serious?”
“I used to watch it with the girls every year when they were little, and ever since the divorce…” He shrugged. “It means a lot to her. I’ll only be a few minutes. Just until the commercial break.”
“Daaaddy!” came the high-pitched wail from the next room.
“Fine.” I gripped the chef’s knife and resumed chopping. “Go ahead. Whatever.”
Two minutes later, Taylor called, “Hey, ’Rissa! Come here a sec!”
Marissa’s face turned bright red as she glanced from the sauce simmering on the stove top to me.
“Marissa! Hurry! It’s your favorite part!”
“Go ahead,” I said, waving her toward the door. “Go. Don’t feel bad. I’ll just…do everything myself.”
And I did. While It’s a Wonderful Life segued into Miracle on 34th Street (another fond childhood favorite, as it turned out), I slaved over the turkey and the trimmings. I let Cash out of the laundry room and he sat loyally by the stove, waiting for me to reward his patience with munchies. Three hours later, the turkey was dry, the potatoes were lumpy, the stuffing was singed, and the gravy had congealed into a brown paste, but dinner was as ready as it was going to get.
“Okay, you guys!” I yelled toward the family room. “Dinner is served.”
All I heard in response was the sweeping violin from the movie’s sound track. So I set the table and arranged the food artfully on the starched linen tablecloth. Even Casey would have been proud of my presentation.
“Hel-looo! Dinner is served! ” I hollered down the hall.
Still nothing.
Trying to think charitable, holiday-appropriate thoughts, I marched into the family room. Mark, Marissa, and Taylor were watching the TV with slack-jawed fascination while snacking from a plate of cheese and crackers they’d somehow smuggled in from the kitchen, presumably while I’d been on a bathroom break.
I gasped. “You’ve spoiled your appetites!”
“No, no,” Mark assured me, brushing crumbs off his sweater. “We just needed a little something to tide us over. Because, uh, everything smells so good.”
“ So good.” Taylor smirked. “I gather you charbroiled the turkey. Very nouvelle cuisine.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. “Let’s just eat, okay?”
“Okay.” Mark nodded. “As soon as this scene is over.”
I snatched the remote out of Taylor’s hand and snapped off the TV. “Now.”
Mark couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d slapped him. “Stella!”
“What? I’ve worked very hard to make a nice dinner for us, and I would like us to please sit down before it gets cold.” I paused, searching for one of those academic phrases he was forever throwing around. “I.e., right now.”
In the long pause that followed, we heard it—the clinking of china from the dining room.
“What the hell?” Mark led the charge down the hall, where we found the shredded turkey carcass lying on the rug, the bowl that had previously contained mashed potatoes empty, and the bread basket overturned. Under the table, Cash rolled over onto his back, wagging his tail as he licked his chops.
“My food.” Tears flooded into my eyes. “My dinner. All my hard work.”
Behind me, Taylor started to snicker.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mark put one arm around me. “I’m so sorry.”
This just made me tearier.
He cleared his throat. “But, you know, I did ask you to put the dog outside.”
14
CASEY
W hen the doorbell rang on Thanksgiving Day, my heart soared as I ran to answer it. Nick had come back! He’d finally decided to put me first! Finally—we could start behaving like a real married couple.
“Hang on,” I called as I wrestled with the shiny security chain. When I finally got the door open, I found…“ Erin?”
“Hi.” She was leaning against the porch railing wearing loose black pants, her puffy green parka, and a scowl that suggested she’d chugged a whole quart of vinegar on the ride over.
“Uh-oh. What happened?” I stepped back into
“I used to watch it with the girls every year when they were little, and ever since the divorce…” He shrugged. “It means a lot to her. I’ll only be a few minutes. Just until the commercial break.”
“Daaaddy!” came the high-pitched wail from the next room.
“Fine.” I gripped the chef’s knife and resumed chopping. “Go ahead. Whatever.”
Two minutes later, Taylor called, “Hey, ’Rissa! Come here a sec!”
Marissa’s face turned bright red as she glanced from the sauce simmering on the stove top to me.
“Marissa! Hurry! It’s your favorite part!”
“Go ahead,” I said, waving her toward the door. “Go. Don’t feel bad. I’ll just…do everything myself.”
And I did. While It’s a Wonderful Life segued into Miracle on 34th Street (another fond childhood favorite, as it turned out), I slaved over the turkey and the trimmings. I let Cash out of the laundry room and he sat loyally by the stove, waiting for me to reward his patience with munchies. Three hours later, the turkey was dry, the potatoes were lumpy, the stuffing was singed, and the gravy had congealed into a brown paste, but dinner was as ready as it was going to get.
“Okay, you guys!” I yelled toward the family room. “Dinner is served.”
All I heard in response was the sweeping violin from the movie’s sound track. So I set the table and arranged the food artfully on the starched linen tablecloth. Even Casey would have been proud of my presentation.
“Hel-looo! Dinner is served! ” I hollered down the hall.
Still nothing.
Trying to think charitable, holiday-appropriate thoughts, I marched into the family room. Mark, Marissa, and Taylor were watching the TV with slack-jawed fascination while snacking from a plate of cheese and crackers they’d somehow smuggled in from the kitchen, presumably while I’d been on a bathroom break.
I gasped. “You’ve spoiled your appetites!”
“No, no,” Mark assured me, brushing crumbs off his sweater. “We just needed a little something to tide us over. Because, uh, everything smells so good.”
“ So good.” Taylor smirked. “I gather you charbroiled the turkey. Very nouvelle cuisine.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. “Let’s just eat, okay?”
“Okay.” Mark nodded. “As soon as this scene is over.”
I snatched the remote out of Taylor’s hand and snapped off the TV. “Now.”
Mark couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d slapped him. “Stella!”
“What? I’ve worked very hard to make a nice dinner for us, and I would like us to please sit down before it gets cold.” I paused, searching for one of those academic phrases he was forever throwing around. “I.e., right now.”
In the long pause that followed, we heard it—the clinking of china from the dining room.
“What the hell?” Mark led the charge down the hall, where we found the shredded turkey carcass lying on the rug, the bowl that had previously contained mashed potatoes empty, and the bread basket overturned. Under the table, Cash rolled over onto his back, wagging his tail as he licked his chops.
“My food.” Tears flooded into my eyes. “My dinner. All my hard work.”
Behind me, Taylor started to snicker.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Mark put one arm around me. “I’m so sorry.”
This just made me tearier.
He cleared his throat. “But, you know, I did ask you to put the dog outside.”
14
CASEY
W hen the doorbell rang on Thanksgiving Day, my heart soared as I ran to answer it. Nick had come back! He’d finally decided to put me first! Finally—we could start behaving like a real married couple.
“Hang on,” I called as I wrestled with the shiny security chain. When I finally got the door open, I found…“ Erin?”
“Hi.” She was leaning against the porch railing wearing loose black pants, her puffy green parka, and a scowl that suggested she’d chugged a whole quart of vinegar on the ride over.
“Uh-oh. What happened?” I stepped back into
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