“But I haven’t bought groceries for thirty people. I haven’t planned a menu for—”
“Oh, I took care of the planning part.” Vivien pulled out another piece of paper, this one covered in her precise handwriting. “Here’s the complete menu. I’ve upgraded a few things this year. The Sanders are used to a certain standard, you understand?”
I looked at the menu and felt the room start to spin slightly. Turkey with three different stuffings. Ham with pineapple glaze. Seven different side dishes. Four desserts, including a homemade pie crust for the pumpkin pie because store-bought just wouldn’t do. Homemade cranberry sauce. Fresh bread rolls.
“Vivien, this is… this is a lot for one person to handle.”
She waved her hand as if I’d mentioned something trivial, like a minor inconvenience with the weather.
“Nonsense. You’re perfectly capable. Besides, Hudson will be there to help.”
I looked at my husband, hoping to see some recognition in his eyes that what his mother was asking bordered on impossible. Instead, he was already back to scrolling through his phone.
“I’ll definitely help out,” he said without looking up. “I can carve the turkey and open wine bottles.”
Carve the turkey. Open wine bottles. That was his idea of help for a meal that would require approximately sixteen hours of active cooking time.
“What time should I start cooking?” I asked, though part of me already knew the answer would be unreasonable.
Vivien checked her expensive watch.
