My phone chimed.
I was basting the turkey, but I turned my head to Lawrie who was standing at the opposite counter, his eyes cast down to my phone.
“Auden,” he said, looking to me. “They’re on their way.”
I sighed in relief and kept basting.
The turkey was looking fabulous. The pies were done. The potatoes were peeled. The ingredients for the rolls were churning in the breadmaker, the dough would be done in fifteen minutes so I could form the rolls and they had time to rise. My homemade cranberry sauce was already done. The sweet potato casserole was assembled and ready to go into the oven. The green bean casserole would take no time to do so it could join it. The table was laid.
It was twenty past noon. As was my life, with Lawrie’s help, and even from afar without any help from my parents, I was in a good place.
And I’d hit a certain Zen because it occurred to me that Mickey had good kids, so did I, and even though Ash was shy, I figured Pippa would do what she could to pull her out of her shell, and both of my kids would love Cillian.
It was all going to be okay.
I couldn’t imagine in my wildest dreams how it would go wrong.
But it did.
Spectacularly.
*
The disaster didn’t start at twelve thirty-five when I heard the garage door go up, announcing my kids were there, and Mickey had not yet shown.
In fact, it started swimmingly when my kids came in, saw their Uncle Lawrie and pounced on him with sheer glee.
It took a turn for the worse when, with a mother’s keen eyes, I saw something festering under that glee that was troubling.
It didn’t help matters that Pippa pretended it wasn’t there, and after turning from Lawrie and giving me her hug and kiss and happy Thanksgiving, she just said, “Gonna go dump my purse and jacket in my room and I’m all yours, Mom.”
Auden, however, didn’t pretend and when he hugged me he said in my ear, “We’ll talk after Mickey leaves. Is that okay?”
It would have to be.
I nodded and he went off to get rid of his own jacket.
The kids were just in their rooms when the doorbell rang.
I was a bit jittery but I was okay. The house smelled great. Dinner was under control. The table looked beautiful laid with my fabulous stoneware, a low harvest-colored floral arrangement with candles in the middle that spread side to side at least three feet. The kids were safe from whatever was happening with their dad and they were with me. My brother was there, and even in the unlikely event things started to go awry, he’d guide them back and he’d have help. Mickey would make sure to do that too.
I would too.
Kids were resilient. Kids were better with change than grownups.
And all had been going so well, moving straight toward happy, that I knew in my heart it was all going to be great.
So I moved to the door quickly, opened it and smiled huge at the Donovan family.
“Happy Thanksgiving!” I cried.
Mickey gave me a grin that his kids reciprocated.
I gave out hugs and also gave Mickey a swift kiss, doing this at the same time ushering them in.
I closed the door and Lawr was there.
“Right, take off your jackets as I start introductions,” I ordered. “Mickey, Cillian, Ash, this is my big brother, Lawr Hathaway. Lawr, meet the Donovan family.”
Lawr was taking coats, shaking hands and exchanging nice-to-meet-yous at the same time explaining to a curious Cillian what kind of name “Lawr” was when it happened.
Lawr and Mickey had just started greeting each other. I was smiling at it, my two best (adult) guys in the whole world shaking hands, then I saw Aisling bump into her father.
My eyes went to her and my head jerked at the look on her face.
The Donovans had come looking dapper in the way they would do it for a family Thanksgiving.
Mickey was in a nice sweater and jeans. Cillian had on a nice long-sleeved shirt and jeans.
As for Ash, she’d been quiet, as usual, but open. Her hair was gleaming, beautiful and clean and it even looked like she curled it. She had on a pretty tan skirt and a nice sweater in a soft pink, both fit her figure, pronouncing the curves she had in a lovely way, and she had on a great pair of boots. She’d also put on a hint of makeup.
Upon arrival, she’d seemed okay. Better than okay.
Now, suddenly, she seemed pale and wary and even afraid.
“Ash?” I called and her eyes darted to me.
“I thought her name was Olympia,” she whispered bafflingly.
“I’m sorry, blossom?” I asked.
“Her name is Pippa,” she told me.
I looked over my shoulder and saw Auden and Pippa there. They were hanging back, awaiting their time to come forward for introductions.
Auden appeared curious and welcoming.
Pippa looked much the same as Aisling except pale and…
Guilty.
“Pip?” I called uncertainly.
“Pippa?”
This was fairly shrieked by Cillian.
My eyes whipped back to him to see him glaring with supreme malevolence at Pippa.
And my mouth dropped open when he pointed an incensed finger at her aggressively and shouted, “You suck!”
“Cillian,” Mickey growled, moving to his son to put his hand on his shoulder.
Cillian snapped his head back to look at his dad. “She sucks! She’s mean! She and her stupid friends say crap to Ash.” He looked back to Pippa as my heart stopped beating. “You’re a stinking, ugly, loser bully.”
Oh no.
No!
“That is uncool,” Auden said low, moving closer to his sister and slightly in front of her.
“It’s true!” Cillian yelled at Auden. “I saw it! Twice!” He jerked his head back to look at his dad. “Ash won’t let me say anything. She doesn’t want you worrying.”
I looked to Pippa and my stomach twisted so much I thought I’d be sick.
“Dad, can I go home?” I heard Aisling ask her father.
“Please tell me this isn’t true,” I said to my daughter.
“It is. She’s the worst. She’s a freaking mean girl,” Cillian answered for Pippa.
I didn’t take my eyes off my daughter. “Pippa, honey, answer me.”
She looked wild-eyed and about to bolt.
But knowing there was nowhere to go, those eyes came to me and she whispered in a horrible voice, “You didn’t tell us their names. You just called them Mickey’s kids. I didn’t know it was Ash Donovan that was coming. There are three Donovans in school. You didn’t even say she was in the same grade as me.”
“Yeah.” I heard Cillian say and felt him move, knowing with the way his movement was curtailed that Mickey pulled him back. But that didn’t stop him from talking. “I bet you wouldn’t like that. Fat, ugly, Ash Donovan coming over to your house for Thanksgiving.”
My stomach twisted again. Viciously.