I find Thanksgiving to be a very depressing time of year.  I know that I have things to be thankful for, but being a widow in my forties, I find that long weekend to be painful. 

The first year after my husband died, I did my best to hide myself away.  I had no family to celebrate with and I shunned the invitations of friends and colleagues.  I locked myself in the house with as much untraditional junk food as I could.  By Thursday night I found myself puking my guts up, the result of my indulgence.  Not very becoming for an English professor.  I spend the rest of my weekend sipping soup and crying.

This year I resolved to do something positive.  I thought at first of preparing a meal for some of my students who weren’t going home for the holiday.  Then I considered helping out at one of the local food kitchens.  The first might be too family-oriented and bring back painful memories of the past.  The latter just seemed to be too clinical and cold.  I needed to make up my mind soon.  Thanksgiving was just a little over a week away.

A knock on my half-open office door made me look up.  There stood Linda Kelly, a junior Art History major, and one of my favorite students.  She’d taken four of my classes over the past three years and was still debating whether she should add English on as double major. 

“Come on in, Linda,” I said gesturing her to a chair.

“Thanks.  I took a chance that you’d still be here.”

“Seems like I always am.  What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was wondering…you know the Student/Faculty Frolic is a couple of weeks away.”

“Umm-hmm,” I nodded.  The annual charity show always took place the week of finals.  It was a chance for both students and staff to let go and have a good time.    In the past I had been an active participant, performing in several skits, but since the deaths of my husband and child almost two years ago, I hadn’t felt up to seeing the show, let alone being a part of it.

“I know I the past you’ve participated and I was wondering if you’d consider…well, if you’d consider singing a duet with me this year.”

My first reaction was to say no, but I let myself think about it first.  It had been a long time since I had been really active on campus.  Maybe it was time.  “What song were you thinking of?”

“You mean you’d consider it?”  Linda looked incredulous.

“Depends on the song.”

“Well I was thinking of something fun.  Maybe “Brush Up Your Shakespeare” from Kiss Me Kate or “Bosom Buddies” from Mame.  We could make some minor modifications to each song to make it pertain to some of your classes.”

“Either song has potential.”

“The first rehearsal is next Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving.  It’s a lousy time, I know.  If you’re busy we could skip that one.”

“What time?”

“Five.”

“Fine.  I’ll leave it up to you to decide which song you want to do.  I’ll just need a copy with your revisions.”

“You’ll really do it?”

“Why not?”

“Great!” She jumped out of the chair.  “I’ll get working on the song right away.  Thanks so much.”  She started to bound out of the office, when someone else just happened to wander in and she smacked right into him.

“Geez, I’m sorry…” Linda began.

“My fault.  This is Jennifer Lyndon‘s office?”

“James?  Is that you?”  I recognized the voice and stood to see better.

“It’s me,” he replied, coming in. 

I stood to give him a hug.  “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you out on a date, and I promise my dad won’t mind this time around.”

I smiled.  When James McCartney and I had met that summer, his famous father had erroneously thought that I romantic inclinations toward his only son.  Never mind the fact that I was closer in age to Paul than James.  He was protective of his offspring, and hence I got off to a rocky start with the famous Paul McCartney.  But over time (and with the help of James and his sister Stella) we had all become friends.  I had even spent some time at their family beach house on Long Island. 

“What did you have in mind?”  I teased.  And then noticing that Linda was still standing in the doorway, I said, “I’m sorry, Linda.  Let me introduce you to a family friend, James McCartney.  James, this is one of my students, Linda Kelly.”

“Hi,” he said reaching out and taking her hand.  “Sorry about running into you.”

“My fault, really,” she said, blushing.  “I guess I’d better be going, Jennifer.  Don’t forget, next Wednesday at 5.”

“No!’  James exclaimed.  “Not Wednesday.  You can’t be busy Wednesday.”

“Sorry, James,” I said. “Linda got here first.”

“Oh, please,’ he said, turning to her.  “You’ve got to let me have her next Wednesday.  My sister will have my head if I don’t.”

“Next Wednesday isn’t that important,” Linda reassured me.

“Of course it is.  I’m sorry, James.”

“Oh please, Jen.  You’ve got to come.  Stel will kill me if you don’t.”

“James I’ve already made arrangements with Linda here.  What’s so all important that I have to be there?  And why didn’t Stella just call me herself?”

“She’s in Paris working.  I’m her ‘representative.’  We haven’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

“James, it hasn’t been that long.  Why, I was out to the house just in September.”

“Over two months ago.”

“Well it’s not as if you are always around either.  As a matter of fact, what are you doing here?  Other than trying to get me to some affair next week?”

“Dad…” he began.  Then he realized that Linda was still standing there, “My father had business in New York City and I tagged along.  We’ll be here through next weekend.  Stella will be flying over next week to attend the concert at Carnegie Hall and we both wanted you to come.”

“Concert?” 

“Yes.”  Once again turning to Linda, he explained, “My father…he’s a composer, and some of his classical works are going to be performed next Wednesday evening at Carnegie Hall.”  He turned back to me,  “He’s got a date!  And Stel’s not too thrilled.”

