"Really?" I said. "What did it taste like?"

"Orange?" Spring cocked her head when she answered. Then the parade came back on and she disappeared to the other side of the couch.

"You got out of that one," Billie said. "Look in there."

Opening the container, I saw the puffy white stuff. "Mashed potatoes? I love those things."

"I remember."

"Remember?"

"Yeah. You had that look on your face when you tried the ones I brought for Spring."

The memory of those potatoes even cold came happily back. I was surprised that Billie had noticed.

"It's just carbs and starch," she said.

"Yeah, but it's the healthy starch."

"There is no healthy starch."

"I'm spinning. Speaking of which, did you get gravy?"

"Eww, but yes."

"Yum. You don't like gravy?"

"It's the fat," she said.

"You're so skinny. Can't you eat fat for one meal?"

"Thanks. No." She continued unpacking the dessert. "I work hard for this body." She held up her coffee. "Skim latte."

Whatever she did to stay in shape, it worked. "You look great, Billie. You always look great."

She stopped for a moment to smile. "Still spinning?"

Spring hollered, "What's that?" as a giant balloon passed by on the television.

"That's Underdog," I said.

"What?"

"He's a super dog thing who has this ring... "

"Spring," Billie said, "he's a cartoon."

"Oh."

If Billie didn't feel at ease around children, she seemed to be on Spring's wavelength. I would be sure not to mention it. She removed a cheesecake from the bag.

I reached out for it. "You didn't."

She waved it past me, and then pulled it away."Cheesecake. Also fattening."

"More yummy fat grams. All this food could spoil a guy."

"For once a year, you won't get too spoiled." She handed me the cheesecake to set on the table and we were caught between the oven and the countertop, separated by only twelve inches of cream cheese. I tried to back away but couldn't go anywhere. With a smile, she returned to the food.

It had started to snow sometime during the morning, but I only noticed it now. "Spring, it's snowing."

I didn't need to mention it twice. Spring ran to the window to confirm that I wasn't kidding. I did the same thing at her age. Still do. "Hey, Billie, did you used to run to the window when you heard it was snowing?"

"Still do." She followed Spring to the window. Pressing her hand to the glass, she left a temporary imprint of heat. Spring did the same, leaving her small imprint underneath.

Then Harry Connick Jr.'s rendition of "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve" came on during a commercial. I watched the condensation from the hand prints mix and run down the glass. What would I be doing New Year's Eve? I could see Laurel standing there, champagne flute in hand and one leg over her head pressed into the top of the doorway. And then her image faded. I didn't want to be with Laurel. I wanted to be with Billie and Spring and a bag of microwave popcorn.

It was during this brief mental break that I decided to put the turkey on a serving plate before we put it in the refrigerator. As a single guy, I didn't have the most complete set of serving ware, but I had a carving board with a sterling silver head and tail of a turkey on each side. I had received it as a gift from a client a few years ago, but had never used it for obvious reasons: potato chips didn't require a carving board. I removed the board, dusted the top and was transferring the turkey to the platter. It turned out to be hotter than I had expected. In my haste, I tried to slide the turkey onto the platter, slipped, and shot it across the table. I fell to the floor.

"Am I bleeding?" I said, staring up at the ceiling.

Billie hovered above me. "I don't see any. Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm not sure...how's the turkey?"

Spring pointed to the only plant I had in my dining area, a Fishhook Cactus, which now resembled a turkey pinata. "Look! It's full of needles!"

"Can we save it?" With that, the bird slipped from the cactus itself and into the potting soil.

"Doesn't look good," Billie said.

"Couldn't we wash it or something?"

"I think we're talking major bacteria potential at this point."

Billie helped me get up. "What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry, we have everything but the main course, and although it cost at least one of my bonuses, you can make it up to me later. What if I fix something?"

"We don't have much," I hinted, knowing what filled the cupboards. Besides, Billie was no Betty Stewart. "We'll go out." I'd been planning to do that with Spring anyway.

"Spring is not going to a restaurant on Thanksgiving. Let me see," Billie said, checking every place we stored food. Then, she checked the refrigerator. "Not much here, plenty of microbrews and takeout leftovers. What's the green stuff in the bag?"

"Old tofu."

"Better get rid of that, huh? This is what you have to feed Spring?"

