Anyone got a foolproof recipe for pumpkin pie? And I mean FOOL PROOF. It’s an emergency!
Have DM’d you. Thank you for doing this x.
Chapter 14
HEATHER
Heatherwipesherhandson the front of her apron, pulls the iPad towards herself and watches how Bethany, on video call from Baltimore, adds, mixes and stirs.
‘So now you add in the mushroom soup. Great. Now the beans. Awesome. And finally, the milk.’
Heather matches her actions according to Bethany's instructions and flips the camera so her newfound friend can see how things are progressing in her kitchen in Edinburgh.
‘Oh beautiful. That’s great, Heather!’
Has she ever had a more encouraging friend? Heather converts 350 degrees Fahrenheit into degrees Celsius on herphone and slips her first ever attempt at Green Bean Casserole into the oven.
‘Now you just have to remember the onions in about twenty-five minutes,’ Bethany says. ‘Set a timer and don’t forget. It’s the onions that make it.’
The two women pause once the oven door is closed. Despite the time difference, the preparations have all been done in tandem across their two kitchens. This involved Bethany getting up at 6am for Heather to begin cooking at 11am, but Bethany’s sunny demeanour doesn’t hint at exhaustion or irritability. ‘I’ve never had a woman to prep Thanksgiving with before,’ she says. ‘Thank you so much, Heather, and thank you for making today so special for Trey.’
Heather tells her it’s her absolute pleasure.
‘We’ll call you once we’ve eaten. 3pm our time, so 10am for you, if that’s okay?’ Heather says.
The two women wave to the camera as they hang up. Heather checks the time, and a smile crawls across her face. She’s expecting Georgia, Brianna and Trey any moment now, and ideally, she’d like to have the table set before they arrive. And Scott.
Did she mention Scott?
Scott is coming, too.
***
The teenagers arrive in a chorus of screams and 'hello, hello, hello'. Georgia and Brianna rush towards Heather and wrap their arms around her. Heather hasn’t seen her daughter in the flesh since she was discharged from hospital three weeks ago, and although they’ve been in frequent communication via FaceTime, there’s something altogether more satisfactory about seeing her in real life and hugging her close.
Trey, meanwhile, stands at the door, staring at the table setting. Heather has gone to town.
‘You did all this for me?’ he says when Heather approaches to give him a Thanksgiving hug.
‘It’s my way of saying thank you, Trey,’ she says, ‘for looking after my girl that night.’
There are American flags at each place setting, and a central table decoration in red, white and blue commissioned especially from the Morningside florist.
‘You’ve even bought sauerkraut,’ Trey gasps, pointing at the jar on the table.
‘Your mum took me through a typical Baltimore Thanksgiving meal. She told me that crab dip starter and sauerkraut were essential.’
His eyes widen. ‘You made crab dip?’
‘Your mum got up at six in the morning to take me through it.’
The girls, picking up on their friend’s emotion, thrust their arms around him and begin planting kisses on any area of his face, head or shoulders they can reach.
‘This is because we all love you, Trey-Trey-Trey,’ they chant in his ear.
There’s a hammer on the door, and Heather leaves the teenagers as she goes to answer.