Not again, I thought to myself.  Part of the trouble when I had first met the McCartney clan was that Paul had been seriously seeing a woman much younger than himself whom his daughters could not stand.  It seemed to be Stella’s tactic to get me in the middle of it all.  As if I could change the mind of the headstrong Mr. McCartney.

“You should go,” Linda urged.  “We can meet after Thanksgiving and go over the song.  It’ll give me more time to come up with some clever lyrics.”

“I don’t like to break a commitment.”

“Oh, but it wasn’t really a commitment,” Linda protested.  “Half the acts aren’t going to be there for the first rehearsal.  You know that.  You should go to Carnegie Hall.”

“Thank you, Linda,” James said graciously. 

“All right, I’ll go,” I agreed reluctantly.  “But I want more information on all of this.”

“That’s just what I hoped you’d say. How about if I take you out to dinner and Ill tell you all about it?”  James was grinning from ear to ear.

“Not tonight,” I said firmly.  “I’ve got a ton of work that I need to finish up.  Give me a call this weekend.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I mean it.  I’m not going unless you tell me exactly what I’m up against.”

“I will, I will.  So, Linda, what are you doing for dinner this evening.”

She turned an even deeper shade of red that she previously was.  “I…well…I really had no plans…”

“Great.  Would you like to have dinner with me?” he said, smiling.  Clearly the McCartney charm was in the genes.  I could see how easily Linda could be swept off her feet.

“Well…I…I…” Linda stumbled over her words.

“It’s all right, Linda,” I said.  “I can vouch for him.  Just don’t keep her out too late, James.  She’s got an early class with me tomorrow morning.”

“I won’t, I promise.”  He gave me a wink and took Linda by the elbow, leading her down the hallway and out of the building.

*  *  *

It was a typical Friday night for me.  I had changed into casual clothes and settled down to watch a movie while I had dinner.  I was just washing my dishes when I heard a knock on the front door. At 9 at night it was unusual for anyone to drop in unannounced.  I turned on the outside light and to my surprise there stood Paul.

“Hi there,” I said opening the door for him.  “What are you doing here?”

“Who is Linda Kelly?” he demanded, stepping inside without further preliminaries.

“She’s a student of mine.  And it’s so nice to see you again too.  Thank you for calling and letting me know you’d be coming.  It was so very considerate of you. Would you like to come in and have a cup of coffee or glass of wine?”

“Look,” he said in a gruff tone that I’d become accustomed to, “James has been out twice with this girl already and we’ve only been in the States for four days.  I know that he’s planning on spending the weekend with her, and he wants her to come to this thing at Carnegie Hall on Wednesday night as his date.  Just who have you been setting my son up with?”

Everyone else in the world got to see the renowned McCartney charm, but it was never the case with me.  From the moment I had met him, Paul had been gruff and suspicious of me.  I thought I’d overcome that.  The last time he’d spent time with me had been at his beach house, but his daughter had been there as well.  Maybe that was why he’d been on his best behavior.  Now that we were alone, he had me on the defensive.

“I haven’t been setting your son up with anyone.  Now why don’t you just come on in and calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“Yeah, right.”  I led him into the living room.  “Sit down and let’s talk.”

“Fine,” he said, plopping himself down into a chair.  “Tell me about Linda Kelly.”

I sat down on the sofa across from him.  “She’s an excellent student.  She’s taken several of my classes and never gotten below a B on anything.”

“I didn’t ask for a list of her scholastic achievements.”

“Well, what do you want from me, Paul?  She’s a student.  A nice girl.  She happened to be in my office when your son came by.  He was the one who asked her out, not the other way around.  That I can vouch for.”

“He just jumps into these things, you know.  I don’t know what I’m going to do with that boy.”

“You’re going to let him be.  He’s not a kid any more, you know.”

“I know, I know.”  Wearily he rubbed his eyes.  “It’s just hard to let go.  James is the only one who is still at home with me.”

“And who is babysitting who?”

“I suppose you’re right there too.  I suppose he told you I have a date for this affair on Wednesday night.”

“He mentioned it.”

“He’s not thrilled.  And Stella…”

“Let me guess,” I interjected.

“I don’t have to tell you, do I?  Aren’t I entitled to a little companionship?  I hate going to these things alone.”

“But you’ll have James and Stella with you.”

“You know what I mean.  Sometimes they make me feel…they make me feel like I’m cheating on their mother.  I love Linda.  I always will.  But I feel like I need to continue on with my life.  I’ll never forget her, I’ll never stop loving her.  They know that.”

“But it doesn’t make it any easier for them, seeing you with another woman.”

“I can’t win, can I?”

“Probably not,” I said with a chuckle.  “Now can’t I get you something to drink? I have wine open.  Or I could make coffee.”

“I’m actually more of a tea person, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“None at all,” I said standing up to head for the kitchen,  “though I have to warn you, I’m not a tea drinker at all.  So whatever I’ve got, it’s for guests only.  How do you take it?”

“Oh dear,” He stood as well.  “Maybe we’d better pass on the tea.  You probably make it using bags.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“My dear, you have a great deal to learn about tea.”

“No offense, but I have other things on my mind than learning about tea.  How about some wine?  Would you like to check the vintage first to make sure it’s acceptable?”

“No,” he said making himself comfortable at my kitchen table.  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

I poured him a glass and watched him as he sipped it.  “Are you sure it’s to your taste?”

