25

You know, I think this is the first Thanksgiving I’m not going to have all my children around the table.”

Sarah and her mother sat at the big kitchen table shelling pecans the Saturday morning before Thanksgiving. Nancy Jo’s sister in Las Cruces sent a big sack of pecans from their trees every fall, and for Sarah, shelling them with her mom had always heralded the approaching holidays.

“Really? Kimberly and Michael have never gone to his folks?” Sarah stopped to sweep some shell fragments into the big paper bag under the table.

“Not for Thanksgiving. Well, I guess it was bound to happen sometime.” Nancy Jo never bothered much with crying over spilled milk. She got up to refill their coffee cups. “You are going to be here for Christmas, though, right?”

“Of course. I’m not moving to Chicago. Just going for Thanksgiving.”

“Well, you never know. I’m bracing myself against the day you just up and move away. Chicago is so far away. I’m afraid I won’t even know my own grandchildren.”

“Mom.” Sarah put down her nutcracker and pick and looked into her mother’s eyes. “I’m not going to up and move away. I just got back to Last Chance and I like it here. And I don’t know what grandchildren you’re talking about, but you seem to know all of them pretty well. So I wouldn’t waste any more time worrying about it.”

“I still say you never know, Miss Priss.” Nancy Jo scooped shelled pecans into a measuring cup and then poured them into zip-top bags. “You’ve been mincing around for weeks saying you didn’t know what you were going to do about Brandon. And I say that’s a lot of nonsense. If you don’t know you love a man enough to spend your life with him, then you do know that you don’t.”

“What? Want to run that by me again?”

“You know exactly what I mean. You have to be one hundred and fifty percent positive that you’re in love, or just let it go. Life’s hard enough as it is. I never, to this day, have had a moment’s doubt that your dad was the one, and I still want to shake him half the time.”

“Maybe if either one of you had ever dated anyone else, you might not have been so sure. You started going steady when you were, what, fifteen?”

“When you know, you know. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Okay. Message received.” Winning an argument with her mom was not any easier than winning one with Gran, and sometimes all Sarah could do was agree. They shelled pecans in silence for a while.

“How is Brandon, anyway? It was nice having him here for lunch when he was in town last month. I always thought he was a little hard to know, but he was just as pleasant as he could be.”

“I guess he’s doing fine. He’s had to do some traveling for his company this last week and I haven’t been able to talk to him, but he should get home sometime this weekend.”

“Well, tell him I said hi and that he’s more than welcome at Christmas, if he wants to come.”

“I’ll tell him you said hi. We’ll worry about Christmas later.”

“Oh, I think it would be real interesting to have him here for Christmas.” Nancy Jo smiled a half smile. “Your grandmother’s talking about having that nice Chris Reed from the diner and his niece up for Christmas Day. She tried to get him to come for Thanksgiving, but he’s got other plans, I guess.”

“And what does that have to do with Brandon, anyway?” Sarah tried to stare her mother down, but Nancy Jo was too engaged in cracking and picking and measuring to stare back.

“You know,” Sarah went on, “when I was thinking about coming back to Last Chance to teach, I couldn’t come up with a single drawback. But I’ve got quite a list now, and it’s growing.”

Nancy Jo looked up and smiled. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Did you say something? I’m afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sarah gave up and returned to the pecans. Truth be told, her family, as exasperating is it could be, was number one on her list of reasons to come back to Last Chance. They got in her business, teased her beyond endurance sometimes, and were awfully free with advice, solicited or not. But they stood in linked-arm unity between her and anything that might harm her, just as she joined the protective wall of family that surrounded each of them.

Her mom might appear to be taking Sarah’s absence from the Thanksgiving table this year lightly, but for Sarah it was a big deal. Next Thursday family and friends would gather around the two long tables set up in the dining room, just as they had every Thanksgiving of Sarah’s life, and Sarah would be elsewhere. Knowing Brandon, she’d probably be at a cozy table for two in some popular Chicago restaurant eating something that had absolutely no connection to Thanksgiving whatsoever. She popped a few pecans into her mouth. He’d just better appreciate what she was doing for him, that’s all.

