Five

Amanda from HR waited nervously for Tess outside Jake’s office. Tess visited with her briefly, went over the paperwork for the generous severance package, and apparently reassured her enough that she didn’t call security to have Tess escorted immediately from the building. Instead, Tess went to her department, where her boss had a banker’s box waiting for her. He told her they were calling it the Bensler Thanksgiving Massacre. No one was quite sure just who the turkeys would turn out to be—those who got the ax or those who stayed. She appreciated his effort and thanked him for being a good team leader, then she cleaned out her desk and said her good-byes. She managed to keep it together until she left the building.

Barely.

She was scared.

Security was important to her. Security meant everything. That’s what happened when you never had a father and your mother died when you were six, and adoptions fell through because of do-gooders doing bad things.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap oh crap. She was out of work. Laid off. Unemployed. Jobless.

What was she going to do?

“It’ll be okay,” she told herself as she retraced her steps from an hour ago—or was it a year ago—through the garage. “Everything will be okay.”

It would, truly. She had savings. Bensler had offered a more than generous settlement. She dug in her purse for her key fob as her temper spiced the soup of fear and grief sloshing around inside. She added, “After all, I don’t have a mortgage to worry about.”

She jabbed the button to pop open the trunk. Now the tears she’d managed to stave off began to flood her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away. Tess didn’t necessarily cry when she was sad, but she couldn’t hold them back when she got angry. She hated it.

She was angry now. Furious. Not at Jake. She’d have made the same decision as he if their positions were reversed. She wasn’t even all that upset with Paul Franklin, though she disagreed with the direction in which he was leading the company. He got his marching orders from the Board of Directors. This was corporate life.

No, Tess was angry at her old nemesis—call it fate or bad luck or destiny—she didn’t know or care. Whatever the name of this force sitting behind the wheel of her life bus, it needed to find another blasted vehicle to drive! Seriously, hadn’t she had enough?

Abruptly, her anger drained, leaving her sad and scared and—the worst part—lonely.

Too often lonely. Story of her life. Because she’d focused on work, her social life did, too. Almost all her friendships revolved around work. That had been something she’d hoped to change once she had a home. She’d planned to establish herself in the neighborhood, to volunteer for the schools or Little League teams or dog rescue groups and expand her circle. She hadn’t figured she’d run out of time. Would her friendships survive once the common bond of Bensler had been severed?

Maybe, but probably not. She’d seen it happen in the past when someone moved on from Bensler. Face it, more often than not, work friendships were just that. Once the commonality of work was removed, the friendship languished.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be that way, does it?” she murmured, reaching deep within herself to find a glimmer of positivity. She set the banker’s box that her immediate superior had given her for her personal items into her trunk and told herself she shouldn’t give up before she even got started. She might have missed out on having the since-childhood lifelong friend she craved, but she was still young. She could meet someone today who would still be her friend in fifty or sixty years. It could happen. She just needed to open herself to the possibilities.

“Tess? Tess, wait!”

Jake. She swallowed a groan. Now what? Had she dropped another tampon? Could this day be more humiliating?

She knew better than to dream that Jake Prentice might be the friend she craved. Fate had never been that kind to her.

She did not want him to catch her with tears in her eyes. She had left his office with the perfect parting shot. She’d been so proud of it! Now he was going to ruin it by catching her crying. Why couldn’t he leave her be? What was he doing here in the garage? Didn’t he have more lives to ruin today?

“Tess, hold up.”

Grrr. She closed her trunk, pasted on a closed-lips smile, and turned to face him. “Hello again.”

“I’m glad I caught you. I tried your phone, but…”

“I’d already turned it in.”

“Yeah. Ron had it. He answered when I called. He told me you’d just left the department.”

Tess waited. She was seeing another side of Jake Prentice today. Ordinarily, he was calm, cool, and collected. The ultimate professional. She’d watched him make presentations and work deals in high-stakes circumstances and never break a sweat. Today, the man was shaken. Well, welcome to the club.

“Did I leave something behind in your office?” Besides my career. My pride. “My breath mints, maybe? They rolled out of my purse?”

“What? Oh no. No. I have something I want to give you.” He pulled a card from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. His card—the second one today—with a name, the name of a firm, and a phone number scrolled on the back. “I thought of Steve after you left the office. I gave him a call and told him a little bit about you. He’d like to hear from you. I know you’ll be thinking about the big shops. You’ll be a prize for whoever you choose to work with, but before you make your decision, I think you should reach out to Steve. It’s a small boutique firm, but they do some awesome projects that would be right up your alley.”

