#spanish revival fireplace hearth

[rilayagifs]

Mediterranean Living Room Santa Barbara Small tuscan open concept medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room photo with white walls, a standard fireplace, a tile fireplace and no tv

[rebelsocialitenyc]

Enclosed in Santa Barbara Living room - small mediterranean enclosed medium tone wood floor and brown floor living room idea with white walls, a standard fireplace, no tv and a tile fireplace

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

The Feast of the Seven Fishes-New MC Fanfic

This is just something I threw together for Christmas in my continuing effort to show how Sharon and Andy spent their first year of marriage together. I got the inspiration from Tony who talked about this Sicilian tradition in an interview and how he hoped to go back to his roots and host one in the future. Can totally see Andy embracing the whole family this way.

You can read here https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13157919/1/The-Feast-of-the-Seven-Fishes or here https://archiveofourown.org/works/17160020 or here:

Sharon gazed up at the 15 foot Douglas fir placed in the corner of their living room. It was so tall that her 6 foot 1-inch husband had struggled to get the angel straight, even on a ladder. It had been a long time since she’d had a live tree, let alone one this big. A high ceiling was one of the many attributes of their new home.  The tree was beautiful, filled with ornaments from their pasts and new ones they had purchased together—including the special stained glass shamrock ornament reading “Ireland 2018” that they had purchased on their honeymoon in Ireland.

Last year at this time, she was still recovering from the mild bout of cardiomyopathy that had thankfully turned out to be more of an annoyance than anything else. She’d had to take some time off to allow the virus to run its course and they’d decided to put off their search for a new home until she was feeling stronger. Now, they had this beautiful Spanish Revival, with its high exposed wood beam ceilings, wrought iron chandeliers and the extra spare rooms that would house some of the family members who would be descending on their home tonight. Boughs of holly were draped along the stone fireplace mantle where their stockings were lined up in a row. Live wreaths hung on the walls, filling the air with the scent of balsam pine. Gorgeous full poinsettias in red and white graced the coffee table, the end tables and the top of Sharon’s piano—her housewarming gift from Andy. A strategic sprig of mistletoe dangled in the archway leading from the hall into the living room, a spot where Andy caught her at every opportunity.

She could hear him now in the kitchen, just through another graceful archway off the living room. He was in his glory, preparing for the “Feast of the Seven Fishes” a seven-course traditional Sicilian Christmas Eve meal. It was something he remembered fondly from his childhood and for as long as she had known him; he had talked about wanting to do this for their family. However, until they bought this new larger home, it hadn’t been feasible. The condo wasn’t large enough for both their extended families. This house was.

She made her way into the kitchen, watching Andy slapping together crab and salmon cakes while humming along to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” with Andy Williams. She ran her hand along his shoulders as she made her way to the stove, earning that pure Andy smile that always made her feel like she was the best thing in his world. She lifted the cover on the vat of bubbling New England clam chowder, stuck a spoon in, and took a taste. The chowder was her contribution, her grandmother’s recipe that always transported her back to summers on Nantucket.

Seven dishes was a lot of food so they were doing as much prep work as possible so all they would have to do tonight was heat everything up. They would start with bacon wrapped scallops along with traditional antipasto for hors-d'oeuvres, and then they would move into the meal. The chowder, followed by the crab and salmon cake appetizers, then a coconut shrimp salad with orange marmalade sauce, lobster rolls made with fresh Maine lobster purchased from ‘Cape Seafood and Provisions’ in West Hollywood, garlicky shrimp scampi, and baked flounder au gratin made with flounder  that Andy and Ricky caught on a fishing trip out to Catalina. Ricky and his girlfriend Tess had flown in a couple days ago and would be staying with them in one of the guest rooms. Emily was due to arrive any minute with her O’Dwyer grandparents, and Andy’s mother and his sisters Antonella, Maura, Peggy, and Gina, along with Peggy and Gina’s husbands and Gina’s daughter Sophia had settled in at a local B&B run by a friend of Sharon’s from her book club. Sharon’s sister Christine, her brother in law Ed and her nieces Jillian and Bridget were also staying at the B&B.

**********

It was Christmas Eve, the food was prepared and Sharon’s sense of occasion had the house looking like something out of a magazine spread. A fire burned in the hearth, white lights twinkled on the large Christmas tree and ran along the built-in bookshelves that flanked the fireplace. Christmas music played softly on the Bose surround sound speakers that Ricky had helped them set up with they’d first moved in. The families mingled, some carrying wine glasses, others cut glass miniature mugs of eggnog doctored up with a little vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, and nutmeg. A bottle of spiced rum sat next to the punch bowl for those who wanted a little extra zip in their nog.

