“Tell me what you need me to do.”
Within an hour, Kevin and Tiffany were back in the kitchen. Elaine came with them, still wearing her winter coat.
Margaret had placed her phone on the table with the invitation open.
Kevin looked exhausted.
“I thought she had changed the venue,” he said.
Tiffany dropped her handbag onto a chair.
“I was going to speak to you again.”
“Tomorrow?” Margaret asked.
“I knew once everyone was here, you wouldn’t turn them away.”
The words landed without force or volume. That made them worse.
Elaine slowly unbuttoned her coat.
“You were going to bring us to a house where we weren’t invited?”
“You were invited.”
“By the person who owns it?”
Tiffany looked toward Kevin.
“Are you going to let them do this?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Margaret watched his face and felt the terrible familiarity of waiting for her own son to decide whether defending her was worth the inconvenience.
Tiffany reached into her bag and pulled out a folded sheet.
“I’ve already made the schedule. If we stop arguing, we can still manage.”
She spread it across the oak table.
Margaret saw her name printed beside nearly every task.
Begin turkeys. Prepare vegetables. Set dining table. Serve drinks. Clear plates. Wash dishes.
At the bottom, beneath a heading for family photographs, Tiffany had written: Margaret to finish kitchen.
Kevin picked up the page.
“You weren’t even going to include her?”
“She hates having her picture taken.”
Margaret looked at him.
“No, I don’t.”
His eyes moved over the schedule again.
Tiffany reached for it, but he set it flat on the table where everyone could see.
“You told me she wanted a job to keep her busy.”
“She does need things to do.”
Elaine closed her eyes briefly.
“Tiffany, stop.”
But Tiffany had found the explanation she usually trusted.
“She’s alone in this big house. We come over. We include her. I thought she’d appreciate having a purpose.”
Margaret’s breath caught.
Kevin put both hands on the back of a chair.
“My mother had a life before she started feeding us.”
