of Papa Bolo and Mama Coco—were busy holding court at the head table lavishly decorated in white string lights and yards and yards of flower garlands. Again he tried to imagine his grandmother in such a setting, surrounded by family and friends who constantly streamed by to visit. He couldn’t do it. Family events at the chateau, with its intricately painted murals in the formal dining room, high chandeliers and gardens where not even a blade of grass was out of place, were icily civilized. Silent servants served seated guests at a long table designed to keep everyone at a distance from each other. Small talk was cool, calm and edged with poison.
As far as he knew, finger paint had never made it across the chateau’s threshold.
A group of children raced by, holding balloons and streamers and shrieking with laughter. Either he didn’t understand what a family get-together was, or one of the families—the Panuzzis or the Fourniers—was doing it wrong.
“Hey there.” Out of breath from her turn at the Electric Slide, Scout skipped over to him, holding her shoes in her hands and apparently unembarrassed to be barefoot in public. Then he noticed that many other women were also barefoot, either holding onto their shoes or ditching them entirely along the edge of the dance floor. “Sorry I abandoned you for a bit, but this crowd digs its special dances, and I couldn’t resist. I wish you’d given it a try.”
As far as he knew, no Fournier had ever done the Electric Slide. “Perhaps another time. It did look fun.” A lot of fun, actually.
Her smile made the disco ball overhead seem dim. “Oh man, it so was. You hungry?”
“I could eat.” He watched her dump her shoes in a pile by the dance floor before she grabbed his arm and hauled him in the direction of the buffet tables manned by white-jacketed caterers. “This is an exceptionally organized party for such a large gathering of a diverse group of people. Your handiwork, I presume?”
“Guilty. Papa Bolo and Mama Coco’s kids—both their biological children and their fosters—take turns putting this annual shindig together. We all chip in and somehow make it happen. And every year the guest list gets bigger.”
He looked around the crowded dance hall as they got in line for juicy slices of prime rib. “How many were invited this year?”
“Let me think… there are the five Panuzzi kids, now adults, and their spouses and children, some cousins, aunts and uncles thrown in. One of their kids wasn’t able to be here tonight—some kind of snafu with the military, or so I heard—but there are still about sixty or so blood relatives who managed to show up. Can you imagine?”
“No.” And he didn’t want to. Imagining that many Fourniers would make him vomit, he was sure of it.
“Then you have the strays. Foster kids,” she expanded when he shot her a questioning glance. “Over time, Bolo and Coco took in about a dozen or so, and several of us managed to stay in touch after we became adults. There are seven of us here, along with the friends and families we now have, so that’s almost twenty people. So, with random friends of the family thrown in, it’s close to a hundred.”
He’d been to parties where the headcount had been many times that amount, but attending those bashes were a matter of seeing and being seen—necessary networking events with insanely debauched backdrops as the settings. This gathering, however, was something so beyond his experience, he could only shake his head. “Ironic, that there are more foster children than biological, yet not nearly the number of people associated with the so-called strays, as there are with the biological children.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why it was so important I had a plus-one tonight.” As they got closer to the servers, she snagged a couple of plates and handed him one. “A lot of us who grew up in the system aren’t all that terrific at making lasting attachments.”
“What do
As far as he knew, finger paint had never made it across the chateau’s threshold.
A group of children raced by, holding balloons and streamers and shrieking with laughter. Either he didn’t understand what a family get-together was, or one of the families—the Panuzzis or the Fourniers—was doing it wrong.
“Hey there.” Out of breath from her turn at the Electric Slide, Scout skipped over to him, holding her shoes in her hands and apparently unembarrassed to be barefoot in public. Then he noticed that many other women were also barefoot, either holding onto their shoes or ditching them entirely along the edge of the dance floor. “Sorry I abandoned you for a bit, but this crowd digs its special dances, and I couldn’t resist. I wish you’d given it a try.”
As far as he knew, no Fournier had ever done the Electric Slide. “Perhaps another time. It did look fun.” A lot of fun, actually.
Her smile made the disco ball overhead seem dim. “Oh man, it so was. You hungry?”
“I could eat.” He watched her dump her shoes in a pile by the dance floor before she grabbed his arm and hauled him in the direction of the buffet tables manned by white-jacketed caterers. “This is an exceptionally organized party for such a large gathering of a diverse group of people. Your handiwork, I presume?”
“Guilty. Papa Bolo and Mama Coco’s kids—both their biological children and their fosters—take turns putting this annual shindig together. We all chip in and somehow make it happen. And every year the guest list gets bigger.”
He looked around the crowded dance hall as they got in line for juicy slices of prime rib. “How many were invited this year?”
“Let me think… there are the five Panuzzi kids, now adults, and their spouses and children, some cousins, aunts and uncles thrown in. One of their kids wasn’t able to be here tonight—some kind of snafu with the military, or so I heard—but there are still about sixty or so blood relatives who managed to show up. Can you imagine?”
“No.” And he didn’t want to. Imagining that many Fourniers would make him vomit, he was sure of it.
“Then you have the strays. Foster kids,” she expanded when he shot her a questioning glance. “Over time, Bolo and Coco took in about a dozen or so, and several of us managed to stay in touch after we became adults. There are seven of us here, along with the friends and families we now have, so that’s almost twenty people. So, with random friends of the family thrown in, it’s close to a hundred.”
He’d been to parties where the headcount had been many times that amount, but attending those bashes were a matter of seeing and being seen—necessary networking events with insanely debauched backdrops as the settings. This gathering, however, was something so beyond his experience, he could only shake his head. “Ironic, that there are more foster children than biological, yet not nearly the number of people associated with the so-called strays, as there are with the biological children.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why it was so important I had a plus-one tonight.” As they got closer to the servers, she snagged a couple of plates and handed him one. “A lot of us who grew up in the system aren’t all that terrific at making lasting attachments.”
“What do
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