Later that night, after Vivien had gone home and Hudson had fallen asleep, I sat at our kitchen table with a calculator, trying to figure out the logistics. The turkey alone would need to go in the oven at 6:00 a.m. to be ready by 2:00 p.m., but I’d need the oven space for other dishes. The math didn’t work. The timing was impossible.
I found myself staring at the guest list, really looking at it for the first time. Thirty-two people, but my name wasn’t on it. I was cooking for thirty-two people and I wasn’t even considered a guest at the dinner I was preparing.
That’s when I noticed something else. Hudson’s cousin Ruby wasn’t on the list. Ruby, who had been coming to family Thanksgiving for years. Ruby, who had recently gotten divorced and was having a hard time.
I picked up my phone and called her.
“Isabella, it’s kind of late. Is everything okay?”
“I was just wondering… are you coming to Thanksgiving this year?”
There was a long pause.
“Well, Vivien called last week. She said that since I’m single now and going through such a difficult time, maybe it would be better if I spent the holiday somewhere more appropriate for my situation. She suggested I might be more comfortable at a smaller gathering.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
“She uninvited you?”
“She didn’t put it that way, but yes, I guess she did.”
