As soon as Jennifer walks into the kitchen, she understands what’s off. Isabelle is standing at the stove, basting the turkey. It’s a light golden brown with a puff of savory stuffing at the cavity. Jennifer likes to put everything but the kitchen sink in her stuffing—sausage, pine nuts, dried cherries—but Isabelle is a stuffing purist. She uses only onion, celery, thyme, and sage. She also puts white wine in her gravy—lots and lots of wine.
“Hey, you,” Jennifer says. She lays a hand on Isabelle’s back and kisses her cheek. “Everything smells très bon.”
She feels the muscles of Isabelle’s back tense under her silk blouse, and although Jennifer knows it’s crazy, as they’re standing directly in front of the oven, a chill comes off Isabelle. It’s the icy pocket that Jennifer felt earlier.
Isabelle turns around and seems to address Ava, Mitzi, and Margaret—but not Jennifer—in French. Something about “le bébé.” She returns the turkey to the oven and dashes up the back stairs.
Jennifer feels stung. She hesitates before turning to face the rest of the women in Patrick’s family, but when she does, no one seems to notice anything amiss. Ava is opening a bag of marshmallows; she has been put in charge of the sweet potatoes. Margaret is pouring a glass of wine; she has been assigned appetizers, which Jennifer is sure she brought up from Dean & DeLuca. And Mitzi is perusing her spice rack.
“Where are my cloves?” she says.
Ava throws Jennifer a quick look. “You could try making the cider without cloves this year, Mitzi.”
Jennifer nearly asks if Isabelle seems okay. Maybe she has postpartum depression. Maybe she is annoyed that while everyone else in the family has been given cushy assignments—salads, cheese and crackers, a vegetable or two—she has been left with the heavy lifting, the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and three kinds of pie. As though she’s still the help!
But Jennifer knows what’s really wrong. It’s Norah Vale. Isabelle saw Jennifer talking to and hugging Norah Vale.
Kelley makes an entrance fifteen minutes before dinner is served. When his hospice nurse Lara pushes Kelley into the room in his wheelchair, everyone cheers. Patrick takes over for Lara and encourages her to help herself to the artichoke dip, the smoked oysters, and the tapenade. To Lara’s credit, she digs in and asks the score of the Cowboys game.
Hospice nurses are people too! Jennifer thinks.
She is on her third glass of wine.
The last time Jennifer went into the kitchen for a refill, Isabelle was at the stove making gravy, and Mitzi was out on the side porch smoking a cigarette.
“Do you need any help, Isabelle?” Jennifer asked.
“Non,” Isabelle said.
Kelley can still talk—slowly—and he can eat a few bites of food. He asks for a smoked oyster. Genevieve is awake from her nap, and when she sees Grandpa eating a smoked oyster, she asks for one as well.
Jennifer turns to Patrick and says, “I have ten bucks that says she spits it out.”
There’s an angry whisper in Jennifer’s ear. “Ma fille est Fran?aise.”
It’s Isabelle, who is standing next to Jennifer while Genevieve pops the oyster into her mouth, swallows it happily, and asks for another.
Isabelle picks up people’s empty glasses, crumpled napkins, and the cheese platter, which has been all but demolished.
Jennifer says, “You shouldn’t have to do that, Isabelle. You’re doing too much as it is. Let me help you.”
“Non,” Isabelle says. Her voice is like a warning shot, but no one else in the family notices. They are too busy celebrating the two oyster eaters. And that, Jennifer supposes, is as it should be.
Jennifer goes up to lasso the boys, and when they come down, everyone is moving toward the table. The TV has been turned off and replaced with Vivaldi. The table sparkles with fine china, crystal, and candlelight. In the center of the table is a horn of plenty, spilling forth gourds and tiny pumpkins, lady apples, pecans and walnuts in the shell. Jennifer snaps a quick picture with her phone as she wonders who arranged it. She couldn’t have done it better herself.
Kelley is seated at the head of the table as always. Jennifer finds herself between Allegra and Drake—or In-Law Alley, as she likes to think of it. Isabelle is all the way across the table in the seat closest to the kitchen.
Isabelle glowers at Jennifer, then disappears into the kitchen. She reappears with the turkey, which she sets in front of Kevin. They have agreed that Kevin will carve and Patrick will say the blessing.
Patrick stands and raises his glass. “Our family has so much to be grateful for that it’s difficult to know where to start. This time last year I was in San Francisco with Jennifer and the boys, and my baby brother was still missing in Afghanistan. Bart has now been returned to us safely, and I know we are all grateful for that. Kevin and Isabelle have grown not only their business but also their family. Ava has moved to New York and has started a new job. My mother capped off sixteen years as the voice of this great nation and now, I know, hopes to put her considerable talents to even more noble pursuits. I believe I speak for all of us, Mom, when I say how proud we are of you.”
Margaret bows her head and smiles at her plate.
“But mostly, today, I am grateful for the man who brought us all here together. Dad, you brought me and Kevin and Ava to this island when we were at impressionable ages. You married Mitzi, bought the inn, and gave us a little brother. You had moments when you were tough, stubborn, and sometimes a real jerk. But not a day passed while I was growing up that I didn’t feel loved. It’s only now that I have three sons of my own that I can appreciate what an admirable job you did with us. I would like to thank God for this meal, and for this home, and for all of us at this table. But above all, I would like to express my gratitude, now and forever, that you are my father.”
“Amen,” Bart says.
“Amen,” Jennifer whispers.
Ava wipes tears away with her napkin. “No maudlin toasts,” she says. “Weren’t you on the group text?”
And everyone laughs.
The meal passes pleasantly, and Jennifer’s sense of unrest fades a bit. Isabelle is up and down and in and out of the kitchen until Kevin makes her sit down to eat. Everyone praises Jennifer’s salads, and Jennifer, in turn, raves about the sweet potatoes and Mitzi’s fiesta cranberry sauce, but mostly she praises Isabelle’s turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy.
It’s like Isabelle doesn’t hear her. She doesn’t respond.
But no one at the table notices! Everyone is talking about next weekend, Christmas Stroll, and how Eddie Pancik, Allegra’s father, has people lined up to look at the inn. Apparently, there are already a few interested buyers.
Patrick raises the question that Jennifer knows has been plaguing him. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do with the sale proceeds, Mitzi? Buy another house here?”