“It’s fine.  So this Linda Kelly, she’s an okay girl?”

“As okay as they come.   And if James does ask her to the concert, you’ll get to judge for yourself.”

“And if I think you’re wrong, I can take it out on you then.”

“I’m sure you will.”  Sometimes I honestly felt like I was a punching bag for him.  He always came at me swinging verbal jabs, which I had learned to steel myself against. 

“Am I really that bad?” he asked.

“Honestly?  Yes.  You don’t have to like me, but you could at least be a bit more polite at times.”

“But I do like you,” he protested.  “It’s just…”

“Just what?” I threw back at him. 

“I don’t know.  I always seem to get off on the wrong foot with you.  It’s not intentional.”

“Ummm hmmm.”  I shook my head.

“Now don’t go off an try and psychoanalyze me or some such thing.”

“Why do you always assume the worst about me?”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t you?”

“All right, all right.  Enough of all this.  Let’s change the subject.”

“Fine.”  I didn’t want to get into an argument with him.  Actually, although I had always admired him (and had a crush on him when I was much younger), I really didn’t enjoy his company all that much.  Being around him alone made me uneasy for some reason.  I would have rather climbed into a hot tub with a good book, as had been my plan before he showed up.

“So how’s your sex life?”

“Paul!”

“What?  I’m just making conversation here.”

“I don’t have…I’m not seeing anyone.  And even if I was, I don’t think I’d be discussing it with you.”

“Why not?  You know everything about mine.”

“I most certainly do not! “

“Well, it seems that way sometimes.  I thought my kids shared all the intimate details of my life with you.”

“I don’t know where you got that idea.”

“They talk about you a lot. You’re all they talk about”

I rolled my eyes.  “Somehow I doubt that, Paul.  Maybe you need to tune into them more often.”

“I am in tune with them!  They know I’m there when they need them.  They don’t have to come running to you all the time.”

“Come running to me?  Paul, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t be so coy.   The minute we arrived in the States James was out to see you.  I know you talk to Stella on the phone all the time.  You’re closer to her than I am.”

“You mean in distance, don’t you?  Or did you mean something else?”

“You know perfectly well what I meant!  Stella spends most of her time in the city; you live less than an hour away.  I’m all the way across the Atlantic.”

“You could move to the city, you know.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he said, face set in a harsh frown.

“Or the beach house.”

“No.”

“Listen, Paul, you don’t have to be jealous of the relationship I have with James and Stella.  It’s not as close as you assume it is.”

“I just don’t like…never mind.”  He took a gulp of wine and banged the glass down on the table.  “I should be going.”

“Now, don’t go off half-cocked.”

“I’m not going off half-cocked.”  He stood up.

I sighed.  “Sure you’re not.  Believe it or not, I haven’t talked to Stella for nearly a month, and James even longer.  I’m not the surrogate mother to them that you seem to think I am.”

“When in hell did I say that?”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“Listen, why don’t you stick to being an English professor and not a bloody psychiatrist.”

“I’m not trying…”  I reached out to him.

“The hell you aren’t.”  He strode out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

*   *   *

“I need to talk to you,” Linda said, as she rushed into my office and shut the door behind her.

“All right.”  I had only come in moments ago myself and hadn’t even had the chance to take off my coat.  I shrugged out of it and went to hang it up.  “Sit down.  I have about 20 minutes before my first class.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”  She paced back and forth, ignoring my invitation for a seat.

“Tell you what?” 

“About Paul McCartney!”

“What about him?”

“That he’s James’ son…I mean James’ is his son.  Oh God, I’m a mess.”

“Sit,” I said pulling up a chair for her and physically pushing her down.  “Didn’t James mention it?”

“Not until I was practically face to face with his father on Sunday afternoon.  It was awful!  I didn’t know what to say!  Or what to do.  I just stood there like an idiot.  I wanted to die.  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, I assumed James did.  But what’s done is done.  I’m sure James didn’t mean to embarrass you in any way.  And now that you’ve had your awkward moment, you can move forward.”

“Move forward?  You’re kidding.  There’s no way I can go to Carnegie Hall on Wednesday night.  I’d just die.”

“That’s your choice, Linda.  Have you told James?”

“Well, not yet.  I was kind of hoping that you…”

“Oh no, you can leave me out of this.  You’re an adult.  If you decide to cancel your date, it’s up to you to call him.”

“I don’t know if I can.  I mean…I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but…I just…”

“Look, Linda, either call him and break your date or don’t.  He will be hurt, but he’ll be hurt even more if you put it off.”

“I don’t want to…I like him, a lot, but it’s just his father…”

“…is intimidating.  Yes, I know that all too well.”

“You feel that way too?”

“I do my best not to, but it’s not easy.  You’ve just got to remember that Paul McCartney may be a rock ‘n’ roll legend, but he’s also just flesh and blood.”

“You’re right,” she said reluctantly.  “It’s just hard to remember that when you’re face to face with him.  But you’ll be there to support me, right?”

“Actually, as it turns out, I might not be able to go.”

“What?!  But you have to!  I need your support.”

“You’ll be fine on your own.”

“Hey, wait a minute, you’re not backing out because you’re intimidated by him.”

