She rolled her eyes. “That sounds about as much fun as saying, ‘I’ll spend the time throwing up with the flu.’”

Sophia laughed in spite of her repossessed car. “Sleep sounds wonderful to most adults. You’ll understand when you grow up. Besides, I don’t have a turkey to bake or anything else to feed you for dinner. What will you eat if you stay here?”

“I’ll eat whatever you eat.”

Now that her Mercedes was gone, Sophia had no idea what that would be. Although she hadn’t told Alexa this, she’d been thinking about going to Sacramento to visit her mother. She figured that if she could marshal the resolve, they’d eat the special Thanksgiving feast prepared by the cafeteria—or she’d go out and bring something in, if her mother had a special request. And if it went well, if she felt encouraged, maybe she’d start taking Alexa over for regular visits. Skip hadn’t been willing to expose his daughter to Elaine, but now...things were different.

It all depended on how her mother behaved. Sophia couldn’t take Alexa back there if Elaine insisted on acting inappropriately, as she so often did since succumbing to her disease. “I’d rather you went, really.”

Still unconvinced, Alexa shuffled over and gave Sophia a hug. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”

She’d rather stick a fork in her eye. “I’ll have a better time here, promise.”

“Okay...I’ll call Grandma.”

Sharon said she’d come, but asked if Alexa could stay the night. Because the cousins were also staying, and Sophia felt Alexa needed a night to just forget and have fun, she agreed. By two o’clock her daughter and Ted were both gone and Sophia had the whole place to herself.

She called her mother, hoping for a small glimmer of recognition—anything that might connect her with the positive memories she had of her childhood. But Elaine was so drugged she barely said anything. When she did talk it was to claim that she had spiders and snakes in her bed.

At her mother’s insistence, Sophia spoke to a nurse, just so she could convince Elaine that she’d done all she could to make sure there were no spiders or snakes—but she already knew there wouldn’t be. Her mother had been having the same delusion for years.

25

When Ted ran home to get something he’d forgotten for Thanksgiving dinner and found a box of cold cereal sitting on his dining room table next to a bowl and a spoon, he knew something was up. He hadn’t had cold cereal that morning—or any morning the previous week. And he certainly hadn’t eaten it by candlelight. Yet the candle that Sophia had bought for his romantic dinner with Eve several weeks ago was on the table, as if whoever had eaten that cereal had tried to add a little celebration to it.

He walked over and turned the box toward him. Golden Crisp—recently opened.

The candle smelled as if it had just been extinguished and the wax was still warm. He doubted a burglar would break in to eat Sophia’s favorite cereal over candlelight on Thanksgiving afternoon, which meant she’d probably done it. But why? Why wasn’t she at the DeBussis’?

He heard the murmur of a female voice coming from the direction of the kitchen. Sophia was in the house, all right. She was talking to someone. Alexa? Their plans must’ve fallen through. Or maybe, like him, they’d forgotten something—some ingredient they knew he wouldn’t mind their taking from his pantry—and somehow come back for it. He’d returned for a bottle of wine—a Napa Valley pinot grigio that was his mother’s favorite, which he brought to Thanksgiving every year. He couldn’t believe he’d driven off without it this morning, but he’d been distracted by the repossession of Sophia’s car and trying to make sure he wouldn’t be late when he picked up Eve. Then there was his dilemma over the pumpkin dessert Sophia had given him. He knew his mother wouldn’t even try it, not if she guessed—and she would—that Sophia had baked it, so he couldn’t take it to dinner. He couldn’t leave it in the house where she might find it, either, or share it with Eve’s family. So he’d eaten what he could in his car, dumped the rest in the garbage behind the liquor store and put the pan in his trunk before he reached his girlfriend’s.

At least that dessert had been good—one of the best he’d ever tried. As far as he was concerned, his mother had lost out because of her attitude. Already, he regretted disposing of what he couldn’t eat and wished he’d figured out a way to save it for later.

“Hello?” he called.

There was no answer, but as he headed down the stairs, he recognized Sophia’s voice. She wasn’t talking to Alexa. And she wasn’t in the kitchen. She was sitting on the steps leading down to his wine cellar, talking on her cell phone. If Alexa was around, she didn’t seem to be in his house.

He was pretty sure Sophia hadn’t heard him call out and didn’t know he was there. He was about to make her aware of his presence, to ask where Alexa was and why they both weren’t at Thanksgiving dinner, when he heard the tears in her voice. She was trying to talk to her mother, but whatever was being said on the other end of the line was upsetting her. She kept saying, “Mom, listen to me. The nurses checked your bed.” And then, “It’s Sophia. Your daughter, remember? Sophia?”

Finally, she grew so frustrated she hung up and sat staring at the bottle of wine she had clasped in her other hand. “Hey, what’s going on?”

She was so startled when he spoke that she nearly dropped the wine as she twisted around to face him. Then she scrambled to her feet. “Ted! I’m sorry! I—I didn’t expect you back until late tonight.”

Her face went so red he could tell she was mortified to be caught crying on the steps of his wine cellar. “It’s no problem. But why aren’t you at your in-laws’?”

“Oh...I—I decided not to go at the last minute.”

Was that true? Or had she not been invited? Eve had once told him how badly the DeBussis treated her. He hadn’t thought too much about that earlier—relationships within a family could go back and forth, and some did, quite often—but Eve’s words stood out in his mind now. “And Alexa?”

“Sharon picked her up an hour ago.”

“So you’re here alone.”

“Yeah.” She smiled as if she didn’t have tears in her eyes. “It’s a nice break. I—I’m grateful for the solitude. As a mother, you never get much time to yourself.”

She was trying too hard to sell it. He played along, but Thanksgiving generally wasn’t a time people wanted to be alone. “It’s always nice to have some peace and quiet,” he said.

“Exactly.” She lifted the wine bottle. “I was going to pay you for this. I—I wasn’t just going to take it. I hope you know that.”

He trusted her. Since he’d started having her pay for his groceries with a credit card, he often found the receipts with two or three bucks and some change on his kitchen counter for whatever little thing she’d picked up for herself or Alexa. “Either way, it’s fine. You’re welcome to whatever food I have. I’ve told you that before.”

“I appreciate it, but I don’t want to take advantage. And...just so you know, I don’t usually come into your house when you’re gone. I merely wanted—” she lifted the wine again “—to get this.”

He didn’t mention the Golden Crisp on his dining room table. “It’s no problem, like I said.”

“Thanks.” With a smile that was obviously intended to mask what she was really feeling, she hurried down the stairs to return the wine bottle to the rack.

“I thought you wanted that,” he said when she walked back up.

“Oh, no. Not really. I was just...thinking about it. But I’ve changed my mind.”

“Because I came home?”

“No, because I’d rather save my money.”

“Consider it a Thanksgiving gift—a trade for that great dessert you gave me.”

“You liked it?”

“You bet.”

“Good. I’m putting together a book of your favorite recipes for your next housekeeper. I’ll add that one.”