So Russ was going to have Thanksgiving lunch with his parents and his siblings—“Who you can meet anytime; tomorrow if you want”—and Liam, and then he was going to come over to Honny’s house later that day to meet Cherry’s entire nosy family.
On Thursday afternoon, Cherry loaded the back of her Subaru Forester with pans and platters. She put the broken-glass Jell-O ring on the passenger seat, where she could hold on to it. This was a Tom special, and Cherry didn’t want to give anyone in her family a chance to miss it. It had takenhoursto make all the different colors of gelatin for the “shards” and then to suspend them in the creamy white base. It had come out perfect.
Honny’s split-level house in the suburbs was only a little bigger than Cherry’s. Hope’s house was bigger. Honny got to host Thanksgiving because she was the bossiest—and because she owned the most card tables and folding chairs. When Cherry walked into the house, everyone in the living room—her sisters’ husbands and kids—called out her name.
“Is that Cherry?” Joy rushed into the living room from the kitchen. Her face fell. “Where is he?”
“He’s coming later,” Cherry said. “Take this plate.”
“Aunt Cherry”—one of her nieces took the plate of cookies—“it’s okay if you didn’t bring the Jell-O with the beautiful jewels in it. We understand.”
“Mallory, honey, I brought it. It’s out in the car.”
Mallory was eleven. She was Faith’s oldest and sweetest kid. “You did? Did you also bring the pastieri?”
“They’re in the car, too. Put your shoes on and help me.”
Joy had her hands on her hips. Of all Cherry’s sisters, Joy looked the most like their dad. Olive skin. Dimples. Dramatic eyebrows. “How’d you manage all that? Were you up all night?”
“It’s just Jell-O.” Cherry had only slept from four a.m. to eight. She was wearing concealer under her eyes, and fake eyelashes.
“Where is he?” Honny walked out of the kitchen, already making a suspicious face.
“Aw.” Faith—the shortest and roundest of them—was right behind her. “Did he back out?”
“He’s coming later,” Cherry said.
Her mom walked out of the kitchen, looking elated and holding a big spoon. “Tom’s coming?”
“No,” Joy said. “Her new boyfriend.”
Cherry’s mom was crestfallen. “Oh.”
“Look—” Honny stepped closer to Cherry. “Be careful how you talk about this guy in front of the kids. I don’t want them to know you’re having an extramarital affair.”
“I’mnot.”
Honny waved her off. “Don’t start an argument you can’t win. Just call him your friend, okay?”
“Mom, I can’t mash the potatoesandbaste the turkey.” Hope was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. It was still jarring to see her.
Hope washalfher old size. Her face was different, her posture was different. She was wearing a beautiful tailored shirt tucked into waisted pants. She looked great—she looked thin. She looked ten years older.
She didn’t really look like Hope at all.
“Oh, hey, Cherry,” she said. “I thought you were bringing your boyfriend?”
Honny frowned. “They’re just friends.”
“He’s coming later,” Cherry said. She looked at her niece. “You ready to help?”
It took the two of them two more trips to empty Cherry’s hatchback.
“Aunt Cherry,” Mallory said, “I know you might need some help setting the table...” Cherry and Tom usually decorated the tables and arranged everything just so. Tom always took extra care with the kids’ table. “I can help you.”
Mallory had clearly been briefed on the Tom situation. They’d probably all been briefed. Cherry had the only broken marriage in the family; she was a parable now. “I’d love your help,” she said.
There were too many people in their family to sit together at one table for holiday dinners. The nieces and nephews—some of whom were six feet tall now—sat at folding tables in the living room. Honny used card tables to extend her dining room table, and the adults crammed in there, elbow to elbow.