“Intimidated isn’t exactly the word I’d use.  Let’s just say that James’ father and I don’t always get along.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.  Paul McCartney has got to be the most charming man I’ve ever met.”

“Intimidating, charming…Paul McCartney is many things, Linda.  I think it might be more comfortable for everyone if I didn’t go.”

“That’s the biggest cop-out I’ve ever heard.  You’ve got to go.  I want you to go.  James wants you to go.  Stella wants you to go.”

“Stella?  Have you met her yet?”

“Don’t get off the topic.  And yes, I have met her.  She’s actually loaning me one of her creations to wear.”

“She’s lending you something that she designed and you’re thinking of not going?”

“Off topic, off topic.  Please, you’ve got to go.  James is sending a car for me.  We could go together.”

“He’s sending a car for you and you’re thinking of not going?”

“I’m going, I’m going.  And so are you.”

“All right,” I reluctantly agreed.  “Now get out of here.  I have a class I have to teach.”

*     *     *

I never felt more like a third wheel than I did that Wednesday night in the back of the limo.  James picked up Linda first and then me.  Seeing the two of them together holding hands made me feel old and out of place.  Even though they both did their best to make me feel as though we were a friendly trio, it was obvious that they were a couple.  The hand holding, the bodies turned ever so slightly towards each other – it definitely had the makings of young love.  We made small talk during the ride into the city, but it was painfully obvious to me that the two of them would have much preferred to be alone.

It was a relief to get out of the car when we pulled up to the back entrance of Carnegie Hall.  Being a gentleman, James offered each of us an arm and escorted us up to the box where we would be seated.

“Jennifer!” Stella stood up as we entered the box and embraced me.  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Thank you.  That’s a beautiful dress.  Did you make it?”

“Yes.  I made Linda’s too.”

“I know.  You both look lovely.”

“Don’t they make a smashing couple?” she whispered in my ear.

I nodded, smiling.

“Come, sit by me.  You do know my sister Mary, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I replied.  “We met briefly at her photography exhibition.  Where are your husband and your son?”

“I’m afraid I left them back in England,” Mary confessed.  “I’m flying back tomorrow myself.”

“So what have you been up to?” Stella asked curiously.

“Nothing much.  Just teaching.  I hear you’ve been busy in Paris.”

“Yes.  But I do need to spend more time here in the States.  I’ve got a shop in the city opening soon.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“It’s true.  And I expect you to be at the opening.  I’ve already roped Mary into flying back over when it happens, and you’re only a short drive away.  I’ll hear no excuses from you.”

“I promise not to make any,” I assured her.

“I wish this thing would get underway.” Mary glanced at her watch.  “I’m really beat.”

“You know how Dad like to make an entrance,” Stella reminded her.  “Besides, it’s taken hours for that bimbo to be poured into that sad excuse for a dress.”

“Stella!” Mary exclaimed.

“Oh Mary, you haven’t met her.  She’s worse than the last one.  This one doesn’t even have the brains to be manipulative.  And she’s got a chest…my God, you could use her breasts as flotation devices.”

“Stella!’ Mary was trying to be stern, but she started to giggle, as did I.

The situation was not helped by the fact that just moments later, Paul and the woman entered the box to thunderous applause.  Paul waved to the crowd while his companion just smiled like the cat who ate the canary.  Stella hadn’t been overstating things when she said she had been poured into her dress.  It was a tight red dress, so short that it barely covered the top of her legs.  The majority of the material was barely covering her breasts.  I thought if she took one deep breath, the whole thing would fall to pieces.

As the crowd settled down, Paul embraced his family, one by one.  He gave Linda an embrace as well.  She turned a bit red, but for the most part managed to stay composed.  When he got to me, he gave me a cursory glance and then went to sit with his companion as the lights dimmed.

The concert was about 90 minutes long.  I knew it was coming to and end when Paul left the box, headed, I assumed, down to the stage to take a bow.  When the lights came up, there was thunderous applause.  No matter what I thought of Paul, he did compose beautiful music.

After Paul had left the stage, James led us all to a room where a private party is about to begin.  On our walk there, the woman in red tapped me on the shoulder.

“We haven’t met.  I’m Rachel, Paul’s girlfriend.  Are you a relative?”

“No, I’m just a friend.”

“Of Paul’s?  I thought I had met most of his close friends.”

“I’m not particularly a close friend of Paul’s.  I’m more a general friend of the family.  I’m Jennifer.”  I extended my hand.

“Oh, so you’re no one important.”  With that, she ignored my outstretched hand and moved away from me.

“Lovely,” said Mary coming up from behind.  “I don’t think she’ll win any awards for manners in the near future.”

“Or tact,” I added.

“I love my dad.  And I don’t expect him to be a hermit just because Mum died, but I wish he’d be a bit more discriminating in his choice of…well, companionship.”

“There’s not much you can do about it.”

“I know that.  I just wish Stella knew.  She can’t stand most of his dates and is vocal about it.  It doesn’t help at all.  In fact, it probably hurts.”

“Probably does.  But on the other hand you can’t really blame her.  She doesn’t want your father to get hurt. Or taken for a ride because he’s a celebrity.”

“That’s already happened,” Mary confided.

“What did that woman have to say to you?”  Stella asked coming up alongside of me.

