“Here, let me get that for you!” I bolted for the turkey in the cooler, and used that as my excuse. I stepped right up to the counter, thankful for the cover that it gave me. When she didn’t call me on it, I breathed a sigh of relief and started trying to free the poultry.
The turkey was squishy and smelled like, well, raw meat. It helped diffuse my issue a little bit.
It was a big bird, and it was a tight fit in the cooler.
Tight fit.
Don’t go there, brain. You were doing so good.
I said the alphabet in my head to distract me as I pried the turkey free. It took a few minutes, but I was almost completely under control by the time I got the bird loose.
“Where do you want it, Mrs. M?”
Mick had just finished piling the last of their things on the kitchen table. It looked like they had brought a whole apartment with them. She grabbed a large pan, and brought it over to the counter beside me.
“Right in here, if you please.”
I did as she asked, then rinsed my hands in the sink.
I still had my coat and scarf on. Time to tell the truth and hope I could sell it. “Mackenzie overslept.” I figured throwing out Max’s real name might help, considering their refusal to call her by her nickname. “I actually just got here a few minutes before you guys.” I unhooked my scarf from my neck, hoping it would lend credence to my story. “She was working late last night, and must have worn herself out.”
Don’t go there either, brain. Focus.
I slipped off my coat, too, and then realized I had no idea where to put it. Did Max have a coat closet? Her parents weren’t wearing theirs. Where had they put them? Our whole story was going to come tumbling down because I didn’t know where to hang my coat. There were two doors that could be closets. Or they could be bathrooms or laundry rooms or who knows what.
“So, Mackenzie is getting dressed now?” Her mother’s brow furrowed, and I imagined her thinking the things Max had been afraid of.
“I think she might be taking a shower, actually. I told her not to worry about it, but I think she wants to look nice for you guys.”
Hopefully she wouldn’t come out in sweatpants or something.
“Do you think she wants to take pictures?” Mrs. Miller’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. Ah, well, that seemed to distract her pretty well.
“I think so. It is our first Thanksgiving together, after all. I think it’s something we should commemorate.”
I took a chance and opened one of the doors in the living room. BINGO! Coat closet. Day = saved.
I was sliding my coat on a hanger when Mrs. M attacked me from behind. Her arms went around my middle and squeezed so hard, I thought she was trying to give me the Heimlich.
“I am just so happy you came into Mackenzie’s life. Even after only a few weeks, you’ve had such a wonderful influence on her. She never lets me take pictures of her.”
Well, damn.
Max was going to be furious.
I smiled and said, “Oh, I don’t think I’ve changed her. She was amazing before me, and is amazing now.”
“Mick? Are you listening to this wonderful boy? You could afford to take some lessons from him!”
Mick heaved himself up off the couch and came into the kitchen. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, son.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Mrs. M swatted her husband on the arm.
“Don’t you dare listen to him, Cade.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I sighed. I had a feeling this would be happening a lot today.
I watched Mrs. M putter around the kitchen. I offered to help a few times, but she always waved me off. When she wasn’t cooking, she was decorating Max’s empty apartment. She’d brought throw pillows and afghans and picture frames. I was beginning to understand that Max was the complete opposite of her parents . . . probably because she wanted to be the complete opposite of her parents.
“Where are you from, Cade?”
“Texas, ma’am.”
“Oh, where at? We live in Oklahoma!”
“I grew up in Fort Worth.”
“And your parents are still there?”
I fidgeted, scratching at the back of my neck.
“My grandmother, actually. My mother died, and my dad isn’t really in the picture.”
She stopped, her hand still shoved up inside the turkey, and looked at me.
“Oh, honey. Bless your heart.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I was young. I don’t really even remember her. Besides, I have my grandmother. That’s enough.”
She used her turkey-free hand to gesture me closer. “Come here.”
I took a few steps, and she kept waving me closer until I was right beside her. Then with one hand still intimately exploring the inside of a turkey, she wrapped her other arm around me in a hug.
She said, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember your mother. I’m still so sorry for the things you had to face. It must have been difficult.”
It was weird, but the awkward turkey hug did make me feel better. I got why Max was so weird about her parents, but I would have given anything to have parents that would show up unannounced and intrude upon my life. Grams was too old to do anything like that, though I’m sure she would if she could.