“Oh.” Tess stared down at the card in her hand. He’d done this? He was in trouble with his mother and on his way to catch a flight halfway across the world, but he’d taken time to job hunt for her? He really was a superior supervisor.

He’s not going to last much longer working for Paul Franklin.

“Thank you, Jake. This is really nice of you to do. I’ve heard the buzz about Innovations Design. I will look into this. I appreciate your help. A lot. Thank you.”

He nodded. “Good. Good. Well, glad I caught you. I was afraid if I waited until after I got back from my trip, you’d already have a job.”

“It’s Thanksgiving, Jake. Nobody’s hiring this week.”

He gestured toward the card in her hand. “You don’t know that. Think positive, Crenshaw. I’m a big believer in the power of positive thinking.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. So putting my money where my mouth is…and since it’s the week of making mouths happy…how about reconsidering that Thanksgiving dinner invitation? Gobble gobble?”

Tess couldn’t believe she was doing it, but she laughed. “I take it you haven’t spoken with your mother yet?”

“No, she didn’t answer her phone.”

“Ah. I appreciate the effort, but I’m still going to pass.”

“Oh well. I had to try.” He started backing away. “I’d better get going. Plane to catch. People to ruin. Good-bye, Tess. I’ve enjoyed working with you. I hope we’ll get to do it again someday.”

“I’d like that,” Tess replied. She meant it.

When she slid behind the wheel of her car a few moments later, her tears had disappeared. The anger was gone. The fear was banked. She might even have had a little glimmer of excitement flickering in her heart.

At that moment, she actually felt sorrier for Jake than she did for herself. After being head executioner at the Bensler Thanksgiving Massacre, he had to break the heart of his world champion mother and travel halfway around the world for the job.

“Sucks to be you today, Jake,” she murmured as she started her car. It sounded like his mom’s day wouldn’t be any better, which was a real shame. Tess really liked the woman’s cookies.

I wonder if her turkey is as good.

*  *  *

Genevieve and her sister sat in chairs set around the gas-fueled fire pit at the center of Genevieve’s backyard living space. It was a beautiful spot with a swimming pool, spa, and outdoor kitchen separated from the golf course by a simple iron fence. They sat silently sipping their cocktails, watching the golfers, while Genevieve stewed about her eldest daughter.

She loved all her children deeply, and in her heart of hearts, she believed she loved them equally. Differently, but equally. Each child was special to her in their own way, each similarly a trial.

But of the four, Genevieve had always been closest to Willow. She’d been a mama’s girl from the day she was born, and that hadn’t changed until Genevieve made what she’d come to refer to as her Great Misstep. Helen called it her Royal Eff Up.

Genevieve hadn’t liked the man Willow chose to marry. She hadn’t liked him the first time Willow brought him home to meet the family. Something about Andy Eldridge had felt squirrelly to Genevieve. He raised her hackles and her protective maternal antennae. Then, in one of her top ten instances of poor mothering, she hadn’t taken her time to carefully choose her words, and she’d been too blunt. Willow reacted by digging in her heels, and they’d argued. For many months, Genevieve had thought that her daughter continued to date Andy to spite her rather than out of a desire to be with him.

Time had proved Genevieve wrong. Andy won her over. Genevieve recognized that she’d been wrong, not just about Andy, but about the way she’d try to helicopter parent her college-age daughter. She’d apologized to both Andy and Willow numerous times and did her level best to make it up to them. Andy let bygones be bygones. Willow said she had. Nevertheless, except for a handful of precious occasions, mother and daughter had never again enjoyed the closeness they’d once routinely shared.

Genevieve mourned it.

She didn’t understand why, over a decade later, Willow couldn’t move on. Unless something else was going on here. Something Genevieve didn’t know her daughter well enough anymore to know. That possibility broke her heart.

She’d polished off half of her Bloody Mary before she summoned the energy to ask Helen, “Did Willow tell you why she’s willing to go to such lengths to avoid me? I’ve been widowed, too. I understand what she’s going through. I can help her. It tears me up that she won’t let me help her.”

Helen shrugged. “I don’t know what to say, Gen. She didn’t tell me anything that made sense.”

“I hate that she’s keeping the children from me.”

“Oh, honey. I know it probably feels that way, but I don’t think that’s what she’s doing. I think she’s, well, lost.”