“Nothing important,” I assured her.

“How could it be?”

“Stella, you need to be a little more lenient with Dad’s companions.”

“Oh please, Mary!”

“Your sister’s right,” I interjected.  Towards the back of the room a bar had been set up.  “Why don’t we all have a drink and relax.”

“Good idea,” Mary echoed.

“All right, I’ll let it go,” Stella acquiesced.

The three of us settled in with some drinks while canvassing the room.  I wasn’t surprised to see some very famous names in the music industry in the room.  Both Stella and Mary took the time to give me the who’s who.  Though mostly executives, there were musicians that I admired, such as Elvis Costello, but I was hesitant to go up to anyone and introduce myself or be introduced.

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet George Martin?” Stella asked for the second time.

“Positive,” I said, knowing that I was slightly red with embarrassment.  “Now Mary, you said you were flying back to England tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.  I have a one thirty flight out of Newark.”

“So your family won’t have time for a Thanksgiving get-together.”

“We don’t really do that anyway, being English,” Mary said.

“When Mom was alive,” Stella interjected, “we did on occasion celebrate Thanksgiving.  It was really quite nice. But we haven’t for years.  What are your plans, Jennifer?”

“I don’t really have any,” I confessed.  “I’d thought of inviting some students over for a meal, but I never got around to it.”

“I guess Linda is too far from home to celebrate with her family?” Mary asked.

“I suppose, I hadn’t asked.”  I felt even guiltier for that.  She looked so at ease on James’ arm as they came towards us.

“Why aren’t you circulating?” James asked.

“We were just having some girl talk, little brother,” Stella injected.  He rolled his eyes.

“Linda,” I interrupted, “are many girls in your dorm staying on campus over the holiday?”

“No,” she said.  “I think there’s only about eight or so of us.  My floor is pretty quiet.  It’s just me and Cindy Johnston left, and she’s all the way down at the other end.  Of course her family is only in Connecticut, but I don’t think they get along very well.”

A sudden brainstorm hit.  “How would you all like to come to my house tomorrow for a Thanksgiving brunch?  I’m not far from Newark Airport, Mary.  It would take less than 20 minutes to get there.”

“That sounds lovely,” Mary said.  “But isn’t this a bit short notice for you?”

“Well, I never said it was going to be a fancy brunch.  I’m not going to have a 20 pound turkey roasting, but then again with you all being vegetarians…I’ll just throw something simple together.  Linda, when you get back tonight, why don’t you invite Cindy and anyone else you can round up.”

“You mean that?”

“Sure.  Come around 10.  Earlier if you’d like, or later.  Does that sound all right to everyone?”

“Sounds fine to me,” another, unfamiliar voice interrupted.

I turned to find a handsome young man standing there.  I didn’t know who he was, but he was the spitting image of George Harrison circa 1965.  “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“We haven’t, I’m Dhani Harrison.  I was just coming over to say hello to the McCartney clan, and I overheard your plans.”

“Well, Dhani Harrison, “ I said, being bold, “I’m Jennifer Lyndon, not one of the McCartney clan here.  And you are more than welcome to come to brunch tomorrow morning.  But only if you promise to come in casual clothes.  No suits, no ties.”

“Sounds great.  We’re flying back to London tomorrow too, but not until later in the day”

“You know, Dhani,” Stella interjected, “you’ve been so busy finagling an invite to brunch that you haven’t even said hello to the rest of us.”

“Sorry,” he said blushing slightly.  “Hi Mary, Stella, James and…”

“I’m Linda.”

“And she’s with me,” James said.

“I suppose that means I don’t get to give her a hug hello, then,” Dhani said, eyes twinkling.

“Exactly.”

“But that doesn’t exclude us,” Mary said, embracing him.  “How’s your dad?”

“He’s all right.  He’s around here somewhere.”

“I didn’t see you during the concert,” Stella said, giving him a hug as well.  “Did Dad know you were coming?  We should have gotten a bigger box.”

“It was kind of a last minute thing,” Dhani confided.  “We didn’t know how long we’d be here.”

“Well, here you are,” said an attractive woman.  I assumed she was Dhani’s mother.

“Surrounded by women, as usual” said her companion.  There was no doubt who Dhani’s father was.  Even with a gray beard and mustache, there was no mistaking George Harrison.  “It’s good to see you all again.”

“This is Jennifer Lyndon, Dad, Mom,” Dhani said informally introducing me.  “And Linda.  But she’s James’ date, so hands off, dad.”

“Nice to meet you ladies,” George said.

“We’ve been invited to Jennifer’s for brunch tomorrow,” Dhani said.

“It was kind of impromptu,” I said, making excuses.  “Nothing elaborate.  You’re all welcome to come, but you probably have other plans, and I’m all the way out in New Jersey.”

“But near the airport,” Stella interjected. 

“Professor Lyndon is really just doing it for me and the other students who couldn’t make it home for the holiday,” Linda pointed out.

“Professor?” Olivia questioned.

“I teach English at a local college.  Besides being James’ date for the evening, Linda is also one of my best students.”

“So at what time would you like us tomorrow?” George asked.

“Any time,” I said, shocked that he actually seemed interested.  “Ten o’clock or so, I guess.  It’s really all quite casual.”

