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The Keating House, although significant, wasn’t quite big enough to host the entire Harvey Sisters’ families within its walls comfortably. This meant that the living area was something like a slumber party, with Nate and Melody stretched out on both couches and Donnie sleeping peacefully on a blow-up mattress. Around five in the morning on Thanksgiving Day, a half-drunk and dehydrated Casey paused in the doorway of the living room. She peered down at the three sleeping bodies and the leftover chaos of the cousin party, with multiple stacks of red solo cups and wine-tinged glasses and even a few shot glasses scattered about. Melody groaned in her sleep and tossed over on her side, taking a large chunk of brunette curls along with her. Casey hurried around them and dove into the soft light of the kitchen, where she brewed a pot of coffee and hovered again at the bay window, rubbing her palms together distractedly.
Sleep hadn’t come for her. She imagined it never would again.
“There’s a whole lot about your husband that you don’t know.”
The words rang through Casey’s mind as the coffee pot gurgled and spat. The words had opened up a vast ocean between herself and her husband. There was no telling how deep the lies went. There was no telling what other secrets lurked in the depths.
Since Max’s disappearance, Heather had struggled going out on the water, knowing that the ocean had ultimately taken his life. The ocean between Casey and Grant was a far different sort— yet it had a similar strength.
Had Casey ever believed that she and Grant told one another everything? No. She never had. It was essential to human relationships to keep something for yourself to not lose who you are. This was something she’d believed in totally, especially as she’d learned about her mother’s dedication to Adam Keating and how that had made her struggle. For this reason, Casey had been careful to nourish the small and unique moments of individuality she’d had, especially earlier in her career.
If a man flirted with Casey at work, she would have enjoyed it because it would have been a moment when she would be seen as an attractive individual rather than a member of a couple. When the kids had been a little bit older, she’d taken brief trips, all to herself, during which she’d dreamed up new architectural designs and lived in the imaginative echoing of her head. She’d told Grant he could take those alone times, too— but at that time, he hadn’t made his own money and probably, felt guilty about taking “time off.” Time off from what? He might have asked.
Perhaps it had been necessary when he’d discovered his way forward, for him to travel long and far if only to discover his true self again. But what had he kept from Casey over the years? Had he crossed the lines of fidelity? Had he fallen out of love?
These were difficult questions, especially at five-fifteen in the morning on Thanksgiving.
Casey sipped from her mug of coffee as she toiled through her headache. Nicole stumbled into the kitchen at five forty-five and switched on the lights. She nearly jumped from her skin at the sight of Casey, there alone in the shadows of the kitchen.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still half asleep.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Casey replied with a shrug. “Can you turn off the lights?”
Nicole turned them off again and hovered in the soft light of the early morning with her arms dangling on either side of her. Her lips erupted with a yawn as she explained the frantic nature of the previous evening.
“I just can’t understand why everyone at the Eatery was out of their minds hungry the night before Thanksgiving, but we were stuffed to the gills till around ten-thirty at night. After that, we had everyone lying around until eleven-thirty. Luke had to kick everyone out at twelve-forty-five. I collapsed on my back in my chef whites.”
Casey laughed appreciatively and patted the space on the table across from her. “Take a load off. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“Thank goodness Heather made the rest of the pies,” Nicole noted as she shuffled toward the table.
Casey pressed her lips together, holding in the story of Heather’s initial pie crust failure. Nicole didn’t need more stress.
“What time is Grant getting in today?” Nicole asked as she suppressed another yawn.
“Around one or so, I think,” Casey lied. “But we shouldn’t wait for him if he doesn’t make it before the big meal. He said he’d grab leftovers.”
“All right. Well, that’s too bad. He really should have planned to get here last night,” Nicole said pointedly. “Plus, traveling on Thanksgiving can be so harried— all those grumpy people trying to get to their families in time.”
“I’ve seen Planes, Trains, and Automobiles if that’s what you’re referring to.” Casey was surprised she could still tease Nicole, despite the aching of her heart.
Nicole laughed. “I forgot about that. Remember how Aunt Tracy used to watch that every year?”
“She was obsessed with John Candy,” Casey said.
“Gosh, we should really make the kids watch it in her memory,” Nicole offered sadly. “I can’t believe how long she’s been gone now.” She furrowed her brow, then added, “I told you that the first time I ever met Uncle Joe was on Thanksgiving, right?”
Casey shook her head. “You didn’t. Was that when you snuck around, coming to Bar Harbor and telling us you were off somewhere else?” Casey had long since given up her anger surrounding Nicole’s departure from Portland to Bar Harbor. What did it matter, now? It had now become their home.
“Yes. Uncle Joe opened his world to me. I’ve never forgotten it,” Nicole murmured. “I’m trying to remember where you were. Probably Montana, right?”
