Page 166 of Say Yes to the Death

Luke reached underneath her mane of hair and pulled out a wadded-up burger wrapper. He looked happier than she’d seen him in a month.

“God, I love you,” he said, tossing the wrapper back into the trash and pulling Claire in for another heated kiss.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

To Do:

- Safety tips for California

- Buy Christmas presents

- Hide wine in every room-vases?

Luke’s house smelled like turkey, stuffing, and despite Claire’s best efforts, burnt gravy on Thanksgiving Day.

“Goddammit, Martha Stewart, how do I carve this bird?” she screeched at her phone. A sheen of sweat covered her forehead, and her hair was getting more frazzled by the second. She picked up a knife and stabbed it into the twenty-five-pound golden brown turkey in front of her. After quickly surveying the room, she pulled a hidden bottle of wine out of the dishwasher and took a hefty swig.

The house was teeming with an eclectic mix of people. Against her better judgment, she had decided to celebrate making it through the worst year of her life by inviting all of her and Luke’s families from both sides. Her Thanksgiving binder and food preparation timing spreadsheet lay abandoned on the breakfast nook, covered in flour and breadcrumbs. She had dismissed him from the kitchen half an hour before to corral his relatives.

Luke walked in now, wearing his tool belt and carrying a hammer. Rosie sprinted in after him, looking jaunty in her turkey-themed bandana.

“Everything smells amazing,” he said.

Claire pouted. “Your green beans look way better than anything I made.”

Luke wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. She relaxed a millimeter.

“Just so you know, your mom is offering tarot readings in the ballroom right now.” The warmth of his breath on her neck nearly distracted her from the gravity of his words.

She swore. “Please tell me she’s reading George’s cards and predicting an untimely demise?”

Since arriving an hour ago, Luke’s brother had loudly berated everything from Luke’s home décor to Rosie’s bandana.

“He’s probably about to plummet face-first into an Olympic pool full of cash.”

“Oh, hi, George,” Claire said as he opened the front door and walked into the foyer. Speak of the devil. “What were you doing outside?”

He slapped a legal pad on the kitchen island with zero regard for Claire’s ever-shrinking counter space. “Listen, Luke. We’ve gotta talk about your pool. In the lawyer community, we call that an ‘attractive nuisance.’ All you need is one neighbor kid hopping over that fence and drowning and you’re screwed. That fence has to be at least six inches taller, and you need a couple of signs.”

“I just remembered there’s a piece of molding in the ballroom that was never fully secured to the wall. I wouldn’t want Sophia to get hurt,” Luke said, walking straight back down the hallway. George’s five-year-old daughter, Sophia, had seemingly inherited nothing from her father. She was sweet and well-mannered and loved to help her mother, Stella, bake. George trailed after Luke, still talking about the pool. He was so not invited to Christmas Eve.

Damn it. The turkey was still whole, and everything else was done. With every second that ticked by, the side dishes were cooling down. At this rate, she’d give everyone food poisoning.

She had half a mind to storm into the basement and pull her stepdad off his ladder. She had witnessed him carve the turkey at Thanksgiving last year. He wasn’t a big fan of tense family gatherings and had excused himself to install dimmer bulbs in Luke’s theater room while Claire’s nephew, Ryan, played video games. When she had last checked on them, Claire’s sister, Charlotte, was assisting, holding a flashlight in one hand and a very large wineglass in the other. She was less than thrilled about the prospect of sharing the same roof as Jack.

The doorbell rang. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it,” Claire said to no one.

Rachel, Luke’s mother and Barney’s attorney, stood at the door. Her posture was so erect that it looked like she had had a pole surgically attached to her spine. Claire let out a long, slow breath. They hadn’t seen each other since Claire’s visit to the prison. If she was going to kill anyone at this family function, it was going to be Rachel. But Luke had requested they try to make amends. She was the only parent he had left.

“Hello, Claire.” At least she had gotten her name right today.

“Please come in.” Claire briefly considered sprinting out the front door before closing it behind them.

“Where should I put the salad?” Rachel brandished an expensive-looking wooden bowl.

“There’s a couple of banquet tables set up in the ballroom,” Claire said, returning to the turkey and gesturing with the carving knife. “Thank you for coming. George and Stella are in the ballroom with Luke. Sophia was looking for you earlier,” she added. Even though she desperately needed help carving this turkey, she would rather shut her head in the oven than ask Rachel.

“She’s a dear little thing.” Rachel moved past Claire to set two bottles of wine on the counter. She didn’t make eye contact and instead spoke to the refrigerator. “You should know I am no longer representing Mr. Windsor. I recused myself. He admitted he only hired me because Luke is my son, and he knew it would drive you crazy.”

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