“So when do you leave? Will I see you again before you go?” They had finally finished the shelling, and Nancy Jo was stacking the zip-top bags and rolling up the newspaper that had covered the table.

“Not unless you come to town, I’m afraid. I just have too much to do to get ready. I’m leaving straight from school on Wednesday.”

“Well, we’re going to miss you. And we’ll be real interested to know how everything turns out. I know Thanksgiving was the make-or-break date you set for yourself.”

“Who’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about who’s so interested to know how things turn out?”

“Us. Your family. And we’ll all be here having our pie Thanksgiving evening, so if you have an announcement to make or anything, why, just give us a call. We’ll be waiting.”

Sarah got to her feet and gave her mother a hug. “Well, don’t wait. Because there’s not going to be an announcement, I can promise you that. And in case you can’t think of anything to talk about besides my love life, I’ll make a list of topics and send it up with Gran. Now, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a ton of things to do.”

Nancy Jo took her daughter into her arms and gave her a long hug. “I will miss you, sweet girl. It won’t be the same without you. And for all the teasing I do, I want you to know that I am praying for you. Don’t let anyone or any arbitrary date you set pressure you into making a decision you’re not ready to make, you hear me? You have all the time in the world.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Sarah dug for her keys. “I’ll call before I leave. And wish Dad a happy Thanksgiving for me, will you?”

“I will. Oh, and don’t forget these.” Nancy Jo grabbed some zip-top bags. “Would you take a couple of these to Gran? She’s going to want to get started on her baking. And take one to Chris Reed too. I bet he’d appreciate it.”

“Sure.” Sarah gave her mom one last hug and headed for her car.

She was surprised to find herself batting back tears as she drove down the dirt road to the highway. For Pete’s sake, grow up, woman. It’s just one Thanksgiving, not the rest of your life. Maybe Brandon is right; you do need to get out and see more of the world. She bumped over the cattle guard and turned onto the pavement. But I still say seeing more of the world on Thanksgiving was a really dumb idea.

Olivia was in the lot next to the Dip ’n’ Dine hitting at a scrubby bush with a stick when Sarah drove into the parking lot, and she ran to meet her. Sarah draped an arm across her shoulders.

“Hey there, Livvy. What’re you up to?”

“Trying to find my lizard. I made it a home in a shoe box, but it got out and ran away.”

“Well, lizards are tricky that way. Is your uncle inside? I have something for him.”

“Sure.” Olivia led the way into the diner. “Uncle Chris! Miss Cooley’s here.”

Chris looked up from the pie he was cutting and grinned. “Come on in. We’re celebrating. Pie for everyone.”

Sarah stopped just inside. “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to be in Western Home and Garden magazine, that’s what’s going on.” Juanita, who appeared to have been having lunch with Russ, was helping the Saturday waitress distribute the slices. “Chris just got an email from that food editor, and they’re going to do a whole article on the Dip ’n’ Dine. Can you believe it?”

“Really?” Sarah looked at Chris for confirmation. She loved the Dip ’n’ Dine. She had loved it all her life, but a whole article? In Western Home and Garden?

He nodded, still grinning. “Yep. They have a feature every month called ‘Best of the Best’ where they pick one thing in a western state—could be a park, or a plant nursery, or even a roadside stand—and call it the best of the best. Then they write an article about it.”

“And next May, just in time for the next fiesta, they’re writing about the best diner in the western states: the Dip ’n’ Dine in Last Chance, New Mexico.” Juanita looked like she could have turned a handspring.

“Chris, that’s marvelous. Good for you.”

He nodded. “They’re sending a photographer out, and they’ve asked for the recipes for my mole verde and Carlos’s chile rellenos. They want to make them home-cook friendly and feature them with the article.”

“No one messes with my recipes.” Carlos appeared in the window to the kitchen. If he was celebrating, he was doing it there, and from the looks of it, without pie.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s as pleased as the rest of us.”

“Rita! We’ve got to call Rita. She’ll bust out crying. I know she will.” Juanita went for the phone, and everyone else in the diner turned to their pie.

“Well, this is certainly anticlimactic, but I brought you something.” Sarah handed him the pecans. “These are from Mom—and my aunt Deb’s pecan trees.”