Genevieve blinked back tears. “I miss her. I miss the kids. Outside of my regular FaceTime with the children, I’m lucky to speak with Willow three times a month. Do you think she’s still holding the Andy thing against me? It’s been over ten years! I don’t believe what I did was unforgivable. Do you?”

“No. Clumsy, yes. Understandable, yes. Unforgivable, no.”

“Words have such fearsome power. I can’t change what I said or how I acted, but I apologized. She knows how sorry I was, I am. I tried to make it up to them both. I wish she’d find some forgiveness in her heart. She needs to forgive. That goes for her brothers, too. What is wrong with my children, Helen? Why can’t they forgive and forget and move on?”

“Oh, honey. That’s a good question.”

“I want to bang their heads together and shake some sense into them. Where did all this coldness and anger and hate come from?”

“Love, that’s where. These wounds in your family are deep because the battle was waged between people who deeply love one another.”

“I don’t know. I’m beginning to think they’re not just deep wounds. They are fatal ones.”

“No. They just need more time to heal.”

“Well, tick-tock. I’m getting old.” Genevieve took a crunchy bite from her celery stick. “The sands of my hourglass might run out at the rate they’re going. I’m draining pretty darn fast. Feel like I’m down to my last few grains.”

“Nah. Your hourglass has plenty of sand left in it. You can’t go anywhere until you go to Salzburg with me.”

Genevieve smiled and gave her sister a sidelong look. Helen sang the first line of the first stanza of “Maria” from The Sound of Music. Genevieve followed with the second. Helen continued with the third, spilling a small portion of her drink when she used both hands to illustrate curlers in her hair. Genevieve giggled her way through the last line of the stanza and would have stopped there, but Helen was on a roll.

The sisters sang the entire song and finished the final note with their glasses raised and an arm draped around each other’s shoulders. On the tee box, a foursome of fifty-something-year-old men clapped. Helen sprang to her feet and took a bow.

“We need a refill,” Genevieve said, using it as an excuse to slink, embarrassed, into the house.

Helen followed her, laughing. “You know, you and your talk about sand running out. We don’t have an excuse for not taking that trip we’ve promised ourselves all of our lives.”

“Not our whole lives.” Genevieve dumped the ice from her glass and from Helen’s into the sink, then carried them to the freezer for a refill. “I was twelve when we watched The Sound of Music together the first time it was shown on TV.”

“Whatever. Long enough.” Helen played bartender, mixing a second cocktail for each of them. “Inside or out?”

Genevieve considered. The foursome should be done hitting their tee shots by now. “Out.”

Moments later, they’d resumed their seats. Genevieve took a long sip and tried to recall the last time she’d done any day drinking. She couldn’t.

Oh, yes she could. It had been the middle of September when she’d called Willow and mentioned making a trip to Nashville. Her daughter had asked her not to come. Genevieve had poured a glass of scotch after that particular phone call.

“I must have done something to upset her when Andy died and it stirred up all of the old hurts. But I haven’t the first clue about what I did wrong.”

Her sister, because she was her sister, picked up the thread of the conversation. “I assume you’ve tried asking Willow?”

“Of course. Half a dozen times. She denies there’s anything wrong. Inevitably after I ask what’s going on, she’ll make an effort to call a time or two, but then it’s soon back to radio silence.” Genevieve folded her arms and added, “I can’t believe she didn’t call me about Thanksgiving and left you to do her dirty work.”

“Well, I remember something you said to me dozens of times after David died. People grieve in different ways on their own timelines. With that in mind, perhaps you should cut her some slack.”

“I do. I have been. I went to Tennessee when Willow asked me to, stayed for as long as she asked, left when she asked, didn’t return because she asked me not to return. But grieving doesn’t give you a free pass to throw manners out the window or treat those who love you with complete disrespect. Willow has the right to grieve however she wants, but I have the right to be hurt when her actions wound.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m concerned about her mental health.”

“She talks to Brooke, doesn’t she? Brooke has been out to see her.”

“She has.” That both reassured Genevieve and made her feel worse. It hurt her feelings.

The sisters sat in silence for a bit, sipping their drinks and watching another foursome tee off. Then Genevieve gave her head a shake. “I can’t think about this anymore. Tell me about life in Lake in the Clouds. What new and exciting things have you been up to?”

“Well, I’m thinking about going back to work.”

