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“You know, I think the turkey’s ready! What do you say we take this party to the dining room?” Abbie suggests.
“That’s a great idea!” I say.
We follow Abbie to her vintage dining room table. A different China plate sits in each spot. The candle holders are shaped like ears of corn. Allison and I help Abbie fill up glasses of water in the kitchen for everyone.
“So, my dad hates Vince.” No one goes to reassure me.
Abbie sighs. “Oh, honey. Your dad is such a fucking stickler. He’d find a problem with a Nobel-prize-winning physicist because you’re his little girl. He’ll warm up to Vince once he sees how well he treats you.”
“Vince looks at you like the sun shines out of your ass,” Allison reassures me.
I swat her with a cloth napkin I grabbed for the place settings.
“Allison, you should find a gentle rock’ n’ roller to settle down with.”
“I’m too busy finding my dad.” She turns to me, “If you don’t kill Cheryl tonight and our evening frees up, would you like to open the envelope with me?”
I grab her hand. “I’d love to.”
We walk out into the dining room, where Priya is regaling my mom with tales from the tour. My mom hangs on to her every word.
Allison and I place a glass of water at every seat, and I take my seat beside Vince.
“So, Allison, what have you been up to?” My dad asks.
“I’m trying to find my dad. I signed up for one of those websites where you spit in a tube, and it tells you if you’re related to anyone nearby.”
“Did you now? Same here!” Vince crows.
I shoot a glance at him. “You did? Since when?”
Vince shrugs, “I dunno; I signed up on a bit of a whim. Who knows how many accidental relatives I have running around stateside?”
“Right? It’s like, I’d rather know than wonder at this point,” Allison exclaims.
“Well, Allison, all I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up,” my dad says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allison asks pointedly.
“All I’m saying is, if the guy knocked up your mother and ditched, I doubt he’s the most upstanding guy,” Cheryl says.
“Oh, right, Cheryl, like you know anything about upstanding men,” Allison shoots back.
“Mark is a great guy!” Cheryl practically shrieks.
“No, he is. I know because I grew up with him. But all I’m asking is, how did you guys meet again?”
“The turkey’s ready!” Abbie declares, hoping to cut the tension. Later, Allison continues to give Cheryl the third degree after she asks Priya to pass the green beans.
“I mean, it’s not every day you meet the love of your life in spin class!” Cheryl gushes, gripping my dad’s wrist.
“So, you were teaching a spin class, and you saw Mark Vynse in a sweatband and athletic shorts, and you said, ‘That’s the one.’”
“I approached her first,” Mark says sheepishly.
“And then, we went to Le Fontaine Bleu for our first date. It was the most romantic first date I’ve ever been on. I don’t usually eat red meat, but their filet mignon is to die for.”
“There it is,” Allison grumbles.