“That’s nice.” Chris turned the package over in his hand, looking a little puzzled. “How do I rate this?”

“Because you cook. Mom loves to share the wealth. I’ve got a couple bags for Gran too. I just wanted to drop these by before I left Wednesday. Great timing, though. Happy Thanksgiving and congratulations again. Sorry I don’t have time for pie, but I still have a ton of things to do.” She smiled up at him and opened the front door.

“That’s right. Chicago for Thanksgiving.” He and Olivia followed her out to her car. “That’ll be different.”

Sarah shrugged. “I’ll say, but it’s a little late to rethink now. What about you? Mom said they’d asked you to the ranch, but you’ve got other plans.”

“Yes, we do. Although we certainly did appreciate the invitation, didn’t we, Livvy?”

Chris did not seem inclined to elaborate, but Olivia piped up.

“We’re going to cook a turkey. And make a pie from a real pumpkin.”

Sarah raised a questioning eyebrow at Chris. “You’re eating at home? You know there’s always room at the ranch, and they meant it when they invited you.”

The look Chris shot Olivia was both fond and exasperated. He put his hand on her head and waggled it. “Before your grandmother so kindly extended the invitation, I had promised Livvy we’d cook a Thanksgiving feast together. She’s never had a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Never?”

“No, my parents always took her and Kaitlyn out to their country club for holiday meals. So the little decorations she’d make in preschool or kindergarten never got used.” He looked down at his niece. “But this year, we’re going all out. Aren’t we, kiddo?”

“You can come.” Olivia grabbed Sarah’s hand. “I’ll make you a pilgrim hat too.”

Sarah smiled at her. “That sounds like so much fun, and I’d love to, but I’m going out of town for Thanksgiving.”

“I’ve already made the place mats, but I could make another one.”

“I’m afraid I can’t this year, Livvy. But you remember everything so you can tell me all about it when I get back, okay?” She gave them both a hug before she got in her car and started the engine.

Stopping by her grandmother’s house to deliver the rest of the pecans and tell the good news about the Dip ’n’ Dine, she found Gran planning all the dishes she was going to take to the ranch, and since Sarah was there, she wanted to go over the whole list with her, even though Sarah kept reminding her that she’d be in Chicago.

By the time she walked in her door and kicked off her shoes, Sarah had heard all she wanted to hear about Thanksgiving in Last Chance. She needed to hear Brandon tell her again about the wonderful weekend they were going to share. She glanced at her watch. He probably was still in the air on his way back from his business trip, but she could leave a message telling him she was going to be home all evening and he could call before 11:00 if he wanted.

Grabbing her phone and tossing a sofa pillow on the coffee table to cushion her feet, she stretched her legs out in front of her and crossed her ankles. She smiled to herself as she called Brandon’s number. My house, Mom. Feet on the coffee table if I want them there.

When Brandon’s phone started ringing, she composed a quick message in her mind. Hi, it’s me, and I can’t wait to talk to you. So call as soon as you can.

“Brandon’s phone.” A woman’s voice.

Sarah opened her mouth and closed it again.

“Hello? Anyone there?” The woman’s voice sounded impatient.

“Um, yes.” Sarah found her own voice. “Is Brandon there?”

“He’s not available right now. Who’s this?”

“This is Sarah. Who are you? And where’s Brandon?” What kind of game was this woman playing? And why was she answering Brandon’s phone, anyway?

“Oh, he’s up to his neck in mud right now, I’d say. But I’ll certainly tell him you called. You wouldn’t be his wife, would you?”

“His wife? No.” Sara struggled to keep up with this conversation. Brandon wasn’t married. Was this even the right Brandon?

“Okay. Well, I’m sure you’ll be hearing from him.”

“Wait!” But the voice was gone.

Sarah sat looking at the phone in her hand. Any second now it would come to life and Brandon’s face would appear on the screen. He’d explain everything, maybe even have that woman get on the phone and tell Sarah that she was a co-worker and the world’s lamest practical joker. But her phone lay in her hand like a dead thing. Finally she tossed it on the table, leaned back and covered her face with her hands.

