“I’m buzzed enough,” Kate said. “If we’re creating fire, we should probably have our wits about us.”
Flames illuminated the fire pit and Rebecca sprinkled flour around them, forming a big circle.
“What do we do with the fruit?” Julie asked, juggling the lemon and orange.
Kate swiped them from the air. “I’ll show you. Sit down.”
The other three women sat cross-legged around the fire pit.
“Let’s do this quickly,” Julie said. “You know I have tight hip flexors.”
Kate stood beside the fire and held the lemon over the flames. “Now, think about words of encouragement.”
“To you?” Libbie asked.
“No, to yourselves.” Kate squeezed the lemon and watched the juice drip into the fire. I am Kate Golden. I rise to meet any challenge.
“Do we chant?” Julie asked.
Kate shushed her. “No chanting. Just focus on your words of encouragement.”
“So bossy,” Julie said and burst into a fit of giggles.
Kate rolled her eyes and held the orange over the fire. “Feel the positive energy as it fills your spirit.”
“I’d love to see you do a YouTube video like this,” Rebecca said. “Your subscribers would go nuts.”
“They’ll think I’ve gone nuts,” Kate said and tossed the orange and lemon into the fire. She joined her friends in a seated position, aware of streaks of fruit juice as they slipped under her sleeves, cascading down her arms and dripping onto her clothes.
“Julie, what are you drinking?” Libbie asked.
Julie lowered the bottle from her mouth, wearing a guilty expression. “I might have brought out a bottle of Malbec.”
Rebecca wriggled her fingers. “Pass it here.”
“You’re supposed to be navigating challenges,” Kate said, annoyed.
“I know, and the first challenge I need to navigate is staying in this cross-legged position for more than five minutes,” Julie said. “Hence the wine.”
“She’s a problem solver,” Rebecca said. “Like you, Kate.”
Julie nodded exuberantly. “That’s right. I’ve absorbed your motivational energy through years of osmosis.”
“What do we need to do now for the spell?” Libbie pressed.
“We have to get naked,” Kate said.
Libbie barked a short laugh. “Easy for you to say, Miss Peloton.”
“Oh, stop. You look amazing,” Kate said.
“No, I look normal,” Libbie protested. “You look amazing.”
“Women’s bodies are beautiful,” Rebecca said. “Why are we so hard on ourselves? Men walk around shirtless all summer long, beer bellies on full display, yet we try to hide every flaw.”
“We try to erase all evidence of our strength and struggles,” Libbie added. “I’ve given birth to two kids, but God forbid I look like I have.”
“I have stretch marks and don’t have any kids to show for it,” Julie said.
Everyone looked at Kate, waiting for her contribution.
“I have a wart.”
Libbie laughed. “You sure do, and it is butt-ugly.”
“I was kidding about the nudity,” Kate said. “I just wanted to see if anyone was drunk enough to fall for it.”
“Give me ten more minutes,” Julie said. She tipped the bottle back and drank before passing it to Libbie.
“Who’s driving me home?” Kate asked, holding out her hand for the bottle.
“Ethan can drive all of us,” Libbie said. “He’s such a terrific guy.” She sighed dreamily.
“Did we finish the spell?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know,” Kate said.
Libbie gasped. “We need to do our compliment circle.”
Inga had started the ritual of a compliment circle during cocktail club meetings. Each woman had to sit quietly and listen to compliments from the other women in the circle. Kate marveled at Libbie’s willingness to initiate it now, given that she was the one who hated it the most—before Libbie’s magical cocktail took effect, that is.
“Let’s multitask and do our words of encouragement out loud instead,” Kate said.
Rebecca shook the bottle at her as though it was an extension of her finger. “Solid plan.”
A breeze rushed through the circle and nearly extinguished the fire.
“That’s Inga saying she agrees with my suggestion,” Kate said.
“In that case, can we ask her why I don’t have any magic yet?” Julie asked.
“I’d rather ask her what went wrong with mine,” Kate said.
