helpers in the kitchen that Eliza made everyone but Kayla and Mandy leave, and the three of them got everything set on the table and buffet. At five o’clock, Eliza announced that dinner was served. Everyone began to load up their plates in that artful way one does on Thanksgiving. The colors alone were enough to make their mouths water. Soon the phrases “This is delicious,” “Yum,” and “Pass the gravy” could be heard from every direction.
The conversation was light. No politics, and everyone knew to steer away from hot-button topics. Between Olivia’s recent drama and the ominous presence of Carson Cole, it was best to keep things upbeat. And that’s how it went.
“Are you excited for the play?”
“Have you two decided what you are going to major in?”
“How do you like living on Main Street?”
“Is your baby always this good?”
Until very innocently, and quite out of nowhere, Mr. Barr said, “Kevin, I never knew that Kayla had a twin. I guess you weren’t much of a theater kid.”
“No, not at all. I spent most of my time on the lacrosse field or in shop class.”
Mandy’s dad cut in: “Is that fellow Mr. DeLuca still the shop teacher? He was on my bowling team for a season or two. Single guy, used to flirt with all the ladies.”
Hearing his name spoken at her table felt like a quick punch to her gut.
“No,” Kevin said, “I had Mr. Delgais. Mr. DeLuca was a legend, though. Everybody said he was the greatest teacher—he died recently. They dedicated the auditorium to him at graduation.”
“Oh, that’s a nice honor.”
Eliza had a hard time getting air.
Mr. Barr put down his fork. “I was completely against that. In fact, it infuriated me.”
Mandy’s father made a joke. “Why? You wanted them to save it for you?”
“Let’s just say there were rumors about him being inappropriate with some of the students. Too many for it not to be somewhat true.”
Carson rolled his eyes. “Here we go,” he said under his breath.
Amanda looked right at him and shut him down with one word: “Don’t.”
He listened and filled his mouth with turkey. As he did, Eliza said quietly, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “I was raped by Mr. DeLuca when I was seventeen.”
She looked back down at her plate and moved her food around a bit. Her daughter, Kayla, let out a gasp, followed by a teary “Mom.” Luke, who was sitting at the head of the table, dropped his wineglass, and it shattered on his plate. Red wine splattered everywhere, yet literally no one moved to clean it up. Tears trickled down Kevin’s face. And then, as they all watched, Eliza picked up her plate, still full of food, and stood up. She looked at Mandy.
“Should we clear the dishes?” she asked, in a stupor.
Amanda led her away from the table. “I think people are still eating. Why don’t we go upstairs?”
She let Amanda lead her away. Luke instructed everyone to stay put and followed them up. Sadie and Pippa were soon in tears, too; Sadie’s were quite uncontrollable. It was obvious that Carson was feeling both guilty and overwhelmed. Alison and Olivia took the girls away, offering up the babies as a good distraction. Dean Barr was ashen, completely destroyed by what his comment had ignited. Mandy’s dad tried his best to make him feel better.
By the time Mandy came down, everyone had dispersed from the table. Kayla, clearly her mother’s daughter, was bagging up the leftovers into Tupperware and Ziploc bags to send everyone home with food for when, if ever, their appetites came back. Dean approached Mandy.
“I’m going to go. I feel awful.”
“It’s OK. I’ll walk you out.”
As Amanda stepped out of the house she remembered lying on the front lawn when she was a little girl, staring at the clouds, wondering if that moment was real or just a dream. It felt a bit like that right now. Unreal.
The streetlights came on, flooding her with more memories: the hours she had spent with Eliza running around with the neighborhood kids playing Capture the Flag or Red Light, Green Light, until those same lights signaled it was time to go home for dinner. She had thought theirs was the most innocent of childhoods, until tonight.
She pictured their teenage years, dousing themselves in Love’s Baby Soft and putting on mascara on the school bus in an effort to get the attention of their teacher-crushes. At the time, flirting that way had felt just as harmless