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Ray poked at the centerpiece with his finger. "Benny, what is that?"
Fraser paused, and then continued to slice strawberries as if he spent every afternoon in the kitchen. "It's a pineapple, Ray."
"I know that. I see that it's a pineapple. Any idiot could tell that this is a pineapple. What I want to know is why it's sitting on Ma's counter, when we both know how much she hates the smell of citrus these days." Ray shuffled in front of the offending item, as if the presence of it might bring Francesca's wrath down upon them from on high, or at least from the nursery upstairs.
It had been a tense few months, since Ray had returned from Florida to find his sister happily planning to give birth and repeatedly refusing to marry Ray Kowalski. They were all adjusting, but Fraser supposed that Ray's skittishness had as much to do with the coming afternoon as it did with Francesca's short temper and surprisingly good aim. Previously, Fraser had imagined that baby showers were a celebration; he had recently revised his opinion substantially.
Fraser smiled and speared a piece of melon with his knife. He offered it to Ray, who grudgingly reached out and took a bite. "It's customary for fruit salad to be served at celebrations like this, isn't it? And if it's really a problem, we'll simply leave it whole. Pineapples are good luck, after all. They're a symbol of welcome."
Ray swallowed and then stepped closer to Fraser. "It's your funeral, I guess. Just don't expect me to step in front of you when she figures out who brought it into the house. I like my face just the way it is, thanks."
Fraser leaned in for a kiss. "That makes two of us, then."