Christmas Scene – Templet’s Tasty Tails

Merry Christmas! I have a chapter treat for you to enjoy that includes a crawfish-peeling demonstration. Spend Christmas with Booker and Erika. In this Christmas scene, feel the sparks fly as their relationship deepens.

 

Booker and Erika‘s relationship develops over several holidays. Each holiday brings them closer to the realization their meeting could have been predestined. This Christmas scene has Booker aspiring to become more than a friend to Erika.

 

Web Designer Erika Washington’s contract with her childhood best friend covers all possibilities about her pregnancy. But one unpredictable event redirects her future. As a donor-surrogate, what does one do when fate changes the plan and claims the lives of the intended parents? If you’re the selfless, strong-willed Erika Washington, you mount a defense to keep your baby.

Entrepreneur Booker Templet, owner of Templet’s Tasty Tails, secretly agrees to help his first cousin by being a donor for his baby. However, unfortunate circumstances change the course of Booker’s life. After he learns the identity of the other donor, Booker plans to be a part of his child’s life. No matter what.

Will Erika and Booker battle over custody of the baby? Will their horrible loss help them find consolation in each other’s arms? Or will fate intervene yet again?

 

 

Entire Chapter

Templet's Tasty Tails - Christmas SceneAt straight-up twelve o’clock, Booker pulled his truck in front of Erika’s merrily decorated home. He got out with a humongous teddy bear. As a luxury sedan parked behind him, he lifted three glossy bags from the back seat. Once on Erika’s porch, he rang the bell. Interested in the other arrivals, Booker looked over his shoulder. The man emerged wearing a long winter coat. He cocked the fedora on his head and assisted his nattily dressed passenger from the car.

“Cream.”

Booker looked beyond them. “Mr. Dooley.”

“Guess who’s coming to dinner?” He marched across the street holding up an elongated Christmassy gift bag. “Brought something to warm things up.”

“Just what we need for this brisk weather, Mr. Dooley.”

By this time, Mr. Dooley and Erika’s other guests surrounded him.

“Merry Christmas.” The woman greeted cheerily.

Booker returned the salutation, as did Mr. Dooley. All her companion spared was a nod. The front door opened. Erika’s appearance isolated him from the others. He had eyes only for her. Her smile broadened as she tugged the red bow on the teddy bear. “Merry Christmas, Erika.”

“Merry Christmas, Booker.” As if she remembered her manners, Erika acknowledged the others. “Merry Christmas, everyone. I’m so glad to see you.” She grinned…big, pulling him in by his handled bags.

“These are for the girls and your mother.”

“Booker, you didn’t have to do that.” She entwined her fingers in his on the handles.

“Erika,” Mr. Dooley’s voice boomed. “Merry Christmas. Look what I brought.”

Booker let him have the floor as Erika gripped the bag.

She accepted the gift and withdrew a bottle. “Oh, this is wonderful, Mr. Dooley. The wine will go great with dinner. Come in out of the cold. Mama’s in the kitchen.”

Mr. Dooley wasted no more time on talk.

“Nat, Winona, I’m glad you could come.” Erika left his side to embrace them. “Let me take your coats.”

Nat helped Winona with hers before he shed his own. “How’ve you been, Erika?”

“How’ve you been, Erika?” she mimicked him in a deep voice. “Nat, you’re among family. Loosen up.” She draped their outer garments over her arm while she shut the door. “I’m great, big brother.”

Booker’s attention gravitated to Nat. Whatever his thoughts, he seemed to have no compulsion to be friendly.

“Booker, this is my brother, Nat, and his wife, Winona.”

Nat’s attitude did not deter Booker. “Great to meet you both.” He held out his hand, waiting for Nat to do likewise. After a conspicuous pause, he did. Booker looked at Erika.

She scrunched her mouth to the side and strolled into the living room, enticing him in with a hand on his arm. “These are my sister and brother-in-law. Synthia and Randy, meet Booker, a special friend of mine.”

He liked that she called him special. The word took on a connotation of its own.

