Taft 2012 - Jason Heller [23]
It was quite possibly the most wonderful thing he’d felt in his life.
TAFT SAT BACK from the dinner table. He was perfectly content, and the turkey couldn’t take full credit. Granted, it wasn’t exactly a turkey they’d eaten that night; as Rachel and Trevor had described it, the delicious meat they’d devoured along with their mashed potatoes and gravy and yams wasn’t a whole turkey at all, but an Fulsom TurkEase, a last-minute replacement they’d been forced to buy after the local grocery had run out of real birds.
“Really, Grandpa, we try not to eat so much processed junk,” Rachel explained as she passed the cranberries. “But sometimes, in a pinch, what else can you do?”
Abby—all three and a half feet and six years of her—piped up. “They showed us a video in school. They make this stuff with smushed turkey. The bones and everything. They make pink toothpaste out of turkey and then color it with turkey color.”
Taft looked at the forkful that hovered a mere inch from his open mouth. “Oh, really? That’s quite an imagination you have, little one! Back in my day, President Theodore Roosevelt passed the Pure Food and Drug Act. Things like that aren’t allowed to make it to market.”
Rachel glanced at Trevor and laughed.
“Did I say something funny?”
“No, Grandpa. It’s just that … things aren’t quite as clear-cut. As much as I hate to admit it, food-industry lobbyists spend millions every year making sure companies like Fulsom get to do whatever they want. I’m working on passing a bill right now that—”
“Oh no, Rachel.” Taft grinned and shoveled more of the succulent future-turkey into his mouth. “We’ll not talk politics over the Thanksgiving dinner table. Things can’t be that bad! After all, here we all are eating this wonderful meal. Let’s find something else to discuss.” He winked at Abby. “For instance, what this young lady might want for Christmas.”
Abby’s smile showed a missing tooth that only made her that much more adorable. At first he didn’t see it, but now it was evident: she was a Taft all right, from her eyes to the set of her forehead. He looked at Trevor and Rachel, and pride practically oozed from his pores.
“I’d like another Grandpa doll, please. A bigger one, so I can bring it to show-and-tell.”
“Why settle for a homunculus when you have the real thing?” He thumped his chest. “Bring me to class. I’ll be your show-and-tell.”
That set Abby off into gales of giggles. When she calmed down, she excused herself and wandered into the next room. Next to her empty seat sat Kowalczyk, eating with his head down, as if looking at no one might somehow render him invisible.
“Kowalczyk, my good man! How goes your meal? You’ve hardly said a word since you got here. Is everything well?”
Kowalczyk nodded tersely and kept eating.
Then it struck Taft: here it was, Thanksgiving Day, and Kowalczyk was stuck in a stranger’s house, far from his own family, technically on duty even as he nibbled diffidently at a pile of stuffing.
“Tell me, Kowalczyk. Have you had a chance to talk to your own family today? If you need to excuse yourself …”
Kowalczyk looked up sheepishly from his plate. “No, thank you. That’s not necessary. I don’t … well, I don’t have a family exactly. I’m not married, and my folks passed away a few years back. You’ll have to excuse me if I seem a little overwhelmed at all this family stuff.”
“Overwhelmed? Please. I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say you’re more than welcome to consider yourself an honorary Taft for the duration of the holidays. Rachel, Trevor, what say you?”
Trevor lowered his napkin. “Of course! From what I hear, you and Bill were fast friends anyway.”
“Indeed,” bellowed Taft, “the man shot me!” The table erupted in laughter. “Thank the stars Kowalczyk has lousy aim, otherwise you might be eating me right now for dinner!”
At that moment Abby’s voice came from the direction of the living room. “Grandpa,