“I’m sure it will be lovely,” Olivia reassured me.  “Is there anything you’d like us to bring?”

I shook my head.  “I don’t think so.  I…”  Then I remembered the last time Paul had been out to the house.  “Well, if you are tea drinkers, you might want to bring your own.  According to Paul I’m miserable at that kind of thing.”

“Did I hear my name being taken in vain?” Paul asked, swooping down upon us.  I noticed he was without his companion.

“Jennifer was just confessing that she’s a typical American when it comes to tea,” George told him.

“That she is,” Paul confirmed.  “Offered me Lipton tea bags. And George, you’d better keep your eye on your son. Jennifer likes them young.”  I felt the blush rise in my cheeks.

“So do you,” observed George.  Paul looked uncomfortable but said nothing to his friend.

“Jennifer has invited us to brunch tomorrow,” Olivia said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Has she now?  Well, Jennifer’s known for trying to adopt celebrities and their relatives.”

“Actually,” Dhani jumped in, “I sort of invited myself and my family.”

“It’s mostly for us students who are unable to get home for the long weekend.” Linda jumped to my defense.

“I thought it might be nice for some of my students and friends to gather together to relax,” I said.  “You and your friend Rachel are welcome too.”

“I’m afraid Rachel and I have already made other plans,” Paul said.

“That’s what we figured,” Stella said icily. “That’s why the three of us leapt at the opportunity to go to Jennifer’s.”

“Did you now?” Paul’s voice was cold.

“Jennifer, would you mind writing down directions to your home now?” George asked, changing the subject.  “It’s been a long day for me, and I’m feeling a bit tired.”

“Of course,” I said, grateful for his intervention.  “If I’m going to be cooking tomorrow morning, I need to be going as well. “  I took a deep breath.  “It was a pleasure seeing you again, Paul.”

*   *    *

I’ve been told that I work well under pressure.  With less than 12 hours preparation, I managed to throw together a nice little party.  I was up early and the first person in the supermarket that morning.  Since I had no idea how many people who actually would be showing up, I tried to buy more than I thought I would need.   By nine the house was filled with the smells of scrambled eggs and fresh coffee.

Linda was the first to arrive.  Crammed into her tiny Honda Accord were 4 other girls.  “Happy Thanksgiving,” she greeted me.  “These were the only ones I could round up on such short notice.  This is Adrian Miller, Cindy Johnston and Carol Sommers.  You already know Janice Clifton.”

“Yes, and welcome.  Come in.”

“It’s awfully nice of you to have us,” Janice said. 

“I wish I had thought of it sooner,” I confessed.  “But better late than never, I suppose.”

“You have a lovely home Professor Lyndon,” said Carol.

“Thank you.  Here, let me take your coats.  Go on into the dining room.  The food’s in there.  Help yourself to anything and everything.”

I barely had time hang their coats in the front closet before the doorbell rang again.

“Here we are again!”  Stella said with a grin.  “And we’ve brought you a little something.”  She handed me a bag.

“Thank you.”  I peered inside and discovered two bottle of champagne.  “How did you manage to get this so early in the morning?”

“It was actually late at night,” Mary confessed.

“Having the McCartney name does pay off sometimes,” added Stella.  “Besides, what’s a brunch without mimosas?”

“Stella, if you will take this back to the kitchen, I’ll take your coats.  Linda is already here with some of her friends.  I’ve got everything spread out on the dining room table, so feel free to dig in.”

“Thank you,” Mary said.  “You know, this is really very nice of you.  Especially on such short notice.”

“Well, the buffet shows just how short notice it was.  Where’s your brother?”

“He had to talk to Dad about something.  He’s coming.”

The bell rang again and I opened the door to find the Harrison family standing on my front steps.

“Welcome,” I said, opening the door with an armful of coats. 

“Well, it seems as though you are quite busy,” said Olivia.  “Can I give you a hand?”

“No, just your coats.  I’m so glad that you could come.”  I opened the hall closet and started to hang up the jackets.  “If you just follow the noise, you’ll find the rest of the guests and the food. Just introduce yourselves and dig in.”

“I brought the tea,” George said holding up a little bag.  “You do have a tea pot, don’t you?”

“Umm…” I thought as I hung up the last of the coats.  “I think so.”

“Good, then I can teach you how to make a proper cup.”

“I don’t know about that,” I confessed.

“Don’t worry,” Olivia said,  “you’re in very capable hands.  He taught me.”

“Right.  Now just show me to your kitchen,” George said.

I hadn’t imagined spending Thanksgiving in the kitchen with George Harrison learning how to make a proper pot of tea, but that’s what I ended up doing.  I worried about my guests, but they all seemed to be having a good time, some standing around in the dining room, others were sitting in the living room eating and watching the parade on TV. 

“…Now we just let it steep for a few minutes and we’ll have a pretty good cup of tea.”

“I’ll try to remember all that.  I’m really not a tea person.  I have more of a coffee personality.”

“Harried and rushing about?”

I smiled.  “That tends to be me.”

“Tea is made for relaxing.  There’s nothing like sitting in the garden with a good cup of tea.”

The doorbell rang once again and I started to rise.  “I’ll get it for you!” Stella called out.  I sat back down.

