“What did your landlord say about taking it over?” my mom asked.
“Holding pattern,” I mumbled, stuffing the entire knot in my mouth. “So, why don’t we finalize who’s bringing what next week? I want time to prepare.”
It was the exact right bob and weave to derail my perfectionist sister, who I knew wanted her first Thanksgiving dinner in the new kitchen to be a cozy, pumpkin-spice-scented dream.
Taylor flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Ryan’s parents are having an artisanal charcuterie platter sent in from Williams-Sonoma and they’re bringing lots of wine. Mom is doing the turkey. I’m taking care of the mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes. Aunt Helen, what would you like to make? We still need a vegetable. And dessert.”
“Green bean casserole,” she said, scrolling through her phone. “It was your father’s favorite.”
As if we could forget. It was my grandmother’s recipe, so ridiculously creamy and fried-onion-covered that it could hardly be considered a vegetable.
“I’m bringing a vegetarian pot pie that’s so good you won’t even miss the chicken,” I volunteered, knowing that no one was going to eat it but me and Ryan. “And since I’m making crust I’ll bring an apple pie as well.”
“Perfect,” Taylor said with a nod.
“Chelsea.” Aunt Helen looked up from her phone, then jabbed her finger on the screen. “Why does it say here that your building is for sale?”
I choked on the lasagna noodle in my mouth. “Wait. How did you—”
“I wanted to see what it looks like since I haven’t been there since you opened. I searched your business name and it gaveme the address, and when I clicked on it I saw the listing. Chelsea, what’s going on?”
I’d always appreciated how Aunt Helen had kept up to date with technology for the sake of her business, but now I wished she’d be a little more like my mom and focus her online abilities on just Facebook and solitaire.
The room was silent except for the sound of Edith gnawing on her treat toy and every eye was on me.
“It’s for sale, honey?” my mom asked quietly.
I set my fork down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s no big deal. Mike said the new owner has to honor my lease, so it’s fine. Just a change of ownership, nothing to worry about.”
“When is your lease up?” Aunt Helen asked, and once again I cursed her for her business acumen. She’d had a brick-and-mortar shop for years so she knew all about the ins and outs of being a tenant.
“A year and a half. It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll figure it out.” I grabbed my second garlic knot.
“I wouldn’t agree with that,” Aunt Helen mused, focusing her laser eyes on me. “Where would you go if the new owner decides to kick you out?”
“They’re not going to kick me out. I’m a good tenant who pays on time. I payearlysome months. What’s not to love?”
Andrew’s fledgling business flashed through my mind. He didn’t have any history with Mike. He’d be easy to get rid of. As much as he pissed me off, I didn’t want to see him lose everything he’d worked so hard to build.
“What if someone wants to take the whole building over and turn it into a shipping warehouse?” Taylor asked. “If they have a business plan your good tenant record won’t matter.”
“Your sister is right,” my mom said softly.
“You really need to think about this,” Aunt Helen chimed in, completing the pushiest Greek chorus ever.
“You’re ganging up on me.”
“Chelsea,” Aunt Helen scolded, sounding way too much like my dad. “We arenotganging up on you. We’re trying to help you. Now, have you considered buying the building yourself? Because I saw the asking price and I know for a fact that your father left you—”
“Helen.”My mom shook her head.
Aunt Helen didn’t know the unspoken rule in our household. That we didn’t talk about the money that was sitting in an account, waiting for me to claim it. I glanced at Edith and wished she’d start chewing the tassels on the rug, or peeing on it, so I could jump up and focus on her instead of the mess spilling across the table.
“What?” Aunt Helen pressed on despite the warning, glancing around the table at us. “Why can’t we discuss it? Avoiding it isn’t going to make this problem go away, and not talking about your father’s gift won’t bring him back.”
“Yikes.” Taylor sucked in a breath and threw down her fork. “Here we go.”
To hear it spoken so plainly sent a shock wave through me. My mom and Taylor knew that I didn’t want to talk about it, yet here was Aunt Helen refusing to read the room.
