking down, he said, "You're a rotten landlord, Nick. You outta give the poor sucker who lives here a break. I wouldn't pay sixty-five bucks for a dump like this." He kissed Nick on the forehead and then made his way to the bay window. "And all you get is a view of Jones Street and that fleabag hotel across the street."
"Well, whatcha gonna do? Want some coffee?"
"Sounds good."
Nick walked into the kitchen, grabbed a cup from the little shelf on the wall, and poured some Joe out of the electric percolator that was sitting on top of the icebox.
"Fancy," said Mike as he took the cup from Nick.
"What?"
"All new furniture, from the looks of things. New stove, new icebox, and an electric percolator." He took a sip. "Must be nice to be the wealthiest guy in town. Not only do you own the building, you get all the newest appliances."
"There's an opening here if you want it."
"Nah. I like my place South of the Slot."
"Which I've never seen the inside of," said Nick as he went back to peeling and scoring his mound of Brussels sprouts.
"So, what's on the menu? Somethin' smells good."
"Before I tell you, don't forget what I said."
Mike put his fingers to his mouth and made a motion that looked like he was turning a key. "My lips are sealed. As far as I'm concerned, you're just a Navy vet who's an orderly at City Hospital who dumps out bedpans for a living." He grinned a little. "I promise not to mention you could buy City Hospital several times over if it ever caught your fancy."
"Mike..."
Holding up his hands in a motion of surrender. "Don't worry. I won't say a word." He took a sip of his coffee. "Now, what smells so good?"
"That's the turkey. Twelve pounds. I put it in the oven at 8:30. It should be ready by noon."
"What time are we eatin'?"
"As soon as Carter gets here, which should be about 12:45 or so. He gets off at noon and then he'll take a quick shower and then they'll head over. They only live a few blocks away."
Mike leaned against the doorframe. "They?"
"I told you. He lives with his ex-boyfriend, Henry. He's coming, too."
"So that makes four of us."
Nick nodded and finished with last of the sprouts. He put them all in the colander and then ran the water so he could rinse them off.
"What about Jeffery?"
"He's down in L.A. for the holiday weekend. Some guy he met."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. The guy—I think his name is Ralph." Nick thought for a moment. "Or maybe Ralph is the other one. This one, maybe, is Robert. Anyway, Ralph and/or Robert lives in Hollywood and works for Metro, according to Jeffery." He turned off the water and then looked over at Mike. "They met when the cops raided La Vie Parisian right before Halloween. Jeffery got his charges dropped along with all the others who were arrested."
Frowning (an act that turned his otherwise handsome face into something closer to the monster in Frankenstein), Mike crossed his arms. "Yeah. I managed to miss that one. But I did help Jeffery out as much as I could."
"He told me. How's your promotion to lieutenant coming along?"
Mike shrugged. "It could be next week, next month, next year... Who knows?"
He started smiling again and Nick melted just a little, like he had when they first met in the summer of '39.
"But La Vie seems to be a good place for love to bloom."
Nick laughed. "Yeah. Worked for Carter and me."
"What about Janet? Is she coming?"
"I think she's mad at me although I don't know why. I called to invite her, but she never answered."
"How's she doing?"
"Fine, as far as I know." Nick didn't really want to talk about his sister, to be honest. He hoped Mike got the hint.
After looking at the floor for a long moment, Mike turned and walked over to the table. "You have something I can use? These apples and bananas and fruit and say aren't gonna cut and peel themselves."
Nick pulled open a drawer and grabbed a knife. Then he stopped. "Well, wait a minute."
"What?" asked Mike as he unloaded smaller sacks out of the larger bags.
"Lemme think."
"Don't blow a fuse there."
"Ha, ha." Nick looked at the stove and then at all the things on the counter. "So, I've got deviled eggs that I made this morning. A pickle and olive tray that I'll put together after the turkey comes out of the oven. Then there's the stuffing that's cooking with the turkey along with come sliced carrots."
"What kind of stuffing?"
"Sausage." Nick realized he was still holding the knife, so he put it on the counter.
"Where from?"
"A new market I like. Kessler's, down Geary between Hyde and Larkin. Why?"
"Just curious. Now that you're a free man, I thought maybe you might have gone to whoever that gal who cooks for your old man might go to."
Nick snorted. "I'm not gonna get anywhere close to that big pile of rocks up on Nob Hill just for groceries and meat. And what, exactly, do you mean by me being a free man?"
"Free of Jeffery."
Nick sighed. "Yeah. I still feel a little bit bad about all that."
"Don't. I wish I would've never let him convince me to track you down at the Mark Hopkins last summer like I did."
"You seemed pretty convinced we should stay together when you tackled me to the floor that morning."
Mike rolled his eyes and glanced at the stove. "So, turkey, stuffing, carrots. What else?" "Mashed potatoes, Brussels sprouts, creamed broccoli au gratin, and, of course, bread and butter."
"Not oleo?"
"You know I hate that stuff."
Mike laughed. "I do. What about dessert?"
Reaching behind the percolator, Nick pulled out a towel-covered tin tray. "I tried my hand at making an apple pie."
Mike jumped up and wandered over to inspect the finished product. He lifted the towel. "That looks almost too good to eat." He stared at Nick with his electric blue eyes. "Why didn't you ever make me a pie?"
"In that kitchen?" Nick put the pie back. "There was barely enough room to make a pot of beans."
"True," said Mike, sounding a little wistful.
"You miss those days?" asked Nick.
"Sometimes."
Looking up at his friend, Nick quietly asked, "You're gonna be nice to Carter, right?"
Mike pressed his lips together as he nodded. "I'll try."
Getting up on his toes, Nick kissed the big man on the cheek. "Thanks."
With a resigned sigh, Mike replied, "You're welcome."
Nick Williams Mystery Series
In 1953, the richest homosexual in San Francisco is a private investigator.
Nick Williams lives in a modest bungalow with his fireman husband, a sweet fellow from Georgia by the name of Carter Jones.
Nick's gem of a secretary, Marnie Wilson, is worried that Nick isn't working enough. She knits a lot.
Jeffrey Klein, Esquire, is Nick's friend and lawyer. He represents the guys and gals who get caught in police raids in the Tenderloin.
Lt. Mike Robertson is Nick's first love and best friend. He's a good guy who's one hell of a cop.
The Unexpected Heiress is where their stories begin. Read along and fall in love with the City where cable cars climb halfway to the stars.
Long before the Summer of Love, pride parades down Market Street, and the fight for marriage equality, San Francisco was all about the Red Scare, F.B.I. investigations, yellow journalism run amok, and the ladies who play mahjong over tea.
Nick & Carter Holiday Series
Welcome to a year of holidays with Nick Williams and Carter Jones!
This is a series of short stories with each centered around a specific holiday.
From New Year's Day to Boxing Day, each story stands on its own and might occur in any year from the early 1920s to the first decade of the 21st Century.
Saturday Series Spotlights
Frank W Butterfield
Frank W. Butterfield is the Amazon best-selling author of 89 (and counting) self-published novels, novellas, and short stories. Born and raised in Lubbock, Texas, he has traveled all over the US and Canada and now makes his home in Daytona Beach, Florida. His first attempt at writing at the age of nine with a ball-point pen and a notepad was a failure. Forty years later, he tried again and hasn't stopped since.
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