“Does Sam know?”
My dad looked up at me. “Uh... I don’t know.” He frowned. “I hope so.”
Jesus. If he didn’t know, that meant Kate didn’t know. How would Kate respond to Sam’s ex and her daughter showing up for Thanksgiving dinner?
When I entered the kitchen, Sandra and Chelsea were talking with my mom. I looked over at Vivie, who was rolling out pie dough. She shrugged like she knew I was asking about Sam and Kate.
“Have you seen Sam?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
“We saw him when we came in,” Chelsea, Sandra’s five year-old-daughter, said, eating a cookie from a batch my mom made yesterday.
I looked over at my mother. She shrugged too. That had to mean that Sam hadn’t known Sandra would be here. He was probably upstairs trying to explain it to Kate now. I wondered how she’d take it.
“Vivie, can you let Sam know that these potatoes won’t peel themselves?” my mother asked my sister.
“Sure thing.” Vivie exited the kitchen. My mom led Chelsea to a room off the kitchen. A hundred plus years ago when the home was built, the room was for live-in servants, but since my parents’ help didn’t live-in, Mom used it as a craft room. She’d set up Thanksgiving crafts for Chelsea.
“Oh, my God.” Vivie rushed back in.
“What?” I asked.
She looped her arm through mine. “Come help me.” She dragged me out of the kitchen into the dining room, leaving Sandra alone.
“What’s going on, Vivie?”
“I didn’t want Sandra to overhear, but Kate and Sam are fighting in the foyer. She’s leaving.”
“Because of Sandra?”
“Who’s leaving?” my father asked, entering the dining room with a box of Thanksgiving decorations.
“Kate. She’s not happy that Sandra is here,” Vivie said.
“Surely, she knows she and Sam are done,” my father said.
Vivie arched a brow. “I know I wouldn’t like it if I was with a guy who spent Thanksgiving with his ex.”
“Can I help?” Sandra entered the dining room.
“Yes. Maybe you can deal with these. I’m going to find Juliana,” my father said.
Vivie and I looked at each other, feeling awkward about the whole thing. It was a reminder to me of how messy relationships could be.
We helped Sandra with the decorations, then Sandra went to check on Chelsea. When I entered the kitchen, Mom was busy with the turkey. I looked out in the sunroom where Sam was murderously peeling potatoes.
She shook her head. That couldn’t be good.
Later, Sam brought the peeled potatoes into the kitchen, getting ready to cut and boil them.
“You want some help?” I asked.
Sam shook his head. He wasn’t ready to talk so I left him alone.
Sam wasn’t able to make it to Thanksgiving. It killed me that Kate left. I hated how despondent Sam looked. I never, ever wanted to feel like he looked like he felt.
After dinner, I brought a bottle of scotch up to his room.
“I’ve got a bottle of scotch,” I said through the closed door.