Chapter 23 – Anna
TWENTY-THREE
ANNA
He betrayed her. Why did he do that?
Thanksgiving
I stood in front of his massive front door and took a deep breath.
I’d splurged on an Uber to get here instead of taking public transportation so I wouldn’t be sweaty. And I’d brought, what the guy at the liquor store said anyway, a nice bottle of wine.
I had also made cookies. They were just the break and bake kind, but I thought they’d turned out okay. It felt wrong not to contribute more than just a bottle of wine. After all, this was Thanksgiving. It was a big deal.
I’d finished my shift at the homeless shelter, which had been tough because I’d seen myself in so many of the people who I’d scooped out food for. I wanted to tell them all that anything was possible. That none of this was permanent if they didn’t want it to be.
Except for some of them, that wasn’t true and I knew it. Lost to their addictions or mental health problems, or the lasting impact of both, there was no getting out for so many. Just getting by.
It could have been me.
There were times I could convince myself I was different. But the truth was, it had been stupid luck. A wrong suite number. A ridiculous interview.
Timing, luck and one man’s whim.
I tried to shake off the feeling that none of this should be happening and brushed my hand down the front of my dress.
A dress I’d bought a few weeks ago. An impulse buy. I’d been looking for practical things like a new bra and underwear, and I’d passed a store that had this dress in the window. It was a deep forest green, and if I was being honest, it reminded me of E.G.’s eyes.
A silky material, it buttoned up the front and a string tie in the back pulled it in at the waist. I’d left the top three buttons undone. Then two, then three, then two again.
Now it was three. I was leaving it at three. It was supposed to be three. The woman at the store had said so.
I was one hundred percent okay with three buttons.
I rang the doorbell and immediately panicked. But between the wine, my purse and the tin of cookies, I had absolutely no time to fasten a button before the door opened, and it was Rebecca.
“Anna! So glad you’re here.”
Swallowing, I said thank you and followed her inside. The house was as intimidating as I remembered, only this time when Rebecca directed me back toward the kitchen where everyone was gathered, I could see pots all over the top of the island.
And they all appeared to be steaming.
“Anna!” Jackie called out as soon as she saw me, waving a wooden spoon in the air. “Glad you made it. Especially after volunteering all day.”
“How was it?” Evan asked me, one beer in his hand while he gave me a shoulder hug with the other. Not sure how I was supposed to respond to that, so I focused on not dropping any of my gifts. “Everything go all right at the shelter? Anyone get out of line?”
That was how E.G.’s family greeted me.
E.G., however, who was sitting at the end of the island, barely looked up in my direction. I couldn’t make out the expression that passed over his face before he gave me a weak chin nod and then turned to leave the kitchen.
“Uh, yeah. It was fine. One old guy wasn’t pleased with the sweet potatoes and made a bit of a fuss, but we got him some extra stuffing and it all worked out.”
I didn’t tell them I knew the old guy. His name was Gus and he was a piece of work. Threatened to spit in the sweet potatoes if he didn’t get more stuffing, the asshole. I shut him down hard and that worked to keep everyone else in line.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Evan asked me.
“Sure. Wine is fine. White or red, whatever is open. I brought you this. It’s a Sauv-vig-non Blanc. Did I say that right?”
“Very close,” Jackie said, smiling as she took the bottle from me in what felt like a choreographed move. Like she was just moving between the stove, the oven, the island and back to the stove in one elegant dance move.
I peeked out over the island and saw the round circles underneath the pots.
“I know,” Jackie said, reading my confusion. “I’m cooking on magic! Grant called it something. Convection, I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Where is Grant?” Rebecca muttered. “Did he leave to go watch football, seriously?”
“I also brought cookies.”
“Cool,” Rebecca said, taking the tin from my hand.
“They’re not fancy. Just some break and bakes, but I didn’t burn them.”
“Anna, relax,” Rebecca ordered. “Take some wine and go find Grant and tell him to be nicer to his guest.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.
Evan handed me a glass of white wine that was crisp, cold and delicious.
Naturally, I asked if there was anything I could do, but I was immediately rebuffed with the promise that Jackie would let me help clean up. Rebecca was attempting to move in sync with her mother. Evan was heading toward the library. It made sense to get out of the way, so I followed him.
E.G. was sprawled on one of the couches, in the smaller, more intimate space, his legs stretched out, his feet only in a pair of socks.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he returned, without turning his attention from the television that took up nearly half the wall.
“Where the heck is the painting?”
“Behind the television,” E.G. said.
Men and their priorities.
Feeling a little out of place, I took a seat in one of the chairs in the corner. It was hard and stiff. Which sort of matched my mood right now, so that was okay.
“Okay,” Rebecca announced, coming in from the kitchen. “Everyone stop eating snacks. Now. Dinner will be served in half an hour.”
I stood up again. “I can help with that.”
“Nope,” Rebecca said. “We’ve got it covered. We’re just going to eat around the island. No sense in setting that massive dining room table just for five us.”
“An architect designed that table,” E.G. said, again still looking at the television.
“Well, you should have more friends then, if you want to use it properly,” Rebecca shot at him.