“How’s the tea coming?” Olivia asked, popping her head into the kitchen.

“The master has it all under control,” George replied, with a smile that radiated with love for her.

“Let me get a cup for you,” I offered.  “Do you take lemon or milk?”

“Lemon?” George said incredulously, as if I had suggested poison. 

“I’m American,” I said by way of explanation.  “Plenty of Americans take tea with lemon.”

“Indeed you are,” said Paul, appearing in the doorway.  Startled by his unexpected appearance, I dropped the mug I had pulled out of the cabinet and it shattered on the counter.

“Ah, you’ve still got it Paul,” observed George.  He turned to me.  “He’s been making girls drop things since I first met him.”

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said, trying to regain my composure as I picked up the broken shards.

“My plans changed,” he said easily.  “James talked me into coming along. I’m not imposing, am I?”

“Of course not.”  My voice sounded calm, even if I wasn’t.  I tossed the broken bits of mug into the garbage can.  “George made tea.  Would you like some?”

“Now, there’s a man who knows how to make a pot of tea.”

“I’ll take that as a yes?”  He nodded, and I went back to the cabinet to get two more mugs.

“OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!”  I dropped both mugs as a loud shriek broke the relative silence.

“Not a good a day to be a mug,” George observed.

“It’s you! It’s both of you!  I thought it was him, but now…It’s you isn’t it?  You’re, you’re…” Linda’s friend Janice was standing in the doorway.

“Yes, luv,” Paul began oozing charm.

“That’s right,” George chimed in.  “I’m Paul McCartney and he’s George Harrison.”

“Are you sure about that?” questioned Paul.  “I thought it was the other way round.”

“Could be,” George deadpanned.

Instead of picking up the shattered mugs, I went over to Janice and put my hands on her shoulders.  “Calm down, Janice.”

“I don’t believe it!  I just don’t believe it!”

“Cup of tea?” George offered.

“Sit!” I said, pulling her over to a kitchen chair.

“What is going on in here?”  Carol looked in.

“Just some shattered mugs and hyperventilating woman,” replied Paul.

“Everything under control?” she asked, obviously not knowing or caring that she was standing less than five feet away from two former Beatles.  Janice nodded. 

I picked up the rest of the shattered mugs from the floor.  “Every thing is fine.”

“Maybe I’d better handle the mugs,” Paul said striding past me and reaching into the still open cabinet.  “You don’t seem to be doing too well today.”  He grabbed two mugs and then paused.  “Would you like a cup too, Janice?”

Her eyes widened when he addressed her by name.  Then she nodded.

Paul pulled another mug out and then set the three down on the table.  He then proceeded to fill them with tea.  He handed one mug to George and pushed the other in Janice’s direction.  “You have any sugar?”

“In the dining room, with the rest of the food,” I answered.

“Shall we?” he asked George.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied.  “Do you have everything under control in here, Jennifer?”

“We’ll be fine,” I assured him.

And surprisingly it was.  Janice calmed down.  It turned into a lovely morning, full of good food and conversation.  Of course, it might have been enhanced by the pitchers full of mimosas that Stella made.

Before I knew it noon had come and gone and the Harrisons needed to leave, as did Mary.

“It was a lovely brunch,” Olivia said honestly, as she put on her coat.

“I’m glad you could come.  And I appreciate the lesson in tea making.”

“I’ll expect you to make me a perfect cup next time,” George warned.

“Now just because I’m a professor, don’t expect too much of me,” I teased back.  “What time is your flight?”

“2:15,” answered Olivia.

“British Airways?” asked Mary.

“Yes,” Olivia replied.  “Don’t tell me…”

“Look like we’re on the same flight.”

“Wouldn’t that be a kicker for the press?” I asked.

“Hopefully,” George began, “there won’t be a fuss.  It is a holiday.  And with it being just Mary, maybe they won’t catch on.”

“I guess that means I’m going to the airport alone,” Mary said.  “I’d best go say my good-byes to Dad then.”

I hugged all the Harrisons good-bye, feeling as if we had been friends for a long time.  George had given me an open invitation to visit them if I was ever in England, and, even better, a promise to call when they were planning their next trip to their Hawaiian retreat.

They were no sooner out the door than James and Linda, along with the rest of the girls, said their good-byes.

“Well,” I said heading back to the dining room where my remaining three guests were huddled, “I guess that ends the party.”

“Yeah,” Mary said with a sad tone.  “I have a flight to catch.  Stella will drive me, and James and Dad can head back to the city.”

“Um…James already left with Linda and the other girls.”

“No problem,” Paul said.  “I can drive myself back to the city.”

“Problem.” I said.  “He took the car.”

“Not a problem,” Paul asserted.  “I can go with the girls.  It will be a tight fit, but we can manage.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said Mary.  “With the Harrisons already at the airport, there’s the chance of some press.  If you show up with me, it will be a Beatles reunion.”

Stella interrupted.  “So, Dad just stays here with Jennifer, I drive you to the airport and then come back and pick him up.  Simple.”

“Ummm…” began Paul, obviously trying to think of a way out of being left alone with me.  “I could just call a service and…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dad,” Stella said.  “I won’t be gone for more than an hour.  It would take that long for a service to get here.”

