Carol launches into some parable of her ex-husband, but it’s background noise to me. I’m too caught up in parsing fact from fiction, weighing the kiss against Ellie insisting there’s nothing to discuss but the plan. And that friendship comment? Was she trying to say something? Or am I digging for a deeper meaning that’s not there?
“Is that okay with you, Murph?”
I tune back in at the sound of my name. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Aunt Carol wants to come with me to the Sip reopening tomorrow,” Ellie says. “Is that okay?”
A pinch of hope lifts the layer of fog off my brain. Ellie’s still planning to come. That makes me happier than it probably should. “Oh! Of course it’s okay. Everyone’s welcome. But yeah, it’d be great if you both could make it.”
“It’s your big day!” Ellie says. “We wouldn’t miss it. Plus you owe me a chaicoffski, remember?”
How could I forget? “Maybe I can give you a tour too.”
I can hardly believe myself, agreeing to more plans with this family beyond the limits of Thanksgiving. I guess that meansEllie and I will have to keep up the act tomorrow…right? Or are we supposed to turn back into just friends at the stroke of midnight?
“How’s around three o’clock?” Carol suggests. “That’s usually when I break for lunch.”
“Perfect. Things should be slowing down around then.”
“Totally cool.” She beams at Ellie and gives her two big thumbs-up. “Can you believe it, El Bell? We’re gonna get the VIP treatment.” Carol claps in excitement, and the noise combined with the jangle of her bracelets startles Bo into a barking fit, which, in turn, startles Otto awake.
“What?” Otto asks, frantic eyes ping-ponging across the room. “What happened? Is it time for dessert?”
Carol, Ellie, and I look at one another, then erupt into a rich, warm laughter. A family laugh. It’s enough to get Kara’s attention from the kitchen. “What’s so funny?” she shouts from the room over.
“Dad,” Ellie calls back.
Otto grunts. “What?”
“No, I mean Dad is what’s funny,” Ellie says with a giggle. “He fell asleep.”
“I wasn’t asleep,” Otto insists, but he yawns as he speaks, launching us right back into our laughing fit.
Kara ambles over from the kitchen with pursed lips and a damp dish towel slung over her shoulder. “Now that you’re awake, can you put something else on the TV? I’m sick of listening to football.”
“It’s Thanksgiving!” Otto says. “You watch football on Thanksgiving!”
“Maybeyouwatch football on Thanksgiving.” Carol jabs an accusatory finger through the air. “Personally, I watch the parade.”
“But ya missed the parade,” he sasses, “because that was in the morning.”
“I recorded it.” Kara gestures toward the pile of remotes on the coffee table. “It’s on the DVR.”
“I’m putting it on,” Ellie says, and Otto grumbles something to himself but doesn’t put up a fight. I watch in amusement as Ellie picks up one remote and then another, testing each one to see if it controls the DVR. Our parents may be different, but it’s comforting to know that the unlabeled remote pile is universal.
“What’s everyone’s favorite part of the parade?” Carol polls the group. “Mine is watching the lip-synchers screw up.”
Ellie moves on to a third, then a fourth remote. “I like when they show the crowd. I try to pick out any locals among the tourists.”
Kara insists that the Rockettes are the highlight, and Otto puts in a vote for the giant Snoopy balloon. When all eyes fall on me, I’m only slightly embarrassed to have nothing to contribute.
“I’ve never watched it,” I admit.
“Because you’re usually at the beach for Thanksgiving!” Otto chimes in with the enthusiasm of someone who just answered a toughJeopardyquestion. He looks toward me with a smile as wide as his face. “Right, Murph?”
I hold in a laugh. Every member of this family—well, everyone but Kara—has settled into using my nicknameextraordinarily quickly, and I’m surprised that I don’t mind. “Yup, my parents are in Florida as we speak,” I say.
“A destination Thanksgiving.” Kara gazes off into space, her face twisting as she tries to picture it. “I just can’t imagine.”