Casey nodded as her eyes glistened with tears. “We often went to the ranch for Thanksgiving.”
“So Grant didn’t want to this year? Or you told him that we had to do it here? I mean, we’ve had quite the year. It’s important that we come together for this,” Nicole pointed out.
Casey hadn’t had any kind of conversation around it. She’d simply said, “I’m in Bar Harbor. Are you coming for Thanksgiving?” And he’d said, “Sure.”
“He gets it,” Casey told her.
Nicole nodded. “He always did. Gosh, I was envious of you two when you first had Melody and Donnie. A stay-at-home dad! Michael was such a jerk during those early years. I couldn’t get him to stay home with Abby and Nate to save my life. Not even so I could go get my haircut.”
Casey grumbled inwardly. Michael had been a scumbag of the highest order. When he’d left her and their children for a younger woman and run off to build a brand-new life with a brand-new baby, they hadn’t yet known that his actions had echoes of Adam Keating. How easy it was for men. Often, they aged like a fine wine and became even more enticing to young women, while the wives they left behind had to face the world armed only with night creams and whatever beauty treatments their wallets allowed for.
In Nicole’s case, of course, she had run off and built her beautiful career as head chef at Acadia Eatery. Beyond that, she’d recently became “friends” with the town’s greatest villain, Evan Snow, who frequently took her on dinner “non-dates” and called her to talk for hours.
A little while later, Heather joined them at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. Half-moon shadows beamed out from beneath her eyes as she told them that Kristine and Bella had gossiped with her late into the night about their recent boy troubles.
“I’m so glad they want to tell me everything,” Heather muttered. “But right now, I wish that ‘everything’ had a little less to it, so I could get some more sleep.”
“When you’re twenty-two, you don’t need sleep,” Casey affirmed, remembering her wild nights over her blueprints. “Your body is a well-oiled machine.”
“Not so well-oiled these days, I’m afraid,” Heather said with a laugh. “Although I guess some Bailey’s in the coffee might help.”
“It’s Thanksgiving, after all,” Nicole pointed out brightly as she leaped up and grabbed the Bailey’s from the fridge. “I was thinking I would get the cinnamon roll dough from the fridge and bake them for the kids and us.”
“Luke might stop by earlier if there are cinnamon rolls.” Heather’s eyes glittered with excitement.
“Oh?” Nicole made a funny noise in the back of her throat. “I forgot to mention, maybe, that Evan’s two eldest children won’t be able to make it for Thanksgiving. I told him and Maddy to come around whenever they like.”
Heather dropped a hand over her mouth, ever over-dramatic. These were not Casey’s genes, she recognized now with an inward laugh.
“What?” Nicole demanded of Heather.
Heather rolled her eyes excitedly. “Come on, Nicole. You’re having a guy over for Thanksgiving.”
“It’s just Evan Snow,” Nicole countered. “He almost destroyed the Inn a month ago.”
“Oh, he did not, and you know it,” Heather retorted. “He was instrumental in ensuring that we stayed open.”
Nicole’s cheeks flashed pink. Her cleansed hands drew out dollops of cinnamon roll dough, then folded and dropped them with a funny flop on the baking sheet. “I told you again and again. We’re just friends.”
“Kristine might have mentioned she saw you guys the other day,” Heather said as her voice lowered.
Nicole twisted herself around as her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
At this, Heather cackled until her body shook. “I’m just kidding! Kristine didn’t see anything. Although from your expression, I have to believe... that something did happen?”
Nicole turned back toward her dough and muttered, “Nothing happened. Nothing at all.”
Casey and Heather exchanged mischievous looks. Casey shook her head ever-so-slightly. It was best to tread lightly so as not to frighten Nicole. If she wanted to fall in love, she had to do it on her terms, slowly. It didn’t matter if the man in question was Evan Snow or the Easter Bunny. Casey and Heather had to be supportive.
Luke walked into the Keating House mere minutes after Nicole removed the first batch of cinnamon rolls from the oven. He pulled off his winter hat and spread out his arms wide in greeting, taking up the whole of the kitchen doorway.
“There they are! The Harvey Sisters! Happy Thanksgiving!” he cried.
“Are you drunk?” Casey teased.
“I am. Just a little,” Nicole shot back as she lifted the bottle of Bailey’s.
Heather leaped from the kitchen table and wrapped her arms around Luke’s chest as she gazed into his beautiful eyes. Casey’s heart thumped strangely in her chest. She felt like an extra in a film while her sisters had the major starring roles. She wasn’t even sure she would have a speaking part in this scene. Her character had nothing to do or say. She knew her insecurities were getting the best of her.