Libbie hugged herself. “Let’s finish the spell, or whatever we’re doing. I’m cold.”
“My butt’s numb.” Julie shifted from side to side and repositioned her legs.
Kate took a swig from the wine bottle and passed it to Libbie. “My words of encouragement are that I’m capable of rising to meet any challenge.”
Rebecca snorted. “That’s like saying the sun is capable of rising to meet the daytime.”
“Hey,” Julie admonished her. “No criticism.”
“Fine. During challenging times, I persevere like a palm tree in a hurricane,” Rebecca said.
“When I face a tough situation, I still manage to be a kind person,” Libbie said.
“You really do,” Kate said.
Libbie passed the bottle to Julie, who took a long drink before sharing her words of encouragement. “When I’m dealing with a difficult situation, I can weather any storm,” Julie said.
“That’s too close to mine,” Rebecca told her.
“I don’t think it matters for purposes of the spell,” Kate said. She noticed an ant crawling on her sleeve. It took three tries, but she managed to brush it off. “Gross. I’m covered in citrus and I’m sure there’s flour on my ass. I hate being sticky.”
Rebecca waved a drunken hand. “You’ve got nature’s bathtub right there. Go wash off in the lake.”
Kate climbed to her feet without a second thought.
“I was kidding,” Rebecca yelled, but Kate was already up and running.
She ran straight across the lawn and leaped into the water. She screamed the moment she touched the icy cold water and the sound pierced the quiet night air.
Peals of laughter echoed behind her.
Kate swam back toward the shore where Julie waited with her arm extended. Kate gripped her friend’s hand and pulled her forward.
Libbie and Rebecca doubled over with laughter as they watched their friends emerge from the lake, their clothes clinging to their bodies.
“My kingdom for a towel,” Kate said.
“What in the hell is going on out here?” Julie’s mother leaned on her cane in the grass, bathed in moonlight.
The women froze.
“Are you trying to catch hypothermia right before the holidays?” she continued. “How selfish can you be? Then who will look after me?” She thumped her cane on the ground and glowered at Julie. “You’re not sixteen anymore. One look at your boobs will tell you that.”
“Hey!” Julie’s arms moved to cover her chest.
“You should join us,” Rebecca called.
“So I can drop dead like your friend Inga and Julie can inherit my house? Nice try.” Doris turned and marched back to the house.
The women waited until the screen door slid shut to burst into laughter.
“She hates me,” Julie said.
“Your mom was wrong,” Rebecca said. “You really are sixteen as long as you’re living under the same roof as her.”
“And your boobs are perky as hell,” Kate added.
Julie smiled. “Aw, thanks. You’re the best friends a teenaged grownup could ever have.”
Chapter Twelve
As much as Kate loved autumn, she hated the holiday associated with it. Each year she begrudgingly set her feelings aside and fulfilled her familial duty on Thanksgiving. She disliked the excess of food, the political disagreements, and the dark history behind the seemingly festive
occasion. But mostly she hated the memories and emotions this particular holiday evoked.
Lucas’s parents had arrived the day before. Kate had been shocked to see how much older they looked since their last visit. She noticed the tremble of her father-in-law’s hands when he reached for the newspaper and the age spots that marred her mother-in-law’s complexion. It was as though they’d aged exponentially in a matter of months, providing an unwelcome reminder of their mortality.
She silently vowed to take plenty of photos to mark the occasion—keepsakes for Lucas and the kids. As always, she’d also take a few well-lit photos of the food to post on social media—ample dopamine hits for her brain.
“Can I help, Mommy?” Ava asked, climbing onto a stool in front of the island.
Kate smiled at her. “You can help by staying out of the kitchen. Everything needs to be done a certain way.”
“That means you’re too incompetent,” Gavin called from the family room.
Kate narrowed her eyes at him. “No, that means little people can’t be underfoot.”
“I can do mash the potatoes,” Ava said. “It’s hard to mess up mashing.”
“I can supervise,” Brett said, popping up from the table.
