45. Settlement
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
SETTLEMENT
Claire
“I don’t think he’s expecting me to forgive him.”
The words stop me outside the kitchen, and I freeze just beyond the doorway.
Lucy’s voice is gentle. “How does that make you feel?”
“I don’t know.” Ellie’s answer is so quiet I almost miss it. “He mostly just... listens now.” Another silence. “I still get mad.”
Lucy doesn’t interrupt.
“But...” Ellie sighs. “It’s different than it was.”
“Different how?”
“He doesn’t keep trying to convince me everything’s okay anymore.” I hear the scrape of a chair. “He lets me be mad.”
“And?”
“And...” Another long pause. “I think he finally gets that he hurt me too. Not just Mom.”
“How have the family therapy sessions been?”
Ellie lets out a humorless laugh. “Awkward.”
“I’d imagine.”
A beat passes before Ellie speaks again. “But I don’t hate staying with him every other weekend anymore.”
I quietly back away from the door, guilt prickling at the back of my neck for eavesdropping.
Thanksgiving looks different this year.
The realization settles as I stand at the kitchen island, helping Lucy arrange serving dishes.
The aroma of roasted turkey and warm rolls fills the room.
Outside, the late November sun hangs low.
Muffled family voices drift in from the living room.
Last year, Ethan stood beside me, carving the turkey, while Ellie, then twelve, complained about setting the table.
The year before, he burned the rolls, insisting they were “artisan.”
This year, his chair sits empty.
I invited him, of course, because he’s still Ellie’s father. He thanked me, when he declined, explaining that his parents insisted he join them in Florida. The answer brought an initial wave of relief, which made perfect sense. The dull throb of disappointment that followed did not.
The house steadily fills up throughout the afternoon. My dad arrives first and finds chores nobody asks him to do.
Aunt Sarah and Uncle Jeremy appear with their arms laden with enough food to feed a small army. As usual they engage in an argument about who forgot the cranberry sauce. The familiar rhythm of family settles around the house and I relax into its embrace.
More than anything, I watch Ellie.
She moves easily through the crowded house helping Lucy in the kitchen, and stealing bites of food when she thinks no one is looking.
Vivienne arrives, two homemade desserts and a bottle of wine in hand. She helps Sarah in the kitchen, teases my dad, and fills the room with laughter, recounting hospital stories.
When it’s time to eat, we fill every chair but one around the long oak table. At one point, Vivienne leans forward teasing Jensen.
“Stop, Vivi,” he says, his voice firm.
“Oh yes, Jens,” she counters.
“Vivi,” he growls with a warning.
“He’s so secretive,” she says with a triumphant smile, but she heeds his warning.
My dad eventually suggests that everyone share something they’re thankful for; the predictable groans only encourage him. One by one, family members answer.
He starts with his usual line of being thankful for elastic waistbands.
Sarah is thankful for tradition. Jeremy is thankful for another successful harvest. Ellie is thankful for her friends.
Vivienne is thankful she found a home in Juniper Ridge, and mentions old friendships.
Jensen says he’s thankful for Lucy and the family they’re working so hard to build.
When Lucy’s turn comes, she glances at Jensen before answering. “I’m thankful for hope.” No one reaches for their wine.
“I’m thankful for the people who hold me up when I don’t have the strength to stand on my own,” I say.
Sloane breaks the moment by stating that she’s thankful Jensen is still too busy to accompany Lucy to doctors’ appointments so she gets to see, “The Sexy Stork Whisperer.”
The conversation shifts when Peter asks about the progress of fertility treatments.
Lucy reaches for Jensen’s hand before answering. “We’re moving forward with IVF.”
Questions follow: How are the medications going? When is the retrieval? How is she feeling?
“Honestly, it depends on the day. Sometimes I feel hopeful, others I feel terrified. Most days I feel both,” she replies.
Jensen presses a kiss against the back of her hand. “We’re taking it one step at a time.”
The discussion continues. At one point, Vivienne explains part of the retrieval process from a nursing perspective.
I notice the ease with which she and Jensen navigate conversations.
She anticipates his words, references his work schedule with surprising accuracy, and even finishes one of his stories when he gets distracted.
None of it seems to signify anything, at least not that I can identify. Vivienne and Jensen have been friends for years; their shared history predates the rest of us, and Lucy never appears threatened by it.
Yet, I pay attention in a way I never would have before. Perhaps betrayal changes one’s perception of the world.
Later, as everyone lingers over dessert and coffee, Ellie’s phone rings. She steps away to answer, but like most thirteen-year-olds, she hasn’t mastered the art of an indoor voice.
I can tell from the conversation that she’s talking to Ethan. They talk for a few minutes, and I hear her laughing. After she hangs up, her phone beeps and we hear a peal of delight. Then I realize she’s showing everyone a ridiculous photo of Ethan wearing a Hawaiian shirt.
My dad grumbles that nobody should be allowed to wear that much yellow.
That’s when I slip onto the back porch for some fresh air. I’m unsurprised when Sloane follows me, carrying pie and coffee. Before I know it, she’s turned the evening into an investigation involving “Jens” and “Vivi,” and what she describes as suspicious and annoying nickname activity.