Les didn't know how to take compliments. He had a lot more experience at being insulted or ignored.

 
Les looked down. He giggled. “Yeah, the sneakers don’t go with the dress, huh?” He felt a bit dizzy. “I have no idea what size shoe I wear.”

Pris laughed. “They don’t. Let’s try some of my shoes.” She disappeared into her closet and came back out with half a dozen shoe boxes which she dropped in front of his bed. “These are some I don’t wear anymore. See if any fit you.”

Tentatively, he opened the boxes and examined the shoes. He cringed a bit when he observed that they tended to the feminine and decorative end. Pulling off the sneakers Maddy had bought for him, he checked them for size, noting that he was wearing thick socks with them and even so, they were a bit loose.

With that size info, he picked a pair of simple flats, navy with a small pink bow. Only slightly cringe-worthy, he decided. And they fit, though the thick teddy bear socks looked a bit odd with them.

Without him saying anything about the problem, Pris dropped an unopened package of lacy white socks beside him. He sighed, changed socks, buckled the new shoes across his ankle and stood.

Pris looked pleased. “Those work. Maybe not warm enough for outside in March but they look nice with….” She frowned. “You really don’t know how to wear a dress, do you?”

Les shook his head, embarrassed.

She gave him some instruction. “You were sitting, so when you stand up, you need to smooth the dress over your butt because it might ride up or catch on something. And keep your knees close together.”

He nodded, and Pris laughed.

“We should, uh, do something about those tacky bangles you’re wearing,” said Pris. “How about these instead?”

Les examined a pair of metal rings Pris passed over, one silvery, the other golden, both with worked leaf-and-flower motifs. Less gaudy, still feminine without being quite so flashy. He replaced the plastic rings on his left wrist almost happily, handing them to Pris with an embarrassed giggle.

“This is your dresser,” said Pris, putting the discarded plastic loops on top of the piece of furniture next to the bed he had been napping on.

A voice came from downstairs, “Girls? Dinner time.”

Pris grabbed his hand. “We eat dinner early here,” she said. “Because afterward, we take care of Mom’s animals.”

“Animals?” he repeated while being tugged toward the door.

“Uh-huh. You’ll see. We have stables at the back of the property, next to Mom’s office.”

“What kind of animals?” Les had some unpleasant past experience with the sort of large, ill-tempered dogs kept by members of the underclass.

“Horses, cattle, sheep, we had a mountain lion once, that was interesting,” said Pris. She pulled him out of the room and to the top of the circular stairs above the entry.

Wait, thought Les, I’m about to go downstairs to dinner wearing a dress! How did this happen? He tried to dig in his heels a bit. “Wait!” he squeaked as Pris’s larger size and greater strength urged him toward the precipice. The soft flats he was wearing didn’t do anything toward gripping the polished wood of the floor either.

Pris paused. “Oh!” she said. “You don’t know how to go down stairs wearing a skirt, do you?”

Les shook his head. He hadn’t even considered it as something one would have to learn. Perhaps his look of panic amused Pris because she snorted a laugh.

“Just put one hand on your thigh, like this,” she demonstrated. “If it’s outside and there’s a wind blowing, you might need two hands and to grab a bit of cloth.”

“Oh, fuh—” said Les as he and Pris descended, still holding hands. No, no, no. I can’t be doing this. I can’t.

“You’re fine,” said Pris. She led him through a wide living room and a formal dining room to where noises indicated people getting ready to eat. They passed through an archway with a large kitchen on the right and a smaller, but still substantial, room filled with an enormous table and ten chairs.

A white-haired man sat at one end in a captain’s chair. He didn’t look old enough to have really white hair, so maybe he was just a platinum blond. On his right sat a slim black girl, or woman, who turned to look at Pris and Les entering. “Hey, sis. Is this our new waif? She’s gorgeous,” the girl said.

“Hey, everybody,” Pris said loudly. “This is Ellie Love or just Elle. She’s going to be staying with us for a few weeks.”

Les felt his bones melt and almost collapsed from fright.