That popped Genevieve’s brooding balloon. She sat up straight and turned a shocked gaze toward her sister. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re what? The woman who literally burned her briefcase on her last day of work?”

“I gave it a Viking funeral. Work is probably not the best descriptive term. I’m done practicing law. This is more of a project. There’s a piece of property up for sale that is calling my name. Raindrop Lodge and Cabins Resort. Look.”

Helen pulled her phone from the pocket of her sweater, navigated to the photos, and handed the device to Genevieve. “It’s a fixer-upper, which is the part of the project that I find appealing. Look at the property, Gen. It’s right on Mirror Lake. The mountain views are breathtaking—beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately, pictures don’t do it justice.”

“You are full of surprises, sister. I thought your retirement goal was to kick back and relax and read your way down your to-be-read pile.”

“It is. That’s what I’m doing, and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. But I’m finding that I’m a little bored. I need a project. I know that’s something you understand.”

Genevieve did understand. Projects were her wheelhouse. She always had one or twelve going. She scrolled through the photos. “I love the bones of the lodge.”

“Me, too. The interior has a lot to work with, too. I wish I’d taken photos of the inside to show you. You could give me some ideas. There’s a huge stone fireplace that takes up one entire wall. It’s fabulous. And there’s an awesome antique bar the owner said originally came from a saloon in one of the mining towns in the area. It’s a hodgepodge of styles and needs a total makeover, but I can see the possibilities. I’ve already picked out a couple places for clocks. You know me and cuckoo clocks.”

Genevieve smiled. “Now I get it. This isn’t a potential business concern. It’s a reason for retail therapy.”

“I like to shop. Retirement should be about doing things you like to do.”

“You’re right about that.” Genevieve handed the phone back to her sister. “So if you buy this place, you’ll oversee the renovation? Will you flip it when that’s done?”

“Probably. I don’t see myself as an innkeeper. It’s possible I could keep it and hire someone to run it. I met the nicest woman who owns a small resort in a town a couple of hours away from Lake in the Clouds, and she’s offered to mentor me through the process. Next time you come to visit, I’ll take you to Eternity Springs to meet her and see her place. She started out by renovating a Victorian mansion and opening a B and B. She’s added all sorts of amenities over the years. Some of the cutest cabins. One is built like a castle. Very Disney-esque. The spa is first class. It’s a wildly successful boutique resort.”

“That sounds right up my alley. I like spa trips even more than you like cuckoo clocks.” Genevieve stirred her Bloody Mary with the celery stick, took another sip, and then said, “Your voice rings with enthusiasm when you talk about this lodge, Helen. I think you should go for it.”

“I might. I just don’t know. It’s a big project, and I’m a little afraid that I’d be biting off more than I can chew.” Helen gave her sister a considering look and said, “You know, Gen, Raindrop Lodge would be a good sisters’ project.”

Surprised, Genevieve reared back. “Project? Helen, our biggest sisters’ project was the fund-raiser for your dog rescue group. That was a project. This would be a commitment.”

“Okay, then. A sisters’ commitment. Seriously, Genevieve, I’m thinking you could use something new and exciting yourself.”

“Yes, like an antiquing trip. Or a sisters’ trip to Europe. I think you’re right. We really should go to Salzburg and do The Sound of Music tour.”

“Yes!” Helen pumped her fist. “And if I do purchase the lodge, we can go antiquing while we’re there. I’ll buy clocks! I say we take the trip no matter what I decide about the resort.”

“That does sound lovely.”

“Let’s put it on our calendars. Let’s do it now.” Helen rose from her seat. “I don’t want you to weenie out on me.”

“I won’t weenie out.”

“I know because we’re going back inside right now so you can get out your calendar.”

Genevieve knew how difficult it was to argue with her sister when Helen spoke in that tone of voice. The best way to stop this train would be to tell Helen about the biopsy, and she’d wanted to wait until she had the results to do that. Otherwise, all her sister would do was worry. “I’m not ready to commit to something as big as our sisters’ trip today. How about we start with that visit to your innkeeper friend’s place?”

“Deal. But we book it today.”

Genevieve stood and led her sister indoors and upstairs to the bedroom she used as an office. Ten minutes later, they had reservations for two nights in December at a place called Angel’s Rest Healing Center and Spa.

Less than a minute after Helen ended the call to Eternity Springs, Genevieve’s landline rang. She glanced down at the number on the screen. “It’s Willow.”