"No, this is not what I feed Spring. We're a little low on groceries right now. I was planning to go shopping tomorrow."

Billie put on a face of mock at least I think it was mock exasperation and pointed to the living room. "Out," she said. "Spring, take D to the couch, and both of you out of the kitchen. Go watch the rest of the parade. Go!"

Billie clanked around the kitchen for a while, and by the time she announced lunch, it was still well before noon. Seeing how I ruined the turkey, I wasn't going to raise any objections.

"Brunch!" Billie said, presenting the table with a flourish.

Spring frowned. "It isn't lunchtime."

"I didn't say lunch. I said brunch."

"Brunch?" Spring looked at me.

"That's what she said."

"What's brunch?"

"It's a meal you eat between breakfast and lunch. Now get your little behinds in here."

Spring looked appalled. On the table was a pizza. "I hate pizza."

Billie seemed stunned. "You do?"

"Uh huh."

"This isn't normal icky pizza. This is a special pizza I made just for you."

Spring peeked at it and made another face. "Macaroni?"

"This is gourmet macaroni on the cheese pizza I found in the freezer. "

"Is that thing still in there? Jim brought it over sometime last year."

Billie shrugged. "It looked all right."

Billie pointed to the artificial orange-colored pasta and warned. "But we only have one, Dylan, so you can have some, but you can't handle it. And there's lots of other stuff like potatoes and corn and stuffing. Well, you two can eat the stuffing. I'll have extra carrots or something. And we have cheesecake for dessert...unless Dylan decides to hurl it."

"Don't say hurl. Bad omen." I looked at the pizza. "You made this? I'll alert the media."

So for our Thanksgiving brunch, we ate leftover macaroni and cheese on a frozen pizza, along with takeout carrots, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, and stuffing. Although Billie said she wouldn't eat any, I saw her take a nibble or two. On top of that, I didn't even mention the obvious fact that the pizza had to be loaded with fat. We finished it off with cheesecake and shared a bottle of sparkling white grape juice that I'd bought a couple of weeks back just in case Spring and I ever had something to celebrate. Spring drank hers from a sippy cup, of course, but since we didn't have one for Billie, I chose to go the more formal route. By noon, we were stuffed a full three hours ahead of schedule, had my grandmother made the meal. This was the first time I had ever had a big dinner at my own place.

"I want to propose a toast to the two most beautiful women I know."

"Don't forget smart," Billie said.

"And smart..."

"And funny..."

"Shut up. To the two most beautiful, smart, and funny women I know: Billie and Spring." I wondered how they would look in 30 years, knowing they would both still be beautiful.

With a couple of clinks and a dull thud from Spring's cup, we touched glasses and drank our first toast together. Spring slurped, then hollered for a movie. Since the Giants weren't playing, it sounded like a good idea.

"Can you keep a secret?" Spring said to Billie in her loud whisper.

Billie looked at me. "Me? Can I keep a secret?"

Confusion crossed Spring's face.

"Just say yes or no," I said. "She's stalling, Spring. It's what she does."

"Yes, I can keep a secret."

Spring leaned over and whispered something in Billie's ear. This time, I couldn't hear the little girl's quiet words.

I waited for them to share. Spring kept whispering and then Billie whispered back to her.

"Hey, aren't you going to tell me?" I said.

The two ladies looked at me like I'd just asked for insider stock information.

"It's a secret," Billie said and then leaned over to hear more. Then, they returned to watching the movie like nothing had transpired.

"What? Tell me..."

Spring shook her head.

"Billie?"

"Sorry, D-Man."

Spring patted me on the leg. "Sorry, D-Man."

Although my mind was on their shared secret, we continued looking at the television. A part of me was a little insulted at being excluded, while another part was tickled at the exchange and the fact that Billie had responded so naturally to it.

When Spring paused the DVD player and ran to the bathroom, I saw an opportunity to get in on the fun. "Okay. You can tell me now."

"Tell you what?"

"What was the secret?"

"It's still a secret whether Spring is in or out of the room."

"It can't be a real secret. She's a kid."

"A secret is a secret, D-Man. That's all there is to it."

Spring ran back into the room. "Did you tell him?"

"Of course not. It's between the ladies and this guy over here is no lady."