Page 42 of Along Comes Trouble

TESSA

T hanksgivingDay arrives and I try on every single piece of clothing I own before settling on a very Sarah-like outfit of jeans, ankle boots, and a sweater. When I look in the mirror, I like what I see, but what she said at the coffee shop echoes back to me. Is this outfit a sign of me changing who I am to fit in with Colton? Or, is it proof I’m still growing as a human being and am willing to take risks with my style ?

I change again, this time into a much more conservative outfit. Black slacks, white button down, pearls. I still look nice, though perhaps a little formal. I lift my hair off my neck and try on a few hairstyles. Better with the hair up or down? How formal is a Carmichael Thanksgiving ?

“Come on, Tess. You’re overthinking,” I say to my reflection and then pluck the sweater off my bed and hold it in front of my body. In the end, I settle on a combination of the two outfits, wearing the jeans, the sweater, the flats, and my pearls. With my hair in a simple ponytail, the effect is relaxed, yet put together. Or so I hope. I distract myself on the drive out to the farm by first calling Ellie to wish her a happy Thanksgiving, then calling Faye. Both women are busy getting ready for their own meals, but they wish me luck and Faye makes me promise to be myself .

“I’m starting to wonder if I even know who I am anymore,” I say .

Faye sighs into the phone. “That sounds like a giant topic to unpack, and I swear we can spend an entire day doing that, just not today .”

“I know, I know. You’ve got family to deal with.” Gray skies stretch out in front of me as barren trees stream by on either side of the road. The landscape is beautiful, in a dreary sort of way .

“The best advice I can give you is to stop thinking and just be . I get it. Sarah got in your head. But new clothes don’t turn you into a whole new person. Take a breath. Relax. Have fun. If you’re forcing yourself to be someone you’re not, you’ll know. The human psyche isn’t as elastic as people would like us to think .”

I sigh. “You tell me to stop thinking so much like that’s something I have control over .”

“It is very much something you have control over. Try it. Just for today. Spend this time with Colton and his family feeling your way through things. You’ll find the answers you need.” There’s a commotion on Faye’s end of the line. “Look babe, I’m sorry. I have to go. Things are crazy here .”

“Go. Love your family. Thanks for keeping me company on the drive out here .”

We say our goodbyes and hang up just as I pull into the driveway at Carmichael Farms and park behind a line of trucks, vans, and cars. Colton told me not to worry about bringing anything, but I couldn’t fathom showing up to someone’s house empty handed, so I made a batch of brownies. For one, who doesn’t like brownies, and for another, they’re not a very Thanksgiving-ish treat, so the chances of duplicating someone else’s tradition is slim .

I step out of the car into a bleak day. Wind slices through my sweater and raises goosebumps along my skin. Somewhere, my parents are sitting on the deck of a cruise ship, sipping Mai Tais while wearing sunglasses and bathing suits. I send them a silent I love you and then climb the steps to the porch. The door swings open just as I raise a hand to knock, and there’s Colton, looking handsome in a cable knit sweater that matches his eyes .

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he says, smiling .

“Hey, yourself .”

“Is that her?” a female voice calls from inside the house. “Colton Carmichael. Where are your manners?” A wonderfully round woman with a friendly smile waddles into the doorway. “Invite her in and introduce us .”

Colton widens his eyes in exasperation, but pushes open the screen door without so much as a complaint. “Tessa Morgan,” he says as I step inside. “This is my mother, Annabelle Carmichael .”

“Please. None of that Mrs. Carmichael stuff. Call me Annabelle.” Colton’s mother takes one look at the plate of brownies in my hand and tsk s. “I told Colton to tell you not to bring anything,” she says, even though her face tells me I’ve scored major points by not taking her at her word .

“He did. I just couldn’t bring myself to show up to someone’s house empty handed .”

“Beautiful and mannered? She’s a keeper, Colton. A real keeper.” Annabelle takes the plate of brownies from my hands and ushers me inside. “I think you know just about everyone here already, don’t you ?”

“I think I’