“I’ll be downstairs.” Helen gave Genevieve’s hand a comforting pat then exited the room.

Genevieve realized that she didn’t want to talk to her daughter. She wanted to let the call go to voice mail. But that would only prolong the inevitable.

That wouldn’t do, either, so bracing herself, Genevieve answered the call. “Hello, Willow.”

“Hi, Mom.”

Willow’s voice sounded tense and subdued.

“Am I calling at a good time?”

The photo of a welcoming Victorian mansion with porch rockers and a darling angel’s wing logo disappeared from Genevieve’s monitor as she closed her web browser. She rose from her seat and stepped toward the window that overlooked her backyard and the golf course beyond. “I always have time to talk to you. You know that.”

“Yes, I know.”

“How are my blessings doing?”

“The kids are fine. Drew’s class is doing a program at school this afternoon. He has a speaking part so he’s been running around the house repeating his lines for days.”

“Oh, how fun. Wish I could be there to see it. Promise you’ll take a video of it and send it to me.”

“I will.”

“And Emma?”

“She’s good. She’s decided her favorite thing is to wear a Tupperware bowl on her head.”

“You used to do that, too.”

“I did?” Willow hesitated, and Genevieve sensed she was working up to drop her bombshell.

Genevieve could let her off the hook and tell her that Helen had already provided the heads-up, but her own heart was too bruised for her to want to make this easier for her daughter. So she waited, her gaze following the progress of a red squirrel climbing the trunk of the huge cottonwood tree just beyond her property line.

“Mom, I need to tell you, I’m sorry, but I can’t…we can’t…” Willow exhaled a heavy breath, then said, “We won’t be there for Thanksgiving.”

“So I understand. Your Aunt Helen arrived about an hour ago.”

Willow whispered a curse. “She’s earlier than I thought.”

“Yes, it was a lovely surprise. She couldn’t wait to join our family for the holiday.”

“Mo-om.”

Maybe Genevieve was being a bit passive-aggressive, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Look, Mom, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I know how much the holidays mean to you. I know that you’ve been hoping that everyone could put aside what happened with the fight about the ranch and Poppy’s will and be a family again, but the bottom line is that this is not a good time for me and the children to come to Texas. I need to put my family first.”

“Why is cutting yourself off from our family best for you? Can you explain that to me?”

“I’m not cutting myself off.”

“Aren’t you?”

“I need time, Mom. When I promised to come to Thanksgiving, I thought I was ready. I’m not. We’re not. Maybe next year.”

“So you are ruling out coming home for Christmas for sure?”

“I’m taking the kids to Disney.”

Disney. They’re going to Disney for Christmas. “I thought we were going to take them over the Presidents’ Day holiday.” Together.

“They can go again.”

But it won’t be their first time. Genevieve had long dreamed about taking her grandchildren to Disney World for the very first time. And Willow knew that!

Being brutally honest, Genevieve could understand why her daughter might want to skip family time this holiday season. This ongoing war between Lucas and Jake made get-togethers tense and unpleasant, and none of them looked forward to spending time with Brooke’s husband. While she expected everyone to be on their best behavior, Genevieve had prepared by buying two extra bottles of antacids.

But a Disney trip at Christmas? That was a jab at Genevieve that had nothing to do with Willow’s brothers or her sister’s bad marriage. It was cruel, and it made Genevieve want to curl up in a ball and cry.

Instead, Genevieve stiffened her spine and squared her shoulders. She turned away from the window and spoke in a brisk tone. “All right then. We will miss you. Please give the children my love. I hope they’ll FaceTime as usual on Saturday morning. I need to let you go now. Helen and I are putting the holiday table together. Bye.”

“Mom—”

Genevieve disconnected the call, returned the phone to its base, then swiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. Head held high, she walked downstairs to find her sister standing on the step stool in front of the baker’s pantry shelves. Genevieve met Helen’s compassionate gaze, pasted on a smile, and said, “Well, that was a kick in the balls.”

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Genevieve shrugged. “It is what it is. So I guess you’ve decided it’s table time?”

“Yes. I figured you needed a little dish therapy right about now. Are you using chargers this year?”

“Yes, those russet-colored ones on the third shelf.”

“How many?”

“We’ll be only five this year. The two of us, Brooke and Travis and Jake.”

“Seriously? What about neighbors and friends from church? You always invite a crowd, Genevieve.”

“Not this year, I didn’t. I really wanted a family affair this year. I thought that maybe without other guests to serve as a buffer, my kids might actually talk to one another.”