“Pleased to meet you all.” Booker accepted Randy’s gesture of a handshake. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Washington.”

She came from the kitchen with Mr. Dooley. “Merry Christmas, Booker.”

“This is from Booker, Mama.” Erika handed her the bag after she read the nametag.

“Thanks for allowing me to share this occasion with your family.”

“Booker, it’s your son’s first Christmas. Where else should you be?” Marianne shuffled the tissue in the bag. “A scarf.” She pulled it out. “It’s lovely, Booker.” As she passed him, she tapped his shoulder. “Thank you.” Then she stood before her offspring. “Look at the two of you.”

“Mother.”

“Hi, Miss Marianne.”

She hugged her son and daughter-in-law. “So formal, Nat. I’m happy to see you.”

“We delayed our trip to Paris to be here.”

“What more could a mother ask of her son at Christmastime?” Marianne’s glib retort seemed to hit home. Her son looked at his wingtip shoes. She draped the scarf around her neck. “I don’t believe you were introduced to Erika’s neighbor. This is Mr. Dooley.”

“How many kids you got, Marianne?”

“This is the lot.”

“Nice family.”

“It’s been a very long time since we were all together.” Erika hung their coats in the hall closet. Afterward, she set the wine on the kitchen table. “We’re acting like a bunch of strangers. Find a place to sit.”

Booker waited until the others settled down. Then, he moved toward an empty chair.

“Don’t you want to give Brice his present?” Erika left the room ahead of him. He leaped at the chance to see his son. When Booker entered the nursery, the girls looked up from their electronic games.

“Kay-Kay.” Erika pointed to the littlest one. “Keisha. This is Booker, Brice’s daddy.”

“Hello, girls.”

“Hello,” Keisha said.

“That’s a pretty teddy,” Kay-Kay complimented. Then she looked at him and Brice. Her childish voice alerted. “They have the same color.”

Booker set the teddy bear in the rocking chair, and Erika covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes widened.

“Brice and his daddy have on the same color blue shirts.”

Laughing, Booker commented, “Would you look at that.”

“Kay-Kay’s right.” Erika sighed. “Here. Booker brought you a present.”

Screams of joy bounded off the walls.

“What do you tell him?”

“Thank you, Mr. Booker.”

“Good girls.” Erika shoved the folded rollaway bed out of his path. “Take your bags to your parents.”

Booker chuckled. “I know where your mind was.”

“Guilty.”

He caught her hand. “I have something for you, too.”

“Mine first.” Erika disappeared.

Now at the crib, Booker felt a surge of paternal devotion.

“For you.” She reappeared…happier.

Booker held the gift. The rush he felt whenever in Erika’s company attacked him. He tore off the colorful paper. In his hand was a picture of him and Brice. He rubbed the surface of the glass. The inscription on the frame was the clincher. “To My Dad.”

“You like?”

“I love,” he modified her question. To reinforce his point, Booker moved in close to Erika. Her lips parted, slightly. As he leaned down, her eyes held a hungry look he intended to satisfy. His kiss was passionate. “Thank you. Yours is in the truck.”

“What is it?” Erika’s voice was throaty.

“Well…” Booker had to put space between them in order to breathe. He traced the writing on the frame. “You said you’d never had boiled crawfish this time of year.”

“I did.” Erika clapped her hands. “You brought me some?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I brought the makings to give you a crawfish boil, if you’d like.”

“Would I like?” She threw her arms around his neck. As quickly, she hopped back. “The uniqueness of your gift is so…so romantic, Booker. I like that you didn’t go for glitz.”

“Because, like yours, it’s from my heart, Erika.” Booker stroked her cheek. “Romantic, huh?”

Brice kicked and thrashed in his bed.

“Is it normal for him to be so active at such a young age?”

“Look at me, Booker.” Tenderness haloed Erika’s features. “He’s perfectly normal, new dad. If you’d been cramped up for nine months, you’d rejoice, too.”

He touched Brice’s stomach and looked at Erika.

“I’m going to get things started. Spend some alone time with your son.”

