Mimi's Demons

Chapter 84: A Gangster Thanksgiving

 The snows finally came. Despite the excellent heating indoors, Mimi could often be found by a fireplace during her free time rather than in her room, so Duke had a pellet-fed stove installed in her room. He did so as well in the piano room and near the end of that one hallway she seemed to like so much. It wasn't the best for interior design, but he paid well enough to make it look natural.

Mimi had given him a look along with a lecture about spending too much money on your kid. It was amusing as hell because Mimi was missing the logic behind said argument other than 'it will spoil them' or 'it will make them expect too much.' It was almost not worth it to point out that Mimi could expect as much, and more. And he'd already said if she grew up to be a spoiled brat, all the better. Then he wouldn't have to share her with those who'd inevitably grow fond of her.

"That doesn't sound healthy," she said. "You aren't right in the head, are you, Papa?"

He'd laughed. Instead of answering, he'd pulled out a catalogue of dishware and pulled her onto his lap to help him choose.

On Thanksgiving, the dining hall was dressed down to the knives and Mimi's chosen dishware was set up in a neat display to rival a five-star restaurant, complete with napkins folded into turkeys. The gold silverware dazzled in the crystal chandelier, and the gold leaf rimmed dishes and bowels reflected their passing selves like a fun house in El Dorado.

As he watched his Mimi gawk at all the splendor, he tried to remember his first thanksgiving out of a soup kitchen. His father's dishware had been blue and white Chinese antiques. He'd been afraid to look at them let alone eat on them. He was happy to see that Mimi had no such compunctions. She lifted a plate to pull a face through its transparent glass at him, only to laugh at herself. Bright red, yellow, and orange leaves had been done up around her pigtails for the occasion, and they went well with the gold decorations.

Duke did all he could to enjoy the alone time he had with Mimi before the rest of their guests arrived. As much as he wanted to have a private family dinner with her, Thanksgiving dinner was a business affair for the syndicate and had been long before his father had taken control. He'd informed her of that the night before. Rather than being nervous, she'd been worried the dishware she'd chosen might not be good enough or show poorly on him. It exasperated him that even after yet another meeting with the board where she sat on his lap and doodled demons she still thought anything she did could hurt him or his work. She was his princess. In his mind, everything he had existed for her pleasure. It wasn't her who had to worry if one of their guests didn't like the plates or glasses, but the guest themselves.

When the time drew close and the doorbell began to ring, both Mimi and Duke retreated to the privacy of the kitchen. Neither had to speak a word to know they'd both be waiting until the last minute to face the crowd.

Merriot had several hired help zooming about the kitchen to help him prepare the feast, but none of them moved with the blurring grace that he did. Mimi watched his hands whirl on the finishing touches to dish after dish with jaw-dropping awe. She would have applauded had she not been afraid of distracting him. Duke watched her in turn, making a mental note to take her to a Hibachi grill sometime. She would love that.

But then the final alarm chimed. The many hands gathered their covered dishes and their gold and glass pitchers.

Mimi looked at him with quivering eyes.

He did his best to give a reassuring smile and flicked one of her curled pigtails.

"All you have to worry about," he said. "Is eating as much tasty food as you can."

He saw a flicker of exasperation, all in the slight lowering of her eyebrows, and knew she was doubting the wisdom of him being so lenient to her. But she'd see one day. He had years. And one day, if he did it right, she'd have a child of her own and would understand fully.