“I can help with plates and stuff,” I offered.
“Covered,” Rebecca told me.
“I can refresh everyone’s drinks or something,” I suggested.
“Flowers, sit down and stop acting like a pathetic waif,” E.G. said, again without looking at me. “You heard Rebecca, everything is handled.”
Grasping the glass of wine in my hand, I slowly sank back down on the stiff chair. I knew Rebecca was looking at me. I think Evan was glaring at E.G., but I couldn’t lift my eyes to confirm that.
Because suddenly, they were a little wet.
I shouldn’t have come. He obviously didn’t want me here.
Stupid. So stupid.
Sitting here, letting him get to me. E.G. didn’t make me cry. That was my thing. I was the girl – no, the woman – he couldn’t make cry.
It was just the day catching up to me. Being back at the shelter. Being here with family, even if it wasn’t mine. So what if I was a little emotional? That was understandable. I took a sip of wine. There was a small round table next to my chair and I turned to set my glass down on it.
“You need a coaster for that,” E.G. barked at me.
“Oh. Right. Everything is so fancy. Of course.” I looked around and realized there was a drawer set into the table. Pulling on it, I found a stack of coasters. I set one down, and then, carefully, maybe too carefully, placed my wine glass down on top of it. How long until dinner? Twenty minutes?
“I’m just going to use the bathroom for a second.”
I knew where it was. Down the hall, just off the foyer. I thought I heard Evan saying something like E.G. needed to get his head out of his ass, but I couldn’t be sure. I closed the door behind me, leaned back against it and closed my eyes.
Willing the tears to dry up.
“Okay, think Anna,” I muttered. “Think.”
Option one. Walk out the front door, then down the block, call an Uber and maybe they won’t notice I ran away.
Felt a little cowardly.
Option two. Go back into the family room, throw a glass of wine in E.G.’s face, tell him he was being an asshole and then leave.
Felt a little reckless. He was, after all, my boss. Rent was due in a week.
Option three. Fake a migraine.
It was a socially acceptable move, but they would see right through me. And the truth was, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
Ignore him.
Clearly, he was in a mood, and I knew his moods better than most people.
He was making some kind of point. Putting on a show for his family, maybe.
He hadn’t done it at lunch yesterday, but this was today. In his home. On Thanksgiving, when he’d never really invited me. That had all been his mom’s doing. He’d made me think it was no big deal, my coming. But maybe he’d been more bothered by it than he let on.
Okay, I could do this. I could handle surly E.G. All I had to do was treat him like I would at the office. Just absorb the blows like they didn’t really hurt.
I splashed some cold water on my cheeks, buttoned up the third button on my shirt dress, and headed back into battle with my chin held high.
We were halfway through the turkey and stuffing when my worst fear was realized.
“Anna, where are your parents this year?” Jackie asked me casually, as everyone had plates in front of them they were digging into. “Back in New Jersey? Flying during the holidays can be a nightmare.”
I smiled back. Flirted with the idea of just agreeing with her. Or maybe changing the subject entirely.
“Flowers doesn’t have parents. She’s an honest to God orphan.”
I glared at E.G. across the long island. For the most part, he’d limited his rudeness to me and had focused instead on stuffing his face. But this? Now? When he knew how uncomfortable I was about the subject?
“What happened to letting me decide if I was going to answer those questions?” I asked him.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You were making too big a deal out of it,” he said offhandedly.
I could feel the tension build and had to put a stop to it. It was their family holiday and I wasn’t about to turn it into a drama.
I smiled casually and looked at Jackie. “He’s right. I make too big a deal out of it. But it’s all good now.”
Come on, Jackie. Work with me. I can see you want to hug me, but please DO NOT!
She seemed to take my cue. “More green bean casserole?”
“Yes, please. It’s so good. Those little onion crunchy things on top are amazing.”
“Don’t believe her, Mom. Flowers is lying,” E.G. said, and then smirked at me over his wine glass. “She doesn’t like vegetables.”
ASSHOLE!
I kept this to myself.
“I normally don’t, but this dish does a really good job of making me think I’m not eating vegetables. The entire dinner has been awesome actually. Thank you so much for having me.”
“Yeah,” Rebecca quipped. “We can tell you’re having a great time. Thanks, Grant.”
“What did I do?” he asked.
“What didn’t you do?” Rebecca shot back.
“Well, I could have been a real dick and told you the thing Flowers really doesn’t want you all to know. This time last year she was actually homeless. That shelter she volunteered at today, yeah, that used to be her old stomping grounds. Wasn’t it, Flowers?”
I heard Jackie gasp. I heard the scrape of Evan’s stool, like the bomb E.G. dropped had physically moved him.
Rebecca whipped her head in my direction and I froze. Absolutely froze. Like a deer in headlights, until I realized if I remained like that, I’d likely get hit by the car E.G. was driving.
I needed to stand. Collect my purse and leave. I’m pretty sure that was the proper social norm in this sort of situation.
I didn’t do that. Instead I took a big forkful of green beans and shoved it into my mouth.
“Super delicious.” I forced myself to swallow. “Who knew beans could be this freaking good? So when do I get my pie? I was told there would be pie.”