“She’ll be a great mother someday,” John agrees.
I stare at him, shocked. “Th-thanks.”
“Well, well, well.” Rachel’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Looks like little sis is finally living up to her potential. It only took, what, twenty-eight years?”
“Rachel,” Mom scolds half-heartedly, but the damage is done.
I shrink in my seat. All the confidence John built up evaporates in an instant. Not unusual, but I hate when Rachel does this, and I can’t stop myself from reacting.
“Abby’s been exceeding expectations since day one, according to her former boss. All her skills will help her when it’s time for her to take on more responsibilities, both professionally and personally. I wish I had her people skills, and I’m hoping I can learn more from her.” John’s voice cuts through the awkward silence.
I stare at my plate, torn between gratitude for John’s defense and mortification at being the center of attention again. Maybe I should take Powerfluff’s lead and spend the first night in my room, adjusting to being home again.
“Well, that’s lovely,” Mom says, clearly trying to smooth things the way she always does. “But let’s not forget about Rachel’s big promotion.”
And once again, Rachel’s telling us more about her latest job triumph. Even though she’s talking, I tune her story out and focus on my dinner. The turkey could’ve used more basting, but everything else turned out well.
When I glance at John, he offers a sympathetic smile. It’s oddly comforting, this silent support from a man who I thought barely tolerated me twelve hours ago.
As Rachel’s monologue winds down, Jake jumps in with his own work stories and I relax slightly. At least when Jake is talking, Rachel doesn’t make backhanded comments about my life choices.
We finish the main course with a mix of strained smiles and awkward silences, but lucky us, we still have dessert to get through. At least no blood has been shed yet, even though a few of the words had been as jagged as broken glass.
“This turkey is delicious,” Dad says, breaking the tension that was building in the silence. “You’ve outdone yourself this year with dinner.”
“Mom’s the expert turkey maker,” I say.
Mom shrugs. “I can’t take all the credit. Abby and John were a big help putting everything together for me.”
John winks at me. “Mashed potatoes are the true test of a cook.”
Rachel dabs at her mouth with a napkin. “Oh? You cook, John?”
“I’m full of surprises.” John’s tone is light, but his eyes are full of challenge. “Just like Abby.”
Rachel’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. Jake, oblivious to the undercurrent, reaches for another helping of potatoes.
“These are amazing, man,” he says around a mouthful. “What’s your secret?”
John grins. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you. And that would put quite a damper on Christmas dinner.”
A surprised laugh escapes me, and I quickly cover it with a cough.
Mom looks between us. “It’s so nice to have everyone together. Isn’t it, dear?”
Dad nods, his gaze darting between Rachel and me. “It certainly is. We haven’t seen Abby since May. Though I have to say, it’s quieter than usual. Everything okay with you girls?”
“Everything’s perfect, Daddy,” Rachel says.
“Just tired from working and the drive, Dad,” I say at the same time.
“If you say so.”
We both nod.
As everyone places their forks on the empty plates, I’m surprised how John seamlessly fits into the family dynamic. He deflects Rachel’s subtle jabs with humor and charm, which Iappreciate so much. It’s almost enough to make me forget this is all an act. Emphasis on almost.
All I have to do is survive dessert. Mom asks John and me to help her.