“Or else it would be the most awkward holiday meal in history.”

“Prentice family history anyway,” Genevieve agreed. “Still, I thought it was worth a shot.” Sadness settled over her like a raincloud. This would be the smallest Thanksgiving gathering she’d hosted in, well, longer than she could recall.

Helen handed down the chargers and then moved on to Genevieve’s wedding dishes, a Leclair Limoges pattern in ivory porcelain with swirls and scalloped edges bounded in gold. As Genevieve set dessert plates next to dinner plates and bread-and-butter plates on the buffet, she observed, “My counselor says I need to give the kids time, to trust in the foundation of the family we built.”

“That sounds like good advice.”

“For someone in her forties, maybe, but I stare sixty in the mirror every morning.” Her thoughts once again strayed to the biopsy, and she added, “I don’t have an infinite amount of time. Sands through the hourglass, remember.”

“Oh, stop it. This isn’t a soap opera.”

“Wanna bet?”

“You’re still a spring chicken.”

“I’m an old mother hen with a brood of troublemaking chicks. I am out of patience, Helen. I’m so angry with them. All four of them.”

“Why?”

“Because this battle of theirs is damaging our family and they don’t care.”

“Now, Gen,” Helen chastised as she descended the step stool. “They care. You know your children love you, and I’m sure they love each other.”

“Well, apparently, love isn’t enough for them to stop acting like eight-year-old children and fix what’s wrong.” Genevieve picked up the chargers and began placing them around the table. “And since they’re adults, I can’t scold them and send them to their rooms. I can’t threaten to ground them or take away their allowance if they’re mean to their siblings again. I certainly can’t fall back on my favorite go-to: Mind me because I’m the mom, and I said so. No, I must measure my words and respect their independence and accept the fact that they are adults who make their own decisions.”

“True. That’s what one does when one’s children grow up.”

“I like being the boss better.”

“Most people do.” Helen picked up the dinner plates and walked around the table, setting them onto the chargers. “Look, Gen, you raised your children to be independent. You did a great job. Be proud of them.”

“I am proud of them. You can be proud and pissed at the same time, you know. The bottom line is that they are destroying my family over petty jealousies and childish retaliations and the inability and/or desire to find forgiveness in their hearts. I taught them better than that. Did they not listen at all during those Sunday mornings in church and Sunday school?”

“As I recall, Jake couldn’t keep his eyes open in church.”

“He was Pavlov’s dog. That boy sat down in a pew and started to snooze. That’s why I always made sure he sat next to me within reach of an elbow jab.”

Genevieve sighed, then lifted the stack of bread-and-butter plates. “It’s true that they’ve hurt one another, but that’s what siblings do. That’s family. No one has done anything unforgivable, so why can’t they put it behind them and move on? I’ve always taught them the importance of family, but they don’t seem to care about that now.”

“They care. They’re just wrapped up in themselves right now. That’s normal for young people their age.”

“Well, I’m tired of it. It’s gone on way too long.” Genevieve thought of Willow and her two grandchildren at home alone in Nashville. She thought about stressed-out, overworked Jake with his need to control everything and everyone in his world. She thought about lost and angry Brooke with her wreck of a marriage. And then there was Lucas—hotheaded and cluelessly insensitive despite his good heart. Ordinarily, Lucas had excellent instincts, but her family was still reeling from the chaos and destruction caused by the one time he let his hormones rule the day.

Genevieve met her sister’s gaze and declared, “They are making me miserable.”

“Now, Genevieve.”

“It’s true, Helen. They say time heals all wounds. What nobody mentions is that, in Chicklandia, while healing in the henhouse is happening over here—” She jerked one thumb to the right. “Over there—” She gestured left with her other thumb. “You might have a coyote nipping at the chicken wire. If he sneaks inside, you have bigger problems than pick-a-little talk-a-little in the brood. Soon you’re off to the great chicken coop in the sky, and you won’t be around if the family foundation finally does its work.”

“That might have been a reference to The Music Man, but I’m not certain. I don’t know that musical nearly as well as I do Sound of Music. What I do know is that this metaphor has gone off the rails. You’ve lost me.”

“Cheep. Cheep. Cheep.” Genevieve groaned, closed her eyes, and massaged her temples with her fingertips. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have to make sense. I’m an adult, too, you know.”

“Is this where you start acting like an eight-year-old?”

