“Say hi to the camera, sis.” Marie’s voice came cheerfully from behind the camera.
“Go away Marie.” Sally Hart waved at the offending lens with a tired smile while leaning against John Hastings. They mimed a couple that had recently arrived after a long car trip, sitting in front of the television, and watching a football game. John, as did most of the men in the house, held a beer bottle and took an occasional sip. The women were into wine coolers with colorful labels.
John placed his hand on Sally’s knee with amusement. If Sally was supposed to be a MacDonal, then she was black Irish with more of a Mediterranean look on her features.
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
The camera swung and caught Mrs. Harris as she walked out of the kitchen. “I need volunteers.”
Ian Corval slouched in his easy chair. “The last time I volunteered was in the army.”
“You’re due.” Mr. Harris nudged Ian from the chair with his foot. He, too, watched the game, but was sitting on the floor at the foot of the couch.
“Spud duty,” Ian grimaced and rose from the chair.
Guy Morelin quickly claimed the chair, but Mrs. Harris stopped Lia Denning as she made to join her supposed husband. “One more.”
“I’ll go.” Bobbi Vincent walked towards the kitchen, giving her ‘husband’ a slap on the behind as she followed Ian.
Marie followed Mrs. Harris into the kitchen, where a Thanksgiving feast was in preparation. She passed the camera over the food and made appreciative sounds.