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Tess emerges from the kitchen with a takeout bag and hands it to Ellery, mouthing something at her that I choose not to hear.

“Text me with the time,” she says to me, sliding off the stool.

Then she’s out the door and gone.

A whole afternoon at a table with my entire family and the woman who won’t look at me. That’s bound to fix this.

Chapter 27

Nick

Ellery crossed the road to avoid me yesterday. Stepped off the curb when she saw me coming down the sidewalk and went to the opposite side. She talks to me while we work, but it’s loaded with forced politeness for the sake of the tour guests. When we’re alone in the van, she barely speaks. I’d rather she yell at me.

When I arrive to pick her up at eleven for Thanksgiving, she’s waiting on the steps of her apartment, wearing charcoal tights and a flowy ochre-colored dress with turkeys printed all over it. She usually wears her hair down, but today, it’s piled up on her head, strands falling around her face. I’d give a great deal to go back to that cabin floor and not stop. There’s a bottle of wine with a red bow tied around the neck tucked under her arm. She’s hopping from foot to foot to stay warm in her forest-green peacoat.

She’d rather freeze than wear the coat I got her.

You’ve really screwed this up, Nick.

“You look nice,” I say as she gets in.

“Thanks.” She folds her hands in her lap and keeps them there.

We drive to Mom’s without another word. I’m out and opening her door for her as soon as I park, which earns me an irritated glance. I want to take her hand and walk her through the house I grew up in, show her the framed picture of twelve-year-old me with David Attenborough still hanging on the wall and our treehouse in the field by the pond, where I dared Luca to jump and he broke his wrist. I want her to know all the parts of me, like I want to know hers. If only it could be that easy.

She came as Mom’s guest, not mine, so I keep my hands where they are.

I take her coat and hang it on the rack. The hallway is the same as it was when I was a kid. The walls are lined with pictures documenting our entire childhood. Dad at the lake holding up a fish in front of his face, the biggest one he ever caught. Luca gap-toothed in a hockey jersey two sizes too big. The five of us on the porch the summer before I left for Stanford. She stops at that one. Mom’s sitting in Dad’s lap with a huge sun hat on, blocking his face.

Almost too late, I realize how foolish this is. Dad transitioned when he was twenty-six and spent the next one hundred and fifty years looking like it. I press my hand to the small of her back, urging her away from the photographs, to the dining room where Mom has set the table and Luca plays with baby Isaac while Tess and Dustin help out in the kitchen.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Mom plants a kiss on either side of my face and lets me see how pleased she is with herself. She wraps Ellery in a hug and leans back to admire her dress. Mom’s got a plan, and she’s not hiding it. This day is going to be a disaster.

“Thank you for having me,” Ellery says, handing Mom the wine she’s been clutching. “Can I help?”

“We’re nearly done. You take a seat.” Mom returns to the kitchen.

Luca has Isaac on his knee and is feeding him mashed potato off the end of a spoon, most of it on the floor. Ellery makes a beeline for them, grabbing a roll of paper towels on her way past.

“I guess I’ll chop some firewood.” I head for the back door.

“I think there’s plenty in the pile…” Dustin calls after me.

I keep going anyway.

I pull the axe from the block, set up a round, and split it down the middle. Halfway through, I stop bothering with the wedge and take them apart in one hit, which is not something I’d do with an outsider watching. By the time Mom calls me in for lunch, I’ve added a second stack, squared against the side of the house, enough to last her all of this winter and partway through the next.

I know before I sit down that she has me alongside Ellery. Sure enough, there’s a place card with my name on it next to hers. Tess on her other side. Mom could at least pretend she’s not trying to push us together. This is the first Thanksgiving in my twenty-eight years there’s ever been assigned seating.

Ellery comes to her chair and I reach for it right as she does. Our hands touch and she recoils like I scalded her. I wait for her to sit first.

The table is covered with a thick linen cloth and a centerpiece of dried flowers, a huge platter of roast turkey, Mom’s cranberry mushroom stuffing, and the sweet potato and marshmallow casserole Luca’s been making since he was eight. I can choke down real food if I have to, but my vampire stomach will make me pay for it later. Across the table, Dustin catches my eye. He’s in the same boat.

Mom places a bowl of deep red soup in front of me with a wink, and another for Dustin. “I made you both something you can tolerate.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I’m grateful, but man, I miss mac and cheese.

Luca carves Ellery a slice off the bird and forks it onto her outstretched plate.