Chapter 25
Fiona’s house smelled as if every single container from the supermarket’s spice aisle had collided. Sage, thyme, and rosemary warred for dominance with curry, chili, and lemongrass.
The mix of aromas from the Thanksgiving potluck Fiona was hosting reminded Willow of eating at the pod of food carts with Scottie. She wished she were back there instead of in Fiona’s full house.
The living room, dining area, and kitchen were packed with guests.
Fiona fluttered from one group to the next like the social butterfly she was, while Willow had volunteered to act as a bartender.
At least pouring wine and mixing cocktails kept her busy and gave her an excuse to stay at the edge of the party instead of being drawn into the center.
Fiona’s cats seemed as unamused by all the visitors as Willow was. Sugar had escaped upstairs to hide under Fiona’s bed as soon as the first guests had arrived. Spice perched on top of the fridge somewhere behind and above Willow, ears back, and glared down at the chaos.
“Same, girl,” Willow muttered. “Same.”
Someone walked up to the kitchen island that served as a makeshift bar.
Willow turned and gave the woman—Melissa? Marissa?—a polite smile.
“Hi,” the stranger said. “I heard you were the woman to talk to for the good drinks.”
“What can I get you?” Willow asked, ignoring the flirty tone.
“Why don’t you surprise me?” Melissa or Marissa answered. “I trust you.”
Willow lifted her brows. “A risky thing to say to an amateur bartender.”
Melissa/Marissa flashed her a grin and leaned one elbow on the counter. “Maybe I like risky.”
Ah. She had to be the colleague Fiona had mentioned—the one who was queer, single, and looking. Willow had a feeling her sister had invited her in the hopes they would hit it off. Melissa/Marissa seemed nice enough, but Willow wasn’t interested.
She put on her professional bartender expression.
The flirty colleague probably hoped for a Sex on the Beach or another cocktail with a suggestive name, but Willow made her a simple gin and tonic—a drink without any hidden messages.
She garnished the glass with a slice of cucumber, then slid it across the counter.
Melissa/Marissa took a sip. “Ooh, you’re hired! Best drink ever!”
“Glad you like it.” Willow gave her a weak smile, then turned away under the pretense of having to cut more lemons.
After a moment, Melissa/Marissa gave up her attempts to flirt with her and drifted back into the living room.
Spice sent a hiss after her from on top of the fridge.
“Yeah, I know,” Willow murmured. “That was beyond awkward.”
Nothing like her interactions with Scottie at all.
She kept picturing Scottie and the easy way she would navigate a crowd like this.
No doubt she would charm everyone effortlessly, leaving them bent over with laughter.
Willow didn’t want to admit how much she wished Scottie was there to “rescue” her, as she had during Barb’s two retirement parties.
Was Scottie having fun at her parents’ house?
Willow pulled out her phone. Should she text Scottie to tell her happy Thanksgiving?
She hesitated.
Scottie was with her family, and Willow didn’t want to interrupt. But then again, a two-word message wouldn’t be much of an interruption, right? It would be just a polite text between friends.
The thought of reaching out and connecting with Scottie proved too much to resist. She typed a quick message—merely saying Happy Thanksgiving—and then spent much too long debating whether to add an emoji.
Finally, she decided on a turkey emoji, hoping to make her text appear less boring but not too personal either.
She stared at it for a second, then hit send before she could talk herself out of it.
~ ~ ~
Scottie leaned against the counter in her parents’ kitchen, dish towel at the ready.
Her dad stood at the sink with his sleeves rolled up and his arms up to his elbows in suds. He rinsed off a casserole dish and handed it to Scottie to dry.
Ben and Hazel, two of her almost siblings, waited behind her, passing plates and glasses down the line until her cousin Noah put them away.
They fell into a comfortable rhythm, honed by years of practice.
The scent of roasted turkey and sweet potato casserole still hung in the air.
Laughter and shouts drifted over from the living room, where the rest of the clan had crowded onto couches and armchairs to watch the football game. Her mother was the loudest, trading playful barbs with Uncle Dave about the score.
Scottie wondered how Willow would fare with her noisy family. Would she hide in a corner, or would she relax and let them draw her into a conversation, the way she did with Scottie?
