Your mother told Susan that they were simplifying this year. An idea began forming in my mind. A delicious, satisfying idea. Aunt Diane, how would you feel about having Thanksgiving at my place this year? Your place? Honey, I don’t want you to go to any trouble. It wouldn’t be trouble. I promise. I smiled, looking out at my grounds again.
I have plenty of space. Well, if you’re sure, that would be lovely. Should I tell the others? Actually, let me reach out to everyone. I want to do this properly. Over the next two weeks, I contacted every aunt, uncle, and cousin who’d been excluded from Madison’s exclusive Thanksgiving. Aunt Diane and Uncle Frank, Aunt Susan, and Uncle Mike.
my cousins Jennifer, David, and Marcus with their families. Uncle Paul and Aunt Linda, my mother’s brother and sister-in-law who had been married for 35 years. Even my grandmother’s sister, great aunt Dorothy, who was 87 and still sharp as attack. Every single one of them said yes. I hired a catering company that specialized in high-end events.
I arranged for a photographer because I wanted to remember this day. I had the house deep cleaned and decorated with elegant fall arrangements. The dining room in my estate could seat 24 people comfortably, and I had rented additional tables for the overflow into the adjacent sitting room. Nobody in my immediate family knew where I lived.
I’d kept that information private deliberately. All my mail went to a PO box, and I’d been careful about social media. My profiles were locked down tight with privacy settings that would make a cyber security expert proud. The morning before Thanksgiving, I was overseeing the delivery of rental chairs when my phone buzzed with a message from Madison.
Madison, hope you have a nice, quiet Thanksgiving alone. Maybe you’ll finally understand that actions have consequences. I almost laughed. The projection was stunning. I’d spent my entire childhood and young adult life trying to figure out what I’d done to deserve their treatment. I was quieter than Madison, more bookish. I like different things.
I chosen a different college, a different career path, a different life. And for that, I was consistently treated as lesser than me. I’m sure I’ll have a memorable Thanksgiving. You too, Madison. We always do. Some of us know how to maintain family bonds. I didn’t respond. There was no point. Thanksgiving morning arrived cold and clear.
I woke early and did a final walkthrough of the house. The caterers would arrive at 8. My guests would start showing up around 11:00. Dinner was scheduled for 2:00 in the afternoon. I was in the kitchen going over the menu with the catering manager when my security system chimed. Someone was at the front gate. I pulled up the camera feed on my tablet and felt my stomach drop.
My father’s car was idling at the entrance with my mother in the passenger seat, Madison in the back, and Tyler driving behind them in his own vehicle. They’d found me somehow. They’d found me. I watched as my father pressed the intercom button. Rebecca, we know you’re in there. Open this gate right now. My hands shook slightly as I pressed the talk button.
How did you get this address? That doesn’t matter. Open the gate. We need to talk to you. We don’t have anything to discuss. I’m busy today. You’re busy? My father’s voice tripped with sarcasm. Doing what? sitting in your little apartment feeling sorry for yourself. I’m not opening the gate. Please leave. Like hell, I will. You’ve poisoned our entire extended family against us.
