told them to “stay put.” Maureen had come over to the Coffeys’ that night, screaming and crying, was on the phone with the police in Portland, trying to get them over to her children. She’d flown out there the next morning and had come back with Cathy and Drew.
Maybe Harold visited once or twice after that, maybe he’d come to a birthday party that Cathy had, but Claire was fuzzy on that. And soon, as the years went by, they stopped talking about him at all. It was like he’d never even existed. Claire had no idea if he was a misogynist or not. Mostly she just thought he was a really shitty dad.
DOWNSTAIRS, WEEZY HAD A NEW APRON on that was already covered in stuffing and potatoes. The kitchen table had casserole dishes spread all over it, with different Post-it notes stuck to each one that said things like, Bake at 350 for 20 minutes, uncover for last 10, and Vegan Stuffing! And Put in the same time as sweet potatoes. And then there was one note that said, inexplicably, Will and Green Beans.
Weezy kept reaching up to push her hair out of her face. She looked hot and annoyed. Cathy, Ruth, and Maureen had arrived and all crowded themselves into the kitchen. They were chatting away, believing themselves to be kind in keeping Weezy company, but Claire knew that all Weezy wanted was for them to get the hell out of her kitchen so that she could spill and curse and cook in peace.
Will and Bets were in the living room, watching the TV in silence. They both seemed happy. Will just wanted to watch the football game, and Bets was probably just gauging the blackness of the NFL players on this screen as opposed to her own.
Max and Cleo were in the basement. They’d been kind of quiet all weekend, and she thought they might have had a fight of some kind. Poor Max. It wasn’t easy to deal with a significant other in this household.
Martha was at the stove, stirring apples and cranberries and looking worried. She’d made this dish every year for the past ten years, and still every time she fretted about it and tasted it, apologizing to everyone that it wasn’t quite right, until people praised it so much that she smiled down at her plate and said, “It’s not that hard.”
When Claire walked into the kitchen, Weezy was arranging appetizers on a platter and Cathy was eating crackers and talking about her job, which had something to do with computer programming. Ruth saw Claire and gave her a hug. “Hi!” she said, like they hadn’t just seen each other the night before. Claire always liked Ruth, and sometimes wanted to pull her aside and say, “You know you can do better than Cathy, right? You’re way nicer.”
“Okay then,” Weezy said. She clapped her hands and then held them together like she was praying, which maybe she was, for strength to make it through the day. “Ruth? Would you take these out to the family room and then why doesn’t everyone head out that way to spend some time with Bets.”
Ruth nodded and picked up the tray of cheese and crackers. Cathy followed behind her, still talking about her job—something about a man named Brett, and why he was responsible for spreading a virus throughout the company.
“What can I do to help?” Maureen asked.
“Nothing. Really, we’re all set. You can go relax.”
“I think I forgot to add cinnamon,” Martha said. “Oh shoot!” The mixture boiled and spit a little bit, and Martha jumped back to avoid it.
“I can stay in here,” Maureen said. But Weezy just shook her head, and Maureen got up and headed out, looking like she was being punished. During Thanksgiving, Maureen ended up sulking and smoking in corners of the backyard, looking like a teenage version of herself.
“I’ll go see if people need drinks,” Claire said. She took orders in the family room—white wine spritzer for Bets, beer for Cathy, white wine for Ruth, and for Maureen “anything with vodka.”
“Do you want some help?” Will asked, but his eyes were still on the game.
“I’m good.”
Claire went to the bar and first made herself a large Bloody Mary with olives. After a few sips of that, she took the drinks to the family room and delivered them to each person with a napkin. She took her drink and walked down to the basement, knocking on the doorframe.
“You guys? Are you