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
Scottie wiped her hands on the dish towel and checked her messages.
Probably another meme from Kassidy, who had sent her a picture of two turkeys earlier, one of them asking, What are you thankful for? And the other one replying: Vegans.
But it was a text, not a meme, and it wasn’t from Kassidy—it was from Willow. The message simply read: Happy Thanksgiving. Willow had added a turkey emoji.
Just a short line, but it brought a smile to Scottie’s face. She hadn’t expected to hear from Willow today, and knowing Willow was thinking about her on Thanksgiving—even for a second—felt special.
Scottie tossed the dish towel at Ben, who caught it neatly. “Take over for a minute, would you?” Without waiting for his answer, she typed a reply.
Happy Thanksgiving to you too. Are you surviving your sister’s party so far?
Willow’s reply appeared almost instantly. Barely.
The noise in the Prescott household faded away as Scottie and Willow typed back and forth.
No one there to rescue you from others coming over to make small talk? Scottie added a winking smiley face.
Not a single soul, Willow replied. I had to answer questions about how I like the Portland weather half a dozen times.
It wasn’t exactly an I miss you, but Scottie would take it.
How are things at Casa Prescott? Willow asked.
Instead of explaining, Scottie lifted her phone, took a snapshot of the living room, and sent it to Willow: Her mom, uncles, aunts, and cousins involved in heated discussions about football, the now-adult daycare kids sitting with their backs against the couch the way they had when they’d been little, and her cousins’ offspring rushing around on a sugar high from the pie.
Willow sent a wide-eyed emoji. Wow. Big family! I had no idea you had so many siblings!
Well, technically, I don’t, Scottie replied. Just a couple of cousins. But my mom ran a daycare out of our house when I was growing up. There were always kids around, so I never felt like an only child. Some of them became almost like foster siblings and are still part of the family.
That explains it, Willow texted back.
Explains what? Scottie asked.
Why you’re so good with people.
Willow’s compliment warmed Scottie more than the food in her belly.
“What’s got you grinning like that?” Her father’s voice brought her back to the kitchen. “Or should I say who? Haven’t seen you glued to your phone like that since you were sixteen and had your first girlfriend.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. She shoved the phone into her back pocket.
Within seconds, several of Scottie’s cousins and almost siblings crowded around her.
“Ooh! Scottie’s got a new girlfriend!” Ben said in a singsong voice.
Scottie took the dish towel from him and gave him a playful snap with it. “There is no girlfriend.”
“Why didn’t you bring her?” her mother called from the living room.
Scottie grimaced. Figures that her mom would hear that one sentence even over the noise from the TV. She cupped her hands around her mouth, forming a makeshift megaphone, to make sure the entire family heard her. “I repeat: I do not have a new girlfriend.”
Her mother made a sound of disappointment and returned her attention to the football game.
But Ben, Hazel, and Noah weren’t as easily deterred.
“If there’s no girlfriend, why are you blushing?” Hazel asked.
“Because I’m embarrassed for you lot,” Scottie shot back.
“Okay, that’s enough. Out!” Her father flicked suds at them. “All of you.”
Reluctantly, they trooped out of the kitchen.
When Scottie wanted to follow her cousin and the daycare alumni, her dad held on to the back of her sweater. “Not you. Sit and tell me what had you grinning at your phone like that.” He pulled out one of the barstools from the kitchen island.
Scottie climbed up and dangled her feet the way she had as a kid. It was comforting to see that some things never changed.
Her father calmly looked at her, waiting for her to explain without pressuring her.
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” she finally said. “It’s…complicated.”
He nodded. “I can imagine. After what Tanya did to you, it’s only natural that the next relationship would feel a little complicated.”
“No, Dad. That’s not it. There is no relationship. I was texting a friend; that’s all.”
He studied her for a while. “Okay. But if you ever want to talk—about that friend or anything else, I’m here.” He moved to clean the sink, giving her space.
“Thanks, Dad,” Scottie said hoarsely. She wanted to tell him about Willow, about how she could make being stuck in an elevator or waiting for AAA fun. But how could she explain their practice dates? How could she tell him more about the situation, when she didn’t know what “more” was there to tell?
Sighing, she folded the dish towel and joined the rest of the family in the living room.