Kate laughed. “Then it will be the blind leading the blind.” She didn’t miss the look of disappointment that flashed across her children’s faces.
“Come on, you two,” Lucas said. “Out you get. You know how stressed your mother gets on Thanksgiving.” He winked at Kate as he steered the kids into the family room.
Kate tried to focus on the recipe on her laptop. If she used the zoom feature on the computer, half the recipe got cut off. She considered using the new reading glasses, but her pride refused that option, especially with her mother-in-law around. Generally speaking, Helen Golden was a nice woman, but she had her unpleasant moments. When Kate had trouble breastfeeding Gavin and switched to formula, Helen acted as though Kate had failed a maternal test. On Kate’s fortieth birthday, Helen had loudly remarked that age was the great equalizer and no amount of exercise would turn back time. Most recently, she’d seemed downright gleeful upon discovering Kate colored her hair. Well, Helen wouldn’t get the chance to celebrate Kate’s aging eyesight. Kate had always enjoyed 20/20 vision and she wasn’t ready to admit defeat, at least not until after her guests went home.
Kate busied herself in the kitchen, humming along to music playing on her laptop. She chose her playlist wisely—upbeat songs only. Cat-Cat tried to make a nuisance of herself on the counter, but Kate enlisted her daughter’s aid in keeping the curious cat occupied.
“How’s everything at headquarters?” Lucas asked. “Can I get you a drink while you work?”
“That would be nice,” Kate said.
He hovered in front of the wine cabinet. “Pinot noir?”
“Sure.” She whisked the eggs for the stuffing as he poured a glass of wine and set it on the counter in front of her.
“How are you holding up?” Lucas asked softly.
She squared her shoulders and kept whisking. “Fine.”
It wasn’t fine. Every year, she endured the stretch of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas with a brave face, but it was never easy. After her parents divorced, it became a time of stress and anxiety, with her parents battling over Kate’s time. Kate remembered feeling distressed over leaving her mother alone when it was her father’s turn. Even now, Kate associated the holidays with tissues. She used to stock tissue boxes in each room of the house, ready to catch her mother’s inevitable tears. After her father remarried and lost interest in Kate, the holiday became a sore spot for an even worse reason. It was right after Thanksgiving that Kate’s mother had sent her to the store for milk. Kate had made the twenty-block roundtrip in the bitter cold, believing she was doing her mother a huge favor. Kate to the rescue. Her mother had only needed to set up a hoop and Kate jumped through with abandon, eager to be the perfect daughter.
Kate stopped whisking and took a sip of wine.
Lucas glanced at the counter. “Do you have enough eggs?”
“Yes, thanks.” She set down the glass of wine.
Enough.
Kate hadn’t been enough, not for either parent.
If your parents are dead, are you still considered a daughter? Can you be a forty-eight-year-old orphan?
Kate had tried to win them over. Straight As. Obedient. Helpful. She tried to be so amazing that it would be a scientific impossibility not to love her.
It didn’t work. Her mother had opted for the worst exit strategy imaginable and, even before her father’s death, he’d basically abandoned her. Her father had been a competitive man and his early custody fights had more to do with winning than wanting Kate. His second wife had only been ten years older than Kate. He’d successfully replaced both her and her mother in one fell swoop.
“I’ll bring the bottle to the family room for Mom and Dad,” he said.
Kate nodded absently, her mind on the various moving parts of Thanksgiving dinner. The oven had been on since this morning with the turkey nestled inside. The stuffing she was making now was technically the dressing, although no one ever seemed to call it by its rightful name.
Kate opened the cabinet in search of rosemary. The bottle was there, but the moment she pulled it from the shelf, she could tell it was empty.
“Shit.”
How had she failed to notice the bottle was nearly empty the last time she used it? There was no way she could get it from the store now. They’d be closed. She contemplated calling Libbie, but she didn’t want to disrupt her friend’s holiday. Libbie was celebrating her first Thanksgiving with Ethan and her children.