“You know Mom, Elle,” said Pris, gesturing at Jessie at the other end of the table. “And the only guy here is, Dad. Dr. Owen Davenport.”

The white-haired man smiled at Les. “I keep getting surrounded by beautiful women. I must have been a saint in a previous life,” he said.

Les looked at Pris quickly, but she ignored her father and continued the introductions. “Next to him on this side is Kimby, our oldest sister; she graduates from high school soon.”

The black girl chirped, “Hi, Elle.”

“Next to Kim is Carol,” said Pris. Another girl turned around to greet Les, and he saw that something was wrong with her face and that she was sitting in an elevated wheelchair.

Carol smiled crookedly and carefully pronounced a greeting. “Pleased to meet you, Ellie.”

Les ducked his head to acknowledge the greetings. “Hi,” he managed to gasp.

“On the other side of Dad, are the twins, Lolly and Molly.” Two eight-year-olds scowled at Pris. They couldn’t really be twins since one was blond and the other a brunette, probably Hispanic, with cinnamon skin and milk chocolate eyes.

“It’s Laura and Maribel,” said the little blonde, indignant. The brunette giggled.

“That’s what I said,” agreed Pris, “Lollipop and Mollybell.”

“No-o-o!” protested the small blonde who looked in fact like a younger version of Pris. The brunette giggled again and hid her face.

“Bettina and Josie sit over there,” Pris pointed at the empty opposite corner, next to the twins, and you and I will sit here between Carol and Mom.”

“You look very nice, Elle,” said Jessie. “That’s one of Pris’s frocks, but it looks better on you.”

Les shook his head, confused with all the names.

“Oh, yes, it does,” insisted Pris.

Having absolutely no idea of what to do or say, Les settled for a small giggle. It seems to work for Molly, he thought.

Pris whispered to him, “When you sit down, run a hand under your butt, so your dress isn’t all wrinkled when you stand up.”

I never knew wearing a dress was so complicated, Les thought. Which caused him to smile with the absurdity of the thought. Amazingly, everyone at the table smiled back.

Owen, the male Dr. Donovan, looked pointedly at Pris. “The twins set the table, so it’s your turn to help serve, Priscilla.”

“Sure,” said Pris. “That’s why I hadn’t sat down yet.” She tapped Les on the shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen where Les could see two women working at the counters. “And you and Carol get to help clean up,” Pris said in passing.

Me? thought Les.

Beside him, across the empty chair between them, Carol laughed softly. “It’s fun. I carry stuff to the sink in my lap,” she said in her precise way of speaking.

And then everyone was talking at once as Pris, and the two women (one of whom was Bettina that Les had met before) brought in bowls of salad and soup, baskets of bread, platters of meat and vegetables, and pitchers of water, juice and milk.

“Did you find any other clothes you liked in Pris’s closet?” Jessie was asking him after getting his attention in the hubbub.

“We just started,” he explained. “This was the first thing I picked up, and Pris insisted I try it on.” He blushed.

“Well,” Jessie said. “You have excellent taste. That color is perfect for you.”

Les could only giggle, unable to tell Jessie how much he had resisted putting the dress on.

She laughed. “You don’t know how to take compliments, do you?” she asked.

He shook his head. He had a lot more experience at being insulted or ignored.

Once everyone was seated, with Pris slipping into the seat next to Les, Owen held his hands out to each side. “Let’s all hold hands and give thanks for this meal.”

Les took Jessie’s hand on one side, and Pris’s on the other, wondering. It wasn’t Thanksgiving, did the Davenport family do this at every meal.

Owen spoke what could only be called a prayer, though it was not addressed to any sort of supreme being.

“Let us be joyful,” he said in a clear baritone, “in our daily lives and thankful for our fellowship and this meal we share tonight. Let us be humble to remember that we did not make this food grow and respectful of those who had a hand in its preparation.”

He continued, and his words pierced Les’s heart. “And let us welcome the new addition to our circle tonight, Ellie Love, whose name reminds us of why we are a family. Let her grow in closeness within our circle so that when she returns to her own family, she will know that she will always have friends here.”

Les burst into tears.