I quit the penthouse project.
What? Why? Why on earth did you do that?
It wasn’t working out.
Wasn’t working out? For Pete’s sake, Jen!
Grayson Coker hit on me. He tried to kiss me. He was inappropriate with his hands.
What?
So I walked out. And I quit.
[Deep breath.]
When was this?
A few weeks ago.
Weeks ago? And you didn’t tell me?
I thought you’d be angry.
I am angry. How dare he…
And I knew you’d be upset about the money. I mean, I know we need it. But the good news is, a new opportunity presented itself.
What is it?
A show. A design show on SinTV called Real-Life Rehab.
SinTV, as in the network that produces Swing Set?
[Pause. Jennifer wonders if Patrick, too, watches Swing Set.]
Yes.
Does this design show involve swinging?
No. They rehab buildings in bad neighborhoods. They’re setting it in Boston. The first house is in Dorchester. They want me to be the host. I’ll get paid thirty-five thousand dollars per episode for the first twelve episodes of the first season.
Thirty-five thousand per episode? That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.
But.
But what?
The show is called Real-Life Rehab for a reason. I have to tell everyone that I’m a recovering addict. That’s part of the deal. Nonnegotiable.
Oh.
What do you think?
I… uh, okay. Wow. I don’t know what to think. What do you think?
I think I’m going to do it. I’m going to choose bravery over shame. Humility over pride. Otherwise, I’m hiding in the shadows. I don’t want to hide in the shadows. I want the spotlight.
Good for you.
Really?
Yes, really. Come here and give me a kiss.
On Monday morning Jennifer calls Danko and says, “I’m going to do the show.”
“Yasssss!” he says. “The studio execs are going to be thrilled. Good for you, Jennifer. You won’t regret it. I’ll FedEx the contracts to you today, and we’ll likely start shooting the pilot just after the first of the year.”
Jennifer hangs up the phone. She feels brave and humble. And excited!
Now…now she can allow herself to think about Thanksgiving. She will make a kale Caesar with homemade dressing and pumpernickel croutons, and an autumn salad of mixed greens, butternut squash, dried cranberries, goat cheese, and toasted pecans with an apple cider vinaigrette.
Yum.
Mitzi has decided to keep dinner “just family,” but even that involves quite a crowd. Kelley and Mitzi will be there, obviously, as well as one or both of Kelley’s hospice nurses, as well as Jennifer, Patrick, and the three boys, and Kevin, Isabelle, Genevieve, and baby KJ. Ava is coming without Potter. (Again without Potter? This seems odd to Jennifer and she says so to Patrick. Patrick says, “He’s in California seeing his son.”) Margaret and Drake are coming, just after Margaret’s retirement trip to Barbados. And Bart will be there with his new girlfriend, Allegra, who was the girl dressed up like a geisha at his birthday party.
Despite the presence of hospice nurses, and despite the fact that Kelley’s speech has slowed down and he can’t eat more than a few bites of food, Mitzi has instructed everyone that the holiday is to be treated as it has always been treated in the Quinn household—as a celebration of family, a day of gratitude.
Think how lucky we are, Mitzi writes in the group text she sends. Bart is home.
Then she sends a text that says: There will be no tears, no maudlin toasts, and above all: no family squabbles. There will be turkey with all the trimmings, there will be pie and there will be football.
And at midnight Mitzi will proceed with her tradition of decorating the inn for Christmas.
That means nutcrackers! Mitzi says. And the Byers’ Choice carolers!
Jennifer is so happy about her decision and her new career that she doesn’t even roll her eyes.
Patrick, Jennifer, and the boys put the BMW on the ferry Thursday morning. The boys go up to the top deck with money for hot dogs and chowder, and Patrick pulls a bottle of Schramsberg sparkling wine and a half gallon of fresh-squeezed juice from the cooler in the back of the car.
“Surprise,” he says.
Jennifer beams. He must have sneaked the champagne and juice in alongside the salad fixings. He’s the sweetest, most thoughtful man alive; Jennifer loves mimosas on Thanksgiving morning.
“This’ll keep us from engaging in family squabbles,” Jennifer says as she and Patrick do a cheers with their plastic cups.
“Either that,” Patrick says, “or it will make us engage in family squabbles.”
Jennifer laughs. It’s anyone’s guess.
She senses something off as soon as she walks into the inn—but maybe she’s imagining it. She had three mimosas on the ferry; she’s a little bit buzzed. That must be it. The house is already filled with people, the parade is on TV, and there’s the rich, savory aroma of turkey coming from the kitchen. Mitzi doesn’t start decorating until midnight, but there’s a fifteen-foot Douglas fir in its usual place in the corner of the room next to the fireplace, so there are added scents of woodsmoke and pine.
Jennifer doles out kisses:
Margaret (“I can’t tell you how happy I am not to be at that parade!”).
Drake (“When you and Paddy go to Barbados, you have to stay at Cobblers Cove. It’s like something straight out of 1957”).
Ava (“I made Potter go to Palo Alto. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later”).
Mitzi (“Did you bring two salads? I hope you brought two salads”).
Bart (“This is my girlfriend, Allegra. We used the gift certificate to Fifty-Six Union, so thank you again”).
Allegra (“Yes, thank you so much. You’re married to Patrick, right? And you have three boys—Barrett, Pierce, and Jaime. Bart made me memorize the family tree”).
Kevin (“Hi, Sis. Can I get you a glass of wine?”).
“Yes, please,” Jennifer says. She can’t figure out what it is, but something doesn’t feel right. It’s as though she’s standing in a pocket of cold air. Maybe it’s Kelley. His light is fading. Everyone must feel it. “Where’s your father?” Jennifer asks Patrick. The boys have vanished upstairs to their room, which has a TV and a PS4. They’ll play Minecraft until the first football game comes on, then it’ll be all about their fantasy teams. Jennifer won’t hear from them again until dinner.
“He’s sleeping,” Patrick says. “He normally wakes up between four and five, Mitzi says. Dinner is at five thirty.”
Kevin returns, holding Jennifer’s wine. “For you,” he says. He raises his bottle of beer. “I would make a toast about this being the last Thanksgiving at the inn, the last Quinn family Thanksgiving…”
“But nothing maudlin,” Jennifer says. She notices Kevin’s eyes shining. She tries to change the subject. “Where’s Isabelle?”
“Kitchen,” Kevin says.