Poppy stalked into the living room and stopped in the middle of the room, loudly clearing her throat. “It’s time to eat.”
Dillon, wedged between Dad and Uncle Mark on the couch, gestured to the TV. “But the game’s not—”
“Take it up with Mom.” She whirled on her heel and madea beeline for the dining room. The sooner they ate, the sooner they’d finish, the sooner she could leave.
As always, Mom had gone all out with the table decor, channeling her inner Martha Stewart, and making hand-lettered placards for each place setting. Poppy circled the table, searching for her seat.
Mom breezed into the dining room and set the plated turkey down in the center of the table.
“Where am I sitting?” she asked.
Without looking at her, Mom jerked her chin toward the formal living room where the kids’ table was set up.
Poppy’s jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she blurted, her outburst earning her horrified looks from everyone around the dining table.
“Penelope,” Mom spoke through clenched teeth and Poppy would bet she was doing it on purpose, saying her name constantly, knowing now that it got under her skin. “The table is only so large, even with the leaf out. There simply isn’t room.”
Poppy flung out a hand and gestured to her eldest niece, who was three years younger than her. “Maddie gets to sit in the dining room.”
Maddie ducked her head and bit her lip, shrinking down in her seat.
Poppy swallowed hard past the growing lump in her throat and tore her eyes away from her niece, glaring at the person who actually deserved her ire. Mom pursed her lips and stared back at her, a placid smile frozen on her face, the tension around her mouth the only sign that Poppy had ruffled her feathers.
She was bitter and she knew she was being unreasonable and a bit of a brat, throwing a temper tantrum and probably confirming what the family already thought: that Poppy was unstable and erratic, prone to fits, hopeless and in need of hand-holding. But she couldn’t help it. This was bullshit and if anyone in this room actually gave a fuck about her, they wouldn’t be afraid to say something.
A hush had fallen over the table, not a single person meeting her eyes as she looked around the room.
“Yes, well, Maddie brought her fiancé.” Mom rounded the table. She grabbed Poppy by the elbow, grip bruising, and steered her toward the door. She dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “You are making a scene.”
“Don’t you know,” Poppy said, tearing her arm from Mom’s grasp, “that’s what I’m best at.”
A slight furrow formed between Mom’s brows, and she shook her head. “I amtryingto look out for you.”
“By relegating me to the children’s table?”
“There’s no alcohol in here.” Mom pursed her lips. “Less temptation for you, Penelope.”
She left Poppy standing in the middle of the living room with her mouth hanging open.
Temptation. As if Poppy was going to see a bottle of wine, lose her mind, and tear the cork out with her teeth like a wild animal. As if Poppy really was a child and had no impulse control. Un-fucking-believable.
Gritting her teeth, Poppy crossed the room and threw herself down in the empty chair between Gavin and Alex, her nephews, her sister’s kids, preteen boys who were both playing on their Nintendo Switches and ignoring the food on the table.
When in Rome... Poppy reached inside the pocket of her maxi dress and pulled out her phone to text Rosaline.
Poppy (3:22 p.m.):I sincerely hope your Thanksgiving is going better than mine.
Poppy (3:22 p.m.):Not that I can imagine how anything could be worse than this.
Her reply was nearly instantaneous.
Rosaline (3:23 p.m.):Did something happen?
Rosaline (3:23 p.m.):Already?
Poppy snorted under her breath and Gavin shot her a funny look, unsettlingly similar to the sort of exasperated looks her sister gave her. He shook his head just like Mom did when she was tired of Poppy’s antics and returned his attention to the game console in his hands.
Poppy (3:23 p.m.):Oh, you know. The usual. Mom picked a fight, and I did the stupid thing and took the bait. Of course then she told me I was being hysterical. And then I got seated at the kiddie table. Because no one’s drinking wine at the kiddie table, so I won’t be tempted.
