“Yes.” Caleb nods dramatically. “That’s right.”
“And you’ve already met my parents, Marty and Janet.” I say their names in case Justin didn’t debrief him beforehand.
“Yes, it’s great to see you guys again. Thank you for letting me come tonight.”
“And last but not least is Aunt Carma.” Everyone swings their eyes to her at the kitchen table. She glances up at Caleb, eyes him with appreciation, says, “I didn’t know we were getting dessert with dinner,” then goes back to her card game.
I have a feeling Caleb is thedessert.
“Are you hungry?” my dad asks, handing him a paper plate with a cartoon turkey on it.
“Starving.” Caleb smiles as he steps toward the buffet of food laid out across the counter. “Do we eat before we…” His words trail off, and he laughs. “I actually have no clue what we’re doing here tonight—something about a turkey andstuff.”
“We’re stuffing the Thanksgiving turkey.” My dad points behind him to the roaster pan and the waiting poultry. “It’s a family tradition.”
Caleb laughs. “What are we stuffing it with?”
My mom places two slices of pizza on his plate. “Stuffing.”
“The kind you eat?” He kicks out a barstool and sits like he owns the place. “Like Stove Top?”
“Well, yes, but we make homemade stuffing and cook it inside the turkey,” I explain.
“Do people do this?” He looks around the room. “Like, is this normal? The stuffing goesinsidethe turkey?”
Jeff laughs. “If you’re asking if people make a party out of shoving food inside a dead turkey full of salmonella, the answer is no. It’s just this family.”
From the sink, my dad breaks into the same song he always sings whenever somebody mentions salmonella poisoning. “Salmonella! Dolcinia!”
Caleb jumps, obviously unprepared for someone to belt out opera, and I’m suddenly embarrassed by my family. I mean, I love them. But having a stranger with no skin in the game be thrown in the middle of all the chaos makes me hyper-aware of just how odd we are.
I lean in, feeling the need to explain my dad’s sudden opera outburst. “He’s singing a song fromMan of La Mancha. It’s a Broadway musical or something. I don’t really know.”
Brian walks past, tipping his cup to Caleb. “As you can see, nothing about the Stanworth family and the holidays are normal.”
I’m sure he’s rethinking this swap and planning his exit as soon as he can.
“We’re weird.” My cheeks flame even brighter as I grimace back at him. “Sorry you have to witness this.”
“It’s fine.” He laughs, but not in a mocking way. It’s more of an amused way.
“Justin! Justin, listen!” My mom taps his forearm, trying to get his attention. “You don’t have to stuff the turkey. You can just watch.”
“Are you kidding me? Stuffing a turkey has just become a bucket-list item.” Caleb’s smile is so big and animated that I can’t help smiling too. “How did this tradition even start?”
My mom rests her elbows on the kitchen island as if they’re instant best friends. I can’t even wrap my head around how fast she went from hating him to loving him, but I’m happy to see her trying for me. “When we moved to Telluride, twenty-seven years ago, we were missing our families back east and had all of these little girls who wanted to help in the kitchen, so we decided to have them help with the Thanksgiving prep. They loved it so much that we just kept doing it every single year.”
“That’s awesome,” Caleb says between bites of pizza.
Anna stands next to my mom. “So, Justin, tell us about the All-Weather Blanket that’s been keeping you so busy.”
“Um…”
Oh, no. He’s going to crack under pressure and ruin this whole operation.
“Well, I took something basic that has been around forever, like a blanket, and improved upon it. Did you know blankets are the number one comfort item in the world?”
“I thought food was,” Tommy says.