Emboldened, Booker held Brice in his palms. The breadth of his hands showed how much Brice had grown. “You’re heavier, too, little man.” The more Booker talked, the more Brice’s eyes seemed to transfix on his face. Shifting his position caused Brice to blink. “That’s it.”

Every so often, laughter seeped into the nursery. Snatches of adult conversation followed.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Nat’s tone was forceful.

The low-voiced conversation to which Booker was privy sounded personal.

“What do you mean?”

Nat confronted Erika somewhere near the hallway. They had no idea he stood beside the nursery door.

“It was one thing to consent to that mindboggling request made of you,” Nat argued, “yet, quite another to get caught up and saddled with the child.”

“Stop it, Nat,” Erika demanded. “That’s my son you’re talking about. A nephew you’ve yet to meet.”

Nat countered, “What are you doing with your life, Erika?”

“Living it. My way!”

“I raised you to demand more than mediocrity.”

“You are my brother, Nathaniel Washington, not my father. I have no regrets about the choices I’ve made in my life.”

“What about your involvement with him?”

“Lower your voice,” Erika blasted in a whispered tone. “What about it?”

Booker let those words entice him closer to the door.

“I’m not a bigot—”

“Let me stop you right there. When a sentence begins like that, I’ve found, usually, the opposite is true.”

“He’s white, Erika.”

“Not a problem for me, Nat.”

“But, a farmer?”

“Synthia was right. Your narrow-minded views outstink an onion.”

“I saw the way he looked at you. At least, maintain relationships with someone on your level.”

“So, according to you,” Erika’s voice was low and profound, “I should base my relationships on the number of zeroes in a person’s bank account.”

“He’s a farmer,” he repeated.

“Stop being a snob, Nat. It’s none of your concern, but Booker’s is a lucrative business.”

“Can he really afford a woman like you?”

Erika’s laugh was strident. “A woman like me?”

“Someone of your caliber needs a certain kind of man,” Nat amended. “I don’t think—”

“Look around you. I’m doing fine for…my…self. I’m not looking for anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“I invited my family here to share in this new chapter of my life. I don’t care what Booker does for a living. He’s a great guy.” Their voices moved farther away. “Regardless of his profession,” she snapped, “he’s a wonderful father. I like him. He likes me. So what you think about my association with Booker is irrelevant. The…end.”

Booker peeped out. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. However, he was glad he did.

Uplifted, he sat in the rocker, wallowing in contentment, counting each of Brice’s little fingers. His son granted his approval by not crying. Booker situated Brice in the crook of his arm, and Brice’s head came to rest against Booker’s chest, right over his heart.

“Dinner’s ready to serve.” Erika smiled at him from the doorway.

With reluctance, he walked to the crib.

“No. Bring him, too. He has to meet his uncle. Besides, I want him close to me.”

“I like the sound of that.” He followed her into the living room. Furniture had been rearranged. A cloth-draped table with folding chairs hogged the room. On top was Christmas dinnerware set for ten. “What a transformation.”

Marianne put the turkey at the head of the table while Synthia placed the side dishes along the middle. When Erika came for Brice, Booker let him go. Proudly, she showed him off to Nat and Winona, who took turns holding him. As Erika waited, and Booker watched, Nat’s glare tapered off. Not sure what to make of it, Booker dismissed the thought when Erika returned to his side.

“He’ll be comfortable in his carriage.” She situated Brice and smiled at all gathered in her home. “I’m here.” Erika sat at the head. “Booker, you’re here on my right. Mama, facing me on the other end. Everyone else, pick your seats.”

Booker looked around the table. For sure, this was Erika’s function. He liked that she took charge but not in a heavy-handed way. Lovingly, he gazed at her, feeling she understood and respected him. Honestly, the way he felt, Booker believed Erika was his soul mate destined by providence. What a wonderful way to spend his son’s first Christmas, with his son’s wonderful mother, too.

 

 

Merry Christmas from Erika and Booker.

 

If you love holidays, each one spent with Booker and Erika will be joyous!

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Watch my crawfish-peeling demonstration.

Do you love crawfish?

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