Mistleton and Other Men

Mistleton agreed to let Woody host Thanksgiving at the farm, as long as the day remained open for a ride and any assistance Hunter might need. Eager to entertain his new friends and recreate the intimate evening of dinner and fireside conversation from a few nights before—minus the complimentary hand job at the end—Woody promised Mistleton a free pass for the first half of the day. He assured him he would handle everything, from cooking the meal and setting the table to cleaning up afterwards, and he planned to limit the guest list to six: Holly, Sharon, Julian, Noah, and the two of them.

Woodly liked to organize dinner parties and couldn’t wait to bring his touch to the Mistleton dining room. Like the other rooms in the house, the dining room had an elegant, lived-in charm about it, but with the grandeur of Old-World sophistication and a relaxed, shabby chic vibe. The 19^th-century English mahogany table and English rosewood side chairs with red silk upholstered seats contrasted with the early 20^th-century American still lifes and landscapes in mismatched frames covering the pale blue walls of the room. The curvaceous arms and drops of the mid-century crystal chandelier suspended above the table offset the faceted geometric brass candle sticks crowding the white marble mantle and the black walnut chest of doors and drop-leaf tables lining the walls. The eclectic mix of colors, patterns, and textures of accent pillows from all over the world created a visual tapestry over the classic carved mahogany Grecian sofa against the dining room’s one long wall.

Woody already had the table arrangement mapped out in his head and followed the plan exactly. He started with the Venise lace tablecloth he found in a chest of drawers, layering it over a solid ivory cloth. Mistleton’s butler’s pantry offered plenty of choices for the place settings, but he decided on the time-worn, gold-trimmed Haviland plates and Waterford glassware. For cutlery, he went with one of the Christofle sterling sets, choosing Marly over Versailles at the last minute. To balance out the ensemble, he contributed his own Lithuanian linen napkins, since everything else on the table—including the silver candlesticks—came from Mistleton. For the centerpiece, he created an arrangement of pomegranates, apples, hawthorn berries, a few baby pumpkins from the farm, and some mistletoe sprigs as a hint to the upcoming winter holidays.    

Sharon and Noah arrived first. Noah looked uncomfortable in his gray wool suit and necktie. Woody couldn’t recall a time when he saw him wearing anything other than loose-fitting blue jeans and a button-down plaid shirt. Sharon, on the other hand, hit the mark with her smart knee-length black wrap dress and leather motorcycle jacket. Woody told them that dinner was casual—he had on burgundy twill pants with a stone blue cashmere V-neck sweater and matching tee. With a friendly pat on Noah’s shoulder, Woody grinned. “Go ahead and ditch the tie, Noah.” Noah relaxed instantly, grateful for the cue. “Can I interest you both in a drink? I’ve made cranberry mimosas.”

Woody didn’t know until their opening conversation that neither Noah nor Sharon had ever been inside the house. Based on what Noah knew about Mistleton and his family, he could only imagine elegantly decorated and furnished rooms—he was right about that—but he wrongly assumed that the elegant surroundings would call for more formal attire. The truth is, Woody and Mistleton preferred a more relaxed vibe, leaving the formalities behind. For Mistleton especially, it was perfectly natural to be surrounded by luxury, dressed in an old T-shirt and threadbare jeans.

Holly and Julian let themselves in while Woody played tour guide of the house for Sharon and Noah. Holly rushed down the hall toward the pantry, a still-warm pie made with apples she had picked just a day earlier in her hands. “I brought this just in case!” she called out as she passed Woody and the others near the door out to the garden. Julian headed straight for the Armagnac in the den, leaving only Mistleton unaccounted for.

Woody led his junior guests clockwise through the first floor of the house, passing through the dining room and den before returning to the hall, where he poured himself another mimosa before heading into the living room. He lost count of how many drinks he’d had—this was his third, maybe? He didn’t want his hostess jitters to get the better of him. Besides, the champagne, combined with the adrenaline that came with hosting a dinner party at Mistleton, made him feel ebullient. He talked so fast about the art and furniture in the house that Sharon and Noah had a hard time keeping up with him. With their eyes and mouths wide open, the young couple did their best to follow Woody’s arm as he pointed out different objects.

Holly and Julian caught up with the group in the living room. A sound at the door signaled that Mistleton had arrived. “Hi everyone,” he said, peeking his head into the living room while the door frame and wall concealed his sweaty cycling kit, especially the tear in the back of his bib tights where Hunter had forced his way in. “I’m sorry for being late. Today’s ride was rougher than usual. I’ll go clean up and then join you in a few minutes.” The group acknowledged him with smiles and nods before turning their attention back to Woody, who was eager to continue his tour.

Woody, back in the center of their attention, continued. “I have to show you all something I found in the piano bench,” Woody whispered, his voice low and conspiratorial, as if he were about to unveil a hidden treasure. “Now, close your eyes.” He lifted the lid of the bench and pulled out an old photo of two young men carrying mistletoe. Holding it so that his fingers concealed the face of the man who resembled Mistleton, Woody brought the photo closer to everyone’s faces. “Now, open your eyes and tell me who this man looks like.” Before he could adjust his fingers to reveal the man on the right, Holly replied, “Looks just like Hunter,” referring to the man on the left.

“I meant the man on the right, Holly,” Woody said, a hint of disappointment in his voice as he realized he had spoiled the reveal. He didn’t catch Holly or anyone else saying, “Oh, that man looks just like Mistleton.” Instead, her mention of Hunter pulled him into his thoughts, highlighting that he had never actually met the man. He had only seen Hunter from a distance, working around the farm.

Just then, a knock at the door jolted Woody back to reality. Wondering who it could be since all the guests were accounted for, he left the others with the photo in the living room and went to answer it. “Hey, Woody,” the man at the door said with a low, easy tone as he handed over a freshly cut bunch of flowers. “Mistleton forgot these in the greenhouse.”

“Oh, thanks,” Woody replied, a hint of surprise in his voice as he looked closely at the man, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the one in the photo. “You must be Hunter.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Hunter replied, his tone straightforward, with an easy confidence. “Happy Thanksgiving.” Woody stood at the door as Hunter turned and walked away, captivated by the raw masculinity that radiated from him, leaving Woody momentarily speechless.

After a steadying breath, Woody closed the door and returned to his guests in the living room.

“Smooth blue asters?” Holly murmured, caught off guard by the romantic gesture. “Who are those meant for, Woody?”

Woody blinked, a bit puzzled. “You know, I didn’t even think to ask. Hunter just said that Bush had left them in the greenhouse.” Holly raised an eyebrow, a slight smile forming. “Well, somebody’s in love.”