One by one, Nicole, Casey, and Heather’s children arose like zombies, grunting and scratching as they entered the kitchen to collect mugs of coffee and hot, gooey cinnamon rolls. Melody swept down to place a kiss on Casey’s cheek as Donnie tore off a large chunk of his sugary pastry with his teeth. He looked too much like his father when Casey met him, with his crooked smile and broad shoulders. When they’d journeyed to Montana together, Grant had been grateful that both Donnie and Melody had taken to horseback riding with zeal. Of Donnie, he’d said, “He’s even more of a natural than I ever was, I swear.” Casey had wondered at the time if there was regret tied up in Grant’s words. Had he hated raising their children away from Montana?
“When’s Dad getting in?” Donnie asked as he hovered by the counter.
“Didn’t you say around one?” Nicole chimed in as she turned to face Casey.
“I can’t wait to meet him,” Luke offered. “I think Donnie and Nate can back me up here when I say we need more men around the house.”
“When one of you men can bake cinnamon rolls as good as this, then I’ll understand your worth,” Heather teased.
The day continued just as it had begun. People milled from room to room, their hands and mouths filled with food and their laughter boisterous. Nicole, Heather, and Casey flung themselves into the last preparations of the Thanksgiving meal. Finally, she pulled the turkey out of the oven around noon to allow it to cool for approximately forty minutes before serving. During this time, Kristine and Bella argued about the appropriate way to set the dining room table while Melody and Donnie squabbled over what kind of music to play for the dinner itself.
“Is our family crazy or what?” Heather said with a laugh as she analyzed a wine glass, lifting it high over her head before she scrubbed off a smudge with a towel.
“Maybe a little crazy, but still lovable,” Luke said as he stepped in to collect several already-cleansed wine glasses to be set at the table.
“That’s pretty sweet,” Heather returned in a sing-song voice.
A knock rang out at the door, one that made Nicole nearly leap from her skin. She ran her fingers through her hair and then raced off to the front door, where she greeted Evan Snow and his (oftentimes very bratty) daughter, Maddy. Recently, during the festival they’d held to save the Keating Inn and Acadia Eatery, Maddy had run off with her boyfriend and stolen Luke’s boat. Naturally, because she was a Snow, she hadn’t been prosecuted, and Luke had been bright and easy about the whole thing, as was his way. Casey had heard him tell Heather once, “Hey. I was a teenager once, you know. I was bad every now and then too” At this, Heather reminded him, “Luke. You were an orphan. Maddy has all the money in the world.” And Luke had responded sarcastically with, “Oh right. Because money makes everyone happy and well-adjusted. That’s right.”
Around one, Evan Snow carved the turkey in the kitchen as Nicole’s eyes shimmered with excitement. Maddy texted, seemingly bored, in the corner. Heather flashed around and said, “I bet Grant’s almost here! Should we wait a little bit longer?”
Casey’s throat tightened with fear. The last thing she wanted was to admit her defeat in front of all these people, all at once.
“He said he got held up, darn it,” Casey lamented with a sigh.
“When did he say that?” Melody asked.
“I just heard from him,” Casey lied.
“When?” Melody demanded as her eyes turned to slits.
“About twenty minutes ago,” Casey said.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Donnie demanded.
“Your mom’s been slaving over the stove making the gravy for the mashed potatoes, that’s why,” Heather interjected, her words playful yet sharp with sassiness. “Now, everyone. Get to the dining room and take a seat. We’ve got Thanksgiving dinner to eat.”
Casey cozied up between Melody and Nicole at the over-stuffed Thanksgiving dinner table. The table was laden with everything from fresh dinner rolls, turnip and mashed potatoes to homemade stuffing, turkey and gravy. Heather suggested that Luke say a prayer, which he did so with loving care, even as the feast before them steamed, emanating glorious spices and sinful smells of butter.
“I can’t thank you enough, Oh Lord, for bringing us all together on this beautiful Thursday at the end of November,” he said. “I’ve had a lifetime of loneliness and a sincere lack of family. Now, I find myself in the midst of one of the strangest...”
“Hey...” Heather warned playfully as they all remained with their eyes closed.
“Strangest, loving, hilarious, and beautiful families in the world,” Luke corrected as both Kristine and Bella suppressed their laughter. “We thank you for these gifts, this love, and this food. Oh, Lord. Amen.”
When they opened their eyes, Evan Snow remarked, “Not bad, Luke. Not bad.”
Luke laughed outright. “It was my first try.”
“Maybe you’ll be better next year,” Heather teased as Luke’s eyes widened.
It seemed that a promise hovered between them: a promise that Luke would be a part of their family for years to come— a promise that Heather would love and adore him, for as long as he wanted to be there at the head of their table.
It was strange to see Heather fall for a man who wasn’t Max Talbot— yet it was endearing to watch play out the beautiful texture of life and its malleability.