Andy stood leaning against the fireplace sipping his non-spiked eggnog, listening to Celine Dion sing about another year having gone by. He had been talking with Nicole and Dean but as they moved on to get some cheese and crackers for the boys he took a moment to survey the room with pleasure. All the O’Dwyers, Raydors, and Flynn’s were under one roof. His roof. Their roof. His eyes fell on Sharon across the room near the piano. She was in a conversation with her mother, his mother, and his sister Antonella. She had changed into a red cashmere sweater dress that gently skimmed over her curves along with knee-high black suede boots. Sexy and elegant. That was his wife. As if she felt his gaze on her, she turned and caught his eyes, flashing him a broad beaming smile that lit her whole face and made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. When Sharon smiled at him like that, he felt like he could walk on water.

Later that night when they returned from midnight mass at St. Joseph’s and she had changed into a long white silk nightgown, he into pajama bottoms and t-shirt, he slid his iPod into the dock and clicked on one of her favorites, Michael Buble.

“Dance with me,” he said, holding out a hand. She took it and stepped into his arms, resting her head on his broad chest, swaying gently to “I’ll be Home for Christmas” thinking that Buble could even make that holiday favorite sound sexy.

“We are home, aren’t we?” she said, nuzzling into his chest. God how she loved this house near the sea.

“We are,” he agreed, rubbing his cheek against her soft fragrant hair. “But it’s more than this house. It’s you, Sharon. You’re my home. You always have been.”

She pulled back, hearing the catch in his voice. When she saw the sheen of tears displayed in his dark eyes by the moonlight shining through the French doors, she cupped a hand over his cheek. She knew he was thinking about last year at this time. “And you’re my home. As long as we’re together nothing else matters.”

“No, it doesn’t. And as far as Christmas goes, I’ve already been given the best gift ever. I‘ll never have to ask for anything else.”

She cocked her head with curiosity. “What’s that?”

“You. Here with me, healthy and well. When you were sick last year, I made a few deals with God. One of those was that I’d never ask for anything else as long as he made you well again. He kept up His end of the bargain and there’s nothing else I want or need that can ever compare to having you by my side. Forever.

Sharon felt the tear slide down her cheek and then his thumb wiping it away. “How’d I ever get so lucky to have a man like you in my life?”

“Me? I dunno. Provenza said I was the booby prize.”

Sharon gave a surprised little snort laugh. No one could make her laugh through her tears like Andy. “You’re not the booby prize,” she said. “You’re the blue ribbon all the way.  

******

Christmas morning brought more good news for the family when Dean and Nicole showed up with Tyler and Scottie who were wearing reindeer t-shirts that read “Oh Deer, I’m going to be a big brother” and the announcement that she was due in June. The entire family erupted with excitement, but none more so than Andy and Sharon who were over the moon at the idea of another grandchild.

Once the gifts were unwrapped, the paper balled up in boxes to be sent to recycling, everyone moved into the dining room for a large brunch. Casseroles, ham and cheese, sausage and hash browns, and French toast. Quiche, both veggie and bacon and Gruyere, and a variety of Danish’s, cinnamon rolls, croissants, muffins, coffee cake, and bagels were spread out on the table. It was sunny and in the mid-’60s so Sharon left the French doors open to the patio. Some ate outside under the pergola on the large farmer’s table or perched on the comfortable chairs Andy had placed in a cozy circle around the outdoor Chiminea, while others ate inside in the dining room or on the island bar in the kitchen.  

While they ate Ricky and Tess announced that they were moving in together and would be looking for a condo in San Diego or its surroundings. Tess had been working on her Master's degree in Psychology with a focus on refugee mental health and human rights at Berkeley and had interned with different programs helping refugee children and their families in the Bay area. Now with her Master’s completed, she had been offered a job working with traumatized children experiencing posttraumatic stress having come from refugee situations, many who had been tortured, abused or traumatized by watching family members killed in front of them. She would be working with the children utilizing Trauma-Focused Cognitive Behavioral Therapy techniques. It was an amazing opportunity and she had to take it, but it meant moving over 7 hours away from Ricky and that was something they both deemed unacceptable. This time it was Ricky who would make the sacrifice. He was lucky. With his computer savvy he could pretty much find a job anywhere in the world, and in many cases, name his price. So, moving had not been a difficult decision. In fact, he informed them that he already had a few interviews lined up in cybersecurity.

Sharon was thrilled that her son was in a serious relationship with a young woman she really liked and that Ricky had been willing to make sacrifices to make the relationship work. Even better, he was now going to be an easily drivable distance away. Less than two hours! He and Andy had already been talking about fishing trips and Dodger games.

A little later while everyone was relaxing inside and they were burning cardboard in the Chiminea, Andy slipped an arm around Sharon‘s waist. “Looks like 2019 is going to be another great year for us.”

“Yes, it does.” She rested her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “A new baby, Ricky getting serious with Tess and moving closer to home and our first full year in our new house.”

Andy looked inside through the French doors, his eyes falling on Emily who was laughing with his sister Gina. “Now if we can just get our girl closer to home, life would be perfect.”

Our girl. God how she loved him.