None of them were surprised (or upset) when the day in the woods turned out to be Jonah’s last. Through the grapevine, Lilah heard that the network had offered Jonah even more money not to quit, to no avail. The story of their confrontation had already started to spread, obviously planted preemptively by his team, since the coverage painted her as a lazy, entitled diva throwing tantrums over the slightest inconvenience.
She’d had an emergency triage call with Jasmine and her publicist the morning of Thanksgiving. The two of them had begged her to be on her best behavior going forward, the “or else” only implied. She didn’t regret standing her ground with Jonah, but once she understood her chance atNight Callwasnow in jeopardy, shedidregret holding Shane back from clocking him.
Luckily, their long holiday weekend—still union-mandated even though they were in Canada—arrived just in time. Everyone had embraced the idea of their pseudo-Thanksgiving dinner party wholeheartedly, the stress of the situation bonding them more than ever.
Lilah had taken care of booking the one-bedroom house, though Shane had insisted on splitting the cost of everything, the two of them waving away everyone else’s offers to help pay for booze or groceries. The head count came out to around a dozen: other than the six of them, the only others who had traveled with them from L.A. were Walt and Polly (who’d cowritten the episodes), plus their significant others.
Margaux, Natalie, and Natalie’s husband, Omar, declared themselves in charge of the menu. The three of them took care of the shopping while Lilah checked into the Airbnb.
At the suggestion of the set medic, Shane was off getting a chest X-ray. When she’d heard, Lilah was startled to realize her first impulse was to offer to go with him—which she’d obviously suppressed. She flipped throughNight Callwhile waiting for the others to show up with the groceries, ignoring the equally irrational urge to text him to check in about it.
The three of them arrived laden with bags shortly before noon, Lilah dropping the book on the counter to go help them unload the car.
Omar, the professional chef among the group, began delegating tasks to all of them, and they set to work washing, chopping, and measuring, the kitchen quickly filling with delicious smells. Margaux took control of the playlist, rolling her eyes good-naturedly whenever a song came on that none of them were young or cool enough to have heard of.
The others slowly trickled in over the course of the day—Brian, Rafael and his wife, Walt and his husband, and Polly—and were subsequently put to work.
Shane showed up last, to exaggerated but affectionate applause from the rest of them. He waved it off, grinning sheepishly.
“How’s the patient?” asked Rafael.
“All good. Just bruised,” Shane said, making his way into the kitchen and leaning against the counter across from where Lilah was caramelizing onions. “This whole socialized healthcare thing is pretty cool, though. Have y’all heard about this? Instead of a bill, they just gave me a Tim Hortons coupon and a little kiss on the forehead.”
The rest of them laughed, and Lilah bit her lip to keep from joining in. But when she looked up, she caught Shane looking away from her—like he’d been checking for her reaction first.
…
When the meal was ready, they all gathered around the table. Since none of them cared about Thanksgiving (not to mention the fact that they were in Canada), the menu wasn’t exactly traditional, but Shane’s mouth had been watering for hours, and he filled his plate to bursting with every dish on the table: baked kabocha squash stuffed with spicy hazelnuts and topped with burrata, slow-cooked lamb shawarma, mushroom-onion galette, couscous salad with roasted cherry tomatoes and fresh herbs. Though the plastic checkered tablecloth and paper plates gave the meal a ragtag aura, the food was exceptional, and they all ate in contented silence for several minutes.
Once they’d eaten their fill, Shane cleared his throat, catching Lilah’s eye at the opposite end of the table.
“Should we go around and each say something we’re thankful for? I feel like that’s the one good thing to take away from Thanksgiving as an institution.”
Everyone else murmured in assent, setting their forks down and glancing around to see if anyone would volunteer to go first.
Brian leaned back in his chair, half raising his hand. “I can start, if you want. I’m thankful we never have to shoot that damn scene again.” He shot a worried glance at Walt. “Right?”
Walt shook his head, and the rest of the table broke into relieved laughter, a few of them raising their glasses in agreement.
“Honestly, though, I’m thankful to be here at all,” Brian continued. “As far as first jobs go, this has kind of been the dream. And I know my parents are thankful that I’m actually going to be able to pay off my student loans.”
The others laughed again, and they continued around the table: Rafael sharing his gratitude that his parents were able to retire and relocate to Los Angeles with his help, Margaux tearing up while describing how her cat, Tuba, was now thriving after emergency surgery the previous month.
When it was Lilah’s turn, she looked down into her wineglass, taking a long moment before speaking.
“I know…I know it hasn’t always been easy. And I don’t think it’s a secret that it wasn’t exactly my choice.” A self-deprecating smile crept over her face. “But…I’m thankful I came back. Really.” She looked up at last, meeting Shane’s eyes first before glancing around the table. “Getting to work with all of you…getting toknowyou…it’s been really special. I’m thankful to have a second chance, I guess.”
“I’m thankful you’re back, too,” Shane said, to his own surprise. He must have still been woozy from the painkillers.
Lilah raised her eyebrow, obviously waiting for the punchline, but there was none. A few others exchanged glances, as if they were unsure whether he was being sarcastic, and a slightly uncomfortable silence settled over them.
“I’m just thankful you two are finally getting along,” Walt said with a world-weary sigh, defusing the tension, the rest of the table cracking up. Lilah raised her glass to Shane with a rueful smile, and he matched the gesture, waiting for her to look away first before he took a drink.
…
After dinner, they settled in the living room, taking a break to digest before dessert. Natalie found a battered Taboo box in the cabinet under the TV, and they set about dividing into two teams.
“We need to split up all the couples,” Margaux protested, pointing at Shane and Lilah.
