MAGGIE

Thanksgiving

“Deck the halls with bells of holly,” Mila sings at the top of her lungs. “Fa-la-la-la-la—”

“Boughs,” I correct, wincing as the shrill shrieking comes to a halt. “Deck the halls with boughs of holly.”

“Really?” Mila’s nose wrinkles. “I think it sounds better the way I sing it.”

Continuing on her merry little way, Mila grabs a small bag of tinsel from the storeroom where we keep our off-season decorations and carries them to the lounge. We’ve got a freshly cut evergreen set up in there, just waiting for eager hands to rest bells on its branches and stockings by the fire.

The weather has cooperated, whipping up a chilly day outside, the threat of snow imminent. I pause at the front door, leaning outside to sniff. “Smells like snow,” I say, grinning as I turn back to find Emily balancing a tray of burnt orange goblets on one hand. “Need some help?”

“Nah, just cracking open the bubbly a little early. Jax is putting the final touches on the turkey, so we should be good to eat in just a few minutes.”

“Mila,” I call to her. “Wash up! Almost time for dinner!”

“But Jess isn’t here yet.” She appears in the doorway, a frown turning her lips upside down. “At school, she told me she was still planning to come.”

I shrug, not allowing myself to think of Tyler. Today is a holiday—a pity-party free day for me. “Maybe her plans changed and her mother came to town.”

“Her mom is dumb,” Mila says. “She never comes to town. Why does she have to come now?”

“Mila,” I say sharply. “We don’t say things like that. Ever.”

“Sorry,” she says, twisting her hands meekly before her body. “I didn’t mean she’s dumb, I just meant that it’s not fair. Anastasia never wants to see Jess. Today, I want to see Jess.”

“We can’t be selfish,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Thanksgiving is about being grateful for what we have. Just think—you get to see Jess almost every day. Sometimes, you get to see her a few times a day. Now, if her mother wants to spend the holiday with her, don’t you think it’s fair she gets to do that?”

“I guess.”

“Do you think you could try to be happy for Jess if that’s what happened?” I ask. “She’s probably very excited to see her mom.”

Mila shrugs. “Probably more excited to see her dad. He should be coming back soon, too.”

My blood freezes and, despite my promise to myself, I wonder aloud. “What do you mean by that?”

“He went back to New York to do some business things. That’s what Jess says. He’s coming back here, though, to live. That’s why she’s not too sad.”

“To live...”

“To live forever. Which is why I’m not sad either, and I guess Jess can spend today with her mom—since we’ll be friends forever.” Mila contemplates this in her six-year-old mind. “Forever is a long time. Thanksgiving is one day. Maybe we can have her over and show her the tree tomorrow.”

“Sure, sure,” I say, standing, not hearing a word she said.

Tyler’s coming back here to live? Forever?

I press a hand to my chest as my breathing speeds up. His calls have dwindled somewhat, but they haven’t stopped. Every night at nine thirty he still calls and leaves a message. I’ve never listened to one of them—I can’t bring myself to hit the Play button, despite knowing I’m being ruthless and stubborn. It would hurt too much. I needed a clean break.

I wonder if Mila’s misheard something, or if maybe his plan is still temporary—stay for a while, until Jessica finishes the semester. It’s tough to switch mid-school year, I reason. Surely that’s what’s happening.

Mila’s buzzing to wash her hands while Jax is shouting for all the inn to hear that the food is ready.

“Come get it while it’s hot,” he yells. “I’m carving the turkey in four minutes, and if you’re not sitting down by then...”

“Maggie?” Emily’s voice is soft. “Are you coming?”

She finds me standing at the front door, the threat of snow dancing around us as the wind bites at my nose and licks at my cheek. Somehow, the frigid chill is fitting, and I welcome the painful gusts.

“Y-yes,” I say, taking a step back. “Sorry, I was just thinking—”

“Oh, there they are!” Emily chirps, waving a hand over my shoulder. “I was wondering if they’d show.”

My heart nearly stops at her words, but the thump resumes once I recognize the car. Jess’s grandparents’ vehicle. “That’s them,” I say. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away, counting as everyone steps out.

Her grandfather, her grandmother, Jess...

The doors to the vehicle shut.

I don’t know why I expected someone else to get out of that car—a large figure, maybe, dressed in a perfect suit with a crooked little smile and a big, cocky stance. A man whose shoulders are broad and defined, whose stubble is rough against my skin. A man who isn’t here, I remind myself.

“Maggie?” Emily asks. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“Fine!” I manage in a falsely high voice as the company approaches. “Sorry, daydreaming for a moment.”

“Don’t think about Tyler today,” Emily says, and I flinch. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help saying his name—he’s Jess’s father. You’re going to run into him again, so long as the girls are classmates and friends. I’m just trying to prepare you for that moment.”

“Really, it’s fine,” I murmur. “Moment of weakness.”

Emily doesn’t look convinced, but as the guests approach, our conversation fades to the background as we welcome the three newcomers into the warm inn, out of the cold, with big hugs and rosy cheeks.

Mila spins around the corner, screeching with excitement as she envelops Jess in a hug. Jess, usually resigned, squeezes her right back, and the two girls dance giddy off to the dining room.

“Thanks so much for having us,” Mrs. Daniels says. “We were going to do a small dinner at our place once...well, once our plans changed, but I know Jessica was really looking forward to spending the day with Mila. And Brandon is very excited for some more of Jax’s cooking. It’s been too long since we stopped by for a bite to eat. Is your mother here, too?”

“Actually, she’s helping out at church with her friends, but I assure you...” I pause dramatically with a grin at Tyler’s father. “Jax outdid himself this year. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with the meal.”

Emily leads the way, and I can hear the sound of her seating everyone around the table, dishing out goblets of drinks, plates of eats, and endless rounds of side dishes and desserts. The noise beckons me, a friendly, familial call, but I hesitate for just a second longer.

I stand in the front door and, before my eyes, watch as the first snowflake of the year swirls down in a lazy spiral, landing in a fat little puddle on my hand.

I wait for more, anxious for a coating of white to blanket the earth.

But it appears there’s no more snow in store for the day, at least for now.

As I glance out at the empty road to the inn, I realize with startling clarity that nobody else will be coming to dinner.