Carrie called Madeline at the B and B. Then Carrie tried her cell. She didn't answer that, either, so Carrie drove over to Cherry Hill, only to find the parking lot full. She had to drive about a block away down a side street before she found a spot.
She stormed down the sidewalk, painfully aware of the food aromas wafting from every single little house on the streetroasting turkey, gravy, stuffing, potatoes, pumpkin pie…
She'd eaten one rectangle of shredded wheat and a half cup of skim milk for breakast, and that was six hours ago. She was so hungry it felt like her stomach had given up waiting for food and had just started digesting itself. From one of the houses she heard raucous laughter.
She was going to strangle Madeline with her bare hands.
By two in the afternoon, Matt had made it back from a false alarm at the clinic, everyone was seated, and all the food was served. Riley said gracea simple prayer of thanks for fellowship and possibilitiesand then each person around the table named one thing they were thankful for.
No school for a week, Stephanie said.
Ice cream, Erin said.
Family, Barbara said.
The fact that God's hand is in all things, Cliff said.
My mom and dad, Aidan said.
Open minds, Rachel said.
Nola, Matt said.
Matt, Nola said.
I like what Rachel said, Richard said.
New friends, Jeff said.
Love, Riley said.
Forgiveness, Kat said.
Let's eat! Matt said. And they did.
Virgil's chest hurt. He called Rita, but she didn't answer. What day was it? Wasn't some sort of holiday coming up? He couldn't remember. He went into the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. The TV was on and there was some sort of parade. Then he remembered it was Thanksgiving.
Carrie walked right on through the front door of Cherry Hill. It wasn't locked. She clicked her way down the hallway, past rooms Madeline had given pompous names such as the parlor and the library. Carrie came to a halt at the entrance to the dining room.
Every seat at every table was taken, and guests were lined up like pigs at the trough trying to get to the buffet. She scanned the room for Madeline but didn't see her.
Excuse me, Carrie said, pushing her way through the line to get to the kitchen door.
I think that's employees only, an old man told her.
I'm an employee, Carrie said, slamming her hand against the swinging door.
In that case I should probably tell you we're low on yams.
Madeline was sitting at her kitchen table, wolfing down what looked like half a key lime pie. She stared up at Carrie like she was coming face-to-face with an alien.
What in the world are you doing here? she asked, wiping crumbs off her chin.
Does it give you some sort of perverse thrill or something, screwing with my life like this?
Madeline looked around the kitchen, like there might be someone else with whom Carrie was conversing. Huh?
Look, I'm sorry I was less than honest with you, all right? But you're fucking with my peace of mind now, and I won't stand for it.
Madeline wiped her mouth on a napkin. What are you even doing here today? The fund-raiser's tomorrow!
Ha! Funny. I am here because you told me the fund-raiser was /today/, you fat, dateless innkeeper!
Madeline stood up from the table, throwing down her napkin like it was a gauntlet. I never told you it was today, you bulimic bitch!
You did so tell me it was today!
I did /not/!
The kitchen door opened. It was the old man. We're waiting on those yams, he said.
Madeline scurried around the kitchen. Coming! She ran out to the dining room. While she was gone, Carrie hooked her finger and dragged it through the top of the key lime pie and ate the stuff right off her finger.
Madeline came back. Look, I'm kind of busy right now. So, if you don't mind…?
Mind what? Carrie asked.
Leaving.
Carrie huffed in disbelief. And go where? Nothing's open in this ridiculous town! It's Thanksgiving Day! I don't have anywhere to go!
Then go home and come back tomorrow.
No! I… well, no! I'm not driving all the way back to Charleston tonight, then back up tomorrow, and back down again tomorrow night! That would be an entire day of my life completely wasted!
Madeline shrugged. Then go get a hotel room somewhere.
I'll take my usual suite here.
Oh yeah? Madeline stopped what she was doing and stared at Carrie.
You'll be rooming with Mr. and Mrs. Cliff Turner of Cumberland, Maryland, and their two lovely granddaughters. Let me get you a key.
Carrie felt like she was cracking into tiny pieces. Many people might see this mix-up as a minor inconvenience, but on top of everything else she'd been through in the last few months, it was too much.
Then just forget it, she told Madeline, sick of the whole business, sick of her whole life. She was tearing up. You go ahead and e-mail anyone you want. Tell everyone that I make myself puke a few times a dayI don't think it will cause the state government to come to a screeching halt. I just don't care anymore. I was going to quit anyway. She turned to leave.
Madeline sounded just as tired. OK. Great. Whatever.
Carrie was about to exit the swinging door when her empty stomach twisted in on itself. How much is the Thanksgiving buffet? she asked.
Everything is fabulous, Jeff told Kat. You've done an incredible job.
Heads nodded all around while the forks kept moving. Kat beamed.
Sunshine?
She turned to her uncle, who was seated at her left elbow. Ready for more turkey? she asked him. As soon as she said the words, she saw that something was wrong. In fact, she'd been so busy that she hadn't admitted that something had been a little off all day. Cliff was acting worried. He seemed uncomfortable when he talked to her, which was not like him. Kat glanced at Barbara and saw the same discomfort in her expression.
Kat's heart fell to her stomach. Is something wrong?
It was probably the cadence of her voice, so unlike the laughter and lively conversation that had filled the house all day, but as soon as she asked her question, everything came to a standstill.
Cliff looked around the table, horrified. I… uh, it can wait, I guess.
Oh, Lord, Barbara mumbled.
Kat looked back and forth between them. Would somebody please tell me what's going on?
Barbara gestured to Cliff. I told you to wait until the end of the day if she didn't bring it up, but no, you had to say something right in the middle of dinner.
Cliff looked guilty.
What? Kat put her napkin in her lap and waited. Is it something about the charitable gift?
Cliff shook his head in the negative, dragging the tines of his fork across his gravy, making a serpentine design. Finally his eyes met Kat's. Did you look in all the boxes Rita gave you?
Kat was about to answer when a powerfully charged current of dread passed through her. It took her a few seconds to ask the most pressing question, which was, How the hell do you know Rita?
Cliff looked to his wife. She nodded for him to continue.
Did you open the boxes?
A couple of them, yes. Why?
Cliff began to grind his teeth.
Oh, Lord, Cliff! Barbara sighed. Kat, honey, I guess you didn't find anything in the boxes that you'd like to discuss with Cliff, would that be accurate to say?
Kat was baffled. She looked at Riley and he shrugged.
She put her napkin on the table and pushed her chair back. What are you talking about? How do you know about my mother and her boxes? Or Rita?
Or that Rita gave me the boxes? Kat's heart began to beat wildly.