“And because it’s a holiday,” Mary chimed in, “you’ll be lucky if you can get anyone that quickly.”  She gave him a hug and a kiss.  “We’ve got to be off.  I’ll see you at Christmas.  I love you.”

“Love you too.”  He held her tight.  “You be safe now.”

“Of course.  Come on, Stel, it’s getting late.”  They walked down the driveway and got into Stella’s car.

And so Paul and I were left alone.

“Well,” I said, after a rather long pregnant pause.  “Unless you’re still hungry, I guess I could start cleaning up.”

“Would you like me to help?” he asked tentatively.

“It’s not necessary.”

“I’d like to,” he offered.

“Then I’d love the help.”

We worked in silence, clearing all the dishes and bringing them into the kitchen.  I began to wrap the leftovers, while Paul, without asking, began to fill up the sink.  He rolled up his sleeves and began washing the dishes.  I finished putting the food away and began to dry the clean ones.  We worked well together, silently and quickly.

“Thank you,” I said, as he handed me the last utensil.

“Your welcome.  Way back when Linda and I used to do this.”

“No dishwasher for the McCartneys?”

“Back when we started out in Scotland we barely had running water and electricity.”

“You really roughed it.”

“Yeah, but it never seemed all that rough.  I kind of miss it.  Just the family and the basics.  Simple.”

“Who wouldn’t miss that,” I said wistfully.

“This holiday must be hard on you.”

“Yeah.  I don’t have any family left.  To be honest, all the holidays are hard.  I have friends who invite me to their gatherings, but it just isn’t the same.”

“I know.  I’m dreading Christmas.”

“At least you have a wonderful family to share it with.”

“I do.  But I still wake up and there’s no one lying next to me.  And Christmas just isn’t the same without Linda around.  The kids are wonderful, but there’s a hole.”

I knew all too well about the hole.  Not only was half of my bed empty, but there were none of those wonderful shrieks of joy early Christmas morning.  My son had just discovered the thrill of Santa Claus when he died.  And now he was gone too. I felt the tears start to well in my eyes.  I tried to take some deep breaths to keep calm.

“Oh Jen, I’m sorry.”  He put his arms around me.  “Don’t cry.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince him or myself.  I could see that he was a bit choked up as well.

“That’s what I keep telling myself too.  Sometimes it works.  Sometimes…”

“You completely fall apart?”  I sniffed.

“Exactly.”  He took a deep breath. “ If the press knew what I mess I was, they’d have a field day.  I pretty much stayed out of the limelight for a year, but it’s not easy.  I miss Linda so much sometimes that I ache.  You must feel that too.”

“I do.  I try to keep busy, to keep my mind on other things, but…”

“I know.  Just when you think you’ve got it licked, that it’s all under control…”

“Whoosh!  It comes back and hits you again.  I used to love the holidays and now…”

“They suck,” he said plainly.

“They suck big time!”

He started to laugh.  “You have a way with words.” 

His laughter was infectious.  I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, giggling.  “I guess I do.  And this is stupid.  I’ve had a wonderful day with friends, why am I ruining it?   This is supposed to be a day to be thankful for what we have, not to mourn what once was.”

“Well, I can tell you one person who is extremely thankful today – my son.  He’s definitely hung up on that student of yours.”

“I guess I shouldn’t ask what’s going to happen when the two of you go back to England.”

“That’s no for me to worry about.  After all he’s a grown man, as you pointed out.”

“He’s a good man.  His parents must have taught him well.”

“I’d like to think we did.  But I thought we weren’t going to go back into the past.”

“Through the mists of time?” I asked, mocking one of his catch phrases from a world tour.

“Ah, so you are a fan.”

“Never said I wasn’t.  I paid a lot of money to see you in concert.”

“I hope I was worth it.”

“The jury’s still out on that one,” I said with a grin.

Smiling, he pulled out his wallet.  “So how much do I owe you?”

“I think the statue of limitations has run out.  You and the band put on a good show.”

“We had fun.  Linda always…”

“Oh no!  No more of that, we’ll just get ourselves in a funk again.”

“So what do you suggest we do then?”

“Come on,” I said, taking his hand.  “Let’s go see what’s on television.  Maybe we’ll luck out and find something silly and mindless.”

“Sounds good to me.”

*   *   *

And that’s how Stella found us an hour or so later, the two of us curled up on the sofa watching reruns of Saturday Night Live.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy,” she teased.

“Come on then, Stel, sit down and watch with us,” Paul urged.

“You don’t have to hurry back to the city?” she asked.

“What for?”

“I don’t know.  I’d be perfectly happy just lazing around here.  If Jennifer doesn’t mind, that is.”

“You don’t mind, do you, Jen?” Paul asked.

“No.  As a matter of fact I can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of the day.”

“Thanksgiving turning out all right after all?” Paul asked.

“Turning out better than I had expected.  Maybe I’ll just have to have you over every Thanksgiving.”

“And just maybe we’ll take you up on that.  Might make a nice new tradition.”

“They have to start somewhere, don’t they Paul?”

“Seems like this is a good a place to start them as anywhere else.”

As the three of us sat there, watching and laughing, I hoped that this would become some sort of tradition.  But, at least for now, the Thanksgiving holiday that I had been dreading had truly become a day that I was thankful for.