Kate glanced at her husband in the family room, where he sat on the couch watching football with the kids. Sort of. The boys were on their phones and Ava sat with a lap desk across her knees, drawing with crayons. For a fleeting moment, she contemplated asking Lucas to drive to Libbie’s house and pinch rosemary from her garden. No, she couldn’t do that. If she asked for help, then her in-laws would know she’d screwed up.
She decided to skip the rosemary.
By the time Kate took the turkey out of the oven, her stomach was rumbling. She’d swallowed more wine than food and her hunger was catching up to her.
“The turkey’s resting if you want to do the honors,” Kate called to her husband.
Lucas placed an empty wine glass in the sink and retrieved the carving knife from the wooden block.
Kate pulled a hot bag of broccoli from the microwave and set it in a bowl before she burned her fingers. Although she preferred to steam broccoli the old-fashioned way, she had to streamline her process on Thanksgiving.
“The turkey’s still raw in the middle,” Lucas said.
Kate whipped around, ready to see a mischievous glimmer in her husband’s eyes. She was stunned to see him examining the bird with a furrowed brow.
“Oh, shit. You’re serious.”
Helen’s head popped up like an inquisitive meerkat surveying the savanna for signs of food. “What’s going on in there?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” Lucas said quickly.
“Is dinner ready?” his father asked.
“In a few minutes,” Lucas called back.
Kate shot him a quizzical look. How did he expect dinner to be ready in a few minutes with an uncooked turkey?
Lucas shrugged. “Do you think Libbie made extra?”
“Libbie isn’t catering our Thanksgiving dinner,” she said.
Helen shuffled into the kitchen. “What’s the matter?”
“The turkey’s not ready,” Lucas said. “The oven broke.”
Kate closed her eyes. That wasn’t the lie she would’ve chosen.
“Broke? How?” Helen brushed past them to examine the oven. “Ken, can you come here? You need to fix the oven.”
Ken ambled into the kitchen, hiking up his trousers. “What’s wrong with the oven?”
“I don’t know,” Helen said. “Tha
t’s why you need to look.”
Ken bent over the oven and peered through his thick glasses. “Seems to be on. What makes you think it’s broken?”
Lucas patted his father’s back. “Thanks for checking, Dad. We’ll take it from here.”
“How about another glass of wine, Helen?” Kate offered. “A beer for you, Ken?”
“I’ll pass,” Ken said. “Any more beer and my stomach won’t have room for actual food.”
At this rate, Kate was beginning to wonder if there’d be any actual food.
“I don’t know why you didn’t check on the bird,” Helen said.
“I did,” Kate said.
Helen continued rambling. “I baste mine and give it a peek every hour or so. How long did you cook it for? For a bird this size, I’d say it needed fifteen minutes per pound, unless you cooked it from frozen. Then it would need about twenty-two minutes per pound.”
Kate blanched.
“You did thaw it first, didn’t you?” Helen gave her a curious look. “Hmm. I’m surprised you didn’t think to do that, especially as you’re the one who insists on making Thanksgiving dinner every year.”
A scream traveled from the pit of Kate’s stomach but stopped midway in her throat.
The turkey wouldn’t be ready in time for Thanksgiving dinner. It was a complete disaster.
In a matter of weeks, her whole life had become a complete disaster.
So much for the spell she’d performed with her friends. She wasn’t navigating challenging times, she was creating them.
Wordlessly, Kate poured another glass of wine.
Concern shimmered in Helen’s eyes. “Come on, Ken. Let’s go sit with the children and give these two some space to figure it out.”
Lucas waited until his parents were out of earshot to address Kate. “We can salvage this. We’ll eat the sides and have dessert. We don’t need a turkey.”
No turkey? Kate felt lightheaded. “We can’t.”
“What will happen? The turkey police will show up on our doorstep and cite us for failing to uphold Thanksgiving standards?”
“Maybe,” Kate said weakly.
“We don’t have a choice,” Lucas said. “It’s fine. No one’s going to starve with all these carbs.”
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