The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,73
they'd settle down, and be good sports when the day came, but she realized on Thanksgiving Day that her optimism had been unfounded. When the doorbell rang and he arrived, all three girls were still very angry with her.
Bill walked in wearing a tweed jacket, gray slacks, and a red tie, and Liz was wearing a brown velvet pantsuit. The children were all neatly dressed, and Peter was wearing the same suit he'd worn at his father's funeral, Jamie his gray flannels and blazer. They were a handsome group, and as Liz poured Bill a glass of wine, she was suddenly glad that he had joined them. She realized suddenly how empty the table would seem to all of them without their father there. It would have turned into another mournful memory of him, and this way they had to keep up a good front, and talk to Bill, and each other.
They sat down to their Thanksgiving meal at five o'clock as they always did, and she said grace, as they bowed their heads. She thanked God for the many blessings they shared, the people at their table, and those who were absent, and specifically Jack. There was a long moment of silence after she said it, and Megan looked pointedly at Bill Webster. And then Liz said “Amen” and went out to the kitchen with Peter to get the turkey.
Peter was seated at the head of the table, which reminded everyone again that things were different, and the new face seated next to Liz emphasized it even further.
The bird itself was a splendid specimen, and Liz had cooked it to perfection. Carole was off for the weekend, and the girls had helped her make the stuffing. Rachel particularly liked to cook, and Jamie had helped them. But when Peter tried to carve, he proved to be hopelessly inept, and Liz had never been good at carving. Bill stepped to the head of the table with a smile.
“Let me give you a hand, son,” he said amiably. He was enjoying the family scene around the table. It had been years since he'd celebrated a real Thanksgiving. He was always working. But his choice of words had run through Megan's heart like a sword, and she spoke barely audibly but loud enough for Bill to hear her.
“He's not your son,” she said in a venomous tone. Bill looked surprised and glanced at Liz, and then turned to Megan.
“I'm sorry, Megan. I didn't mean to offend anyone.” There was total silence then as he carved the bird, and he was good at it. And as Liz handed out their full plates she chatted a little too much and a little too hard to compensate for the awkward moment. But by the time Bill sat down again, everyone had calmed down.
The table was quieter than usual this year. It was their first Thanksgiving without their father, and everyone was aware that the agony of Christmas was coming.
Bill asked if they'd done their Christmas shopping yet, and everyone looked mournful at the question. They were not an easy group to entertain, but eventually Jamie made them laugh at something he said, and Annie chimed in, and reminded them of the year that Dad had dropped the turkey on the kitchen floor while he was carving it, and no one had told Mom. She never knew it had slid halfway across the floor before she served it.
Bill laughed along with them, and Liz poured him another glass of wine, and when they took the plates out to the kitchen and brought back the pies, Rachel said loudly that he drank too much, and Bill heard her.
“It's okay, Rachel, I'm not on call today,” he said with a warm smile, but she didn't respond, and he went on talking to Jamie. Bill was certainly not drunk, but he'd had three glasses of wine by then and seemed comfortable and happy. He'd been talking to Jamie about football.
“Dad hated football.” Megan added insult to injury, she was goading him, and they all knew it.
“I'm sorry to hear that, Meg. It's a great sport. I used to play in college.”
“Dad said only morons and brutes play football,” she said then, stepping over the line, and her mother was quick to stop her.
“Megan, that's enough!”
“Yes, it is, Mom!” She threw down her napkin and stood up with tears in her eyes. “Why does he have to be here with us? He's not our father, he's just your boyfriend.”