“I might. I just might. I can pout with the best of them.”

“You’re telling me, sister. Perfected the whine, too, as I recall. I’ll admit I was glad when you gave that up. Never cared for whiners.”

“Me, either.” Genevieve paused a moment, then asked, “Am I whining?”

“Afraid so, yes. A little bit.”

“I’m regressing. Sorry. This is what they’re turning me into—a whiny child. Next thing you know, I’ll look into the mirror, and instead of staring at sixty, I’ll look like one of my kids.”

“That could be a good thing, Gen. Your kids are all very attractive. I wouldn’t mind being a whiny bee if I could look thirty years younger. Silver linings, you know?”

Genevieve laughed. “You’re determined to kick me out of my mood, aren’t you?”

“Yep. You gotta let it go, Gen. For your own sanity, you need to listen to your therapist and let it go.”

“Which therapist? You or the vodka or the doctor I see twice a month on Tuesdays?”

“Sounds like you have the perfect team. No sense leaving anybody out.” Helen gestured toward the cabinets. “Waterford?”

“Yes. Water and wine goblets.” Genevieve opened the drawer in the buffet, which held her silver chest. She removed the heavy box, set it atop the cabinet, and flipped up the lid. She’d inherited her grandmother’s silver, while Mom’s set went to Helen. Lifting a knife, Genevieve traced its delicate curves and thought about her grandmother.

“Now there was a steel magnolia,” she murmured.

“Hmm?” Then Helen identified what Genevieve held in her hand. “Ah, Nana. Yes. Stronger than the both of us put together.”

Frideborg Brunzell had immigrated to the United States from Sweden at the ripe old age of sixteen. She’d arrived in America alone with less than fifty dollars in her pocket. She’d won a job as a housekeeper for a family in New York, married and buried her first husband, remarried, and moved to East Texas to farm cotton with her second husband. She’d borne Genevieve’s grandfather twelve children, only eight of whom survived to adulthood. Her husband died of a heart attack after learning that their eldest son had perished at Normandy Beach on D-Day. Genevieve’s mother had been Frideborg’s youngest.

“Nana would tell me to suck it up, Buttercup.”

“Not in those exact words, but yes, she would.”

“She’d do it in that Swedish-Texan drawl of hers.” Genevieve’s lips spread in a smile as she used the polish cloth tucked inside the silver case to give the knife a buff.

Helen laughed. “And she’d end her sentence with ‘yah?’ Every sentence was a question.”

Genevieve was smiling as she set silverware beside the plates on her table, thoughts of her grandmother and mother drifting through her mind like dandelion fluff in spring. “What I wouldn’t give to have one more holiday meal with Mom and Nana. And David and Dad, of course, but Mom and Nana would be in the kitchen helping us cook.”

“That would be grand, wouldn’t it? I like to think that they’re here with us in spirit, at least. Using their dishes and silver gives them a seat at the table with us.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Genevieve carefully placed a salad fork next to the dinner fork at the plate where Brooke would sit. “Since my girls would be happy using paper plates on holidays, my spirit is liable to end up spending my Thanksgivings and Christmases packed away in an attic.”

“At least you’ll be in one piece. I gave most of my things to Goodwill. No telling where all my stuff ended up. My spirit’s going to be dashing hither and yon all over the Metroplex.”

“Hither and yon, hmm?”

“I tell myself it’s a blessing in disguise because at least I’ll get my exercise. Want to keep my girlish ghostly figure.”

Genevieve laughed. “Speaking of blessings, it’s time I recall mine and remember why you and I are setting this table today. Thanksgiving is the time to count our blessings and give thanks. You are right. I’ve whined enough. I need to channel my inner Disney princess and let it go.”

Helen began humming the tune to the popular song from Disney’s movie Frozen. Genevieve continued setting her Thanksgiving table with a lighter heart and a smile on her face.

She’d just placed the final fork when a familiar tone played on her cell phone. “That’s Jake returning my call from this morning. At least I can count on him not to cause holiday drama.”

She picked up her phone and connected the call. “Hello, honey.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“I’m sorry I bothered you on a workday. Nothing to worry about. I just had a little pre-holiday meltdown. No big deal. Lucky for you, Aunt Helen arrived early and talked me off of the ledge.”

“Oh. Good. Aunt Helen’s there? Now?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. That’s really good. I’m so glad.”

Genevieve’s stomach sank to the floor. She knew her eldest. She knew that tone. Something was wrong.