There were a dozen possibilities that would innocently explain the phone conversation she’d just had, and she had no doubt that the story Brandon told would be a doozy. He had turned explaining his way out of trouble into an art form, and she, fool that she was, had helped him do it.

By the time her phone did ring, about an hour and a half later, she was almost disinterestedly curious about what he would say.

“Hi, babe!” He certainly sounded cheerful. “I just got off the plane and I’m headed for a taxi, but I needed to hear your voice. The trip was a bear.”

“You have got to be kidding.” He was going to pretend nothing had happened. Really?

“What?” Confusion. Bewilderment. Was that even pain in his voice?

“Give it up, Brandon. It’s not going to work this time. Who was that woman, and what was she doing with your phone?”

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you sound a little nuts. Can we just back up and start over?”

Ah. The old no-sane-person-would-think-what-you’re-thinking approach. Sarah knew that one well.

“Okay, Brandon, since you want to start over, we’ll do it your way. One hour and forty minutes ago, I called you just to say I was looking forward to seeing you. A woman answered and said you couldn’t come to the phone. She demanded to know who I was and asked me if I was your wife. So now that I’ve answered your questions, answer mine. Who was she and why did she have your phone?”

“Well, all I can say is that I’ve been on a plane for the last two hours and my phone has been in my pocket. You must have got a real joker of a wrong number.”

“Brandon, you moron, do you think I sat here and poked in your number digit by digit? I did not get a wrong number. And exactly four days before I was coming to see you, you were with another woman. That is so sick.”

Bandon was actually silent for a few seconds before he tried again. “Well, I don’t know what could have gone wrong, but obviously something did.”

“You got that right. But—and I thank God—it’s not too late to fix it. I’m canceling my trip as soon as I hang up. Do not, and I mean do not, call me, or text me, and don’t you dare turn up in Last Chance looking for me. I’ll tell my relatives to shoot you on sight if you do.”

“Oh, come on, Sarah. Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little? Let me at least explain.”

“You already did. Good-bye, Brandon.”

“Sarah—”

Sarah held the Power button till the screen went blank before crumpling in a corner of her sofa and bawling. She had never been a particularly dainty weeper, and since no one could hear her anyway, she allowed herself to really let go. Three years! Three years of her life spent desperately trying to remain Sarah while Brandon with relentless persistence tried to shape her thoughts, her dreams, her looks, even her perception of reality. How could she have done that to herself? What could she have been thinking?

Finally, feeling totally spent and in dire need of a tissue, Sarah got up and padded down the hall for some toilet paper. Paying for her trip had completely depleted her tiny savings account and run up her credit card. She almost wished now that she had taken Brandon up on his offer to pay for everything. Then he’d be stuck with the bill, because she was pretty sure there’d be no refund from either the airline or the hotel, this being a holiday weekend. She unrolled a length and blew. Well, all things considered, if it saved her from making a mistake that she would regret every day for the rest of her life, it was a small price to pay.

Taking the roll with her, Sarah went back to her sofa. So she’d be home for Thanksgiving after all. And it looked like her love life wouldn’t be the chief topic of discussion after all. No, it certainly would not, at least not when she was within earshot. All conversation would stop when she entered a room. She’d intercept tragic looks of compassion. This relative or that would find a moment to give her a squeeze and whisper that they never could stand Brandon anyway. Sarah shuddered. What a day she’d had. She’d gone from fighting back tears because she wasn’t going to be spending Thanksgiving with her family to deciding that was the last place she wanted to be on Thanksgiving Day—well, the second to last. In between, she had completely eradicated Brandon from her life. And she had to admit that didn’t feel as bad as she thought it might.

It took a can of chicken and rice soup, a long bath, officially canceling her travel plans—even though she did find out she was liable for the full cost—and blocking Brandon’s number from her phone, but Sarah actually felt a little better by bedtime. She looked at her watch, decided it really wasn’t all that late, and made one more phone call.

“Hi, it’s me. Listen, I have two huge favors to ask. First, please don’t ask any questions, and second, do you think you could ask Livvy to make me a pilgrim hat and a place mat, after all?”

She smiled as she hung up. Who knew “You got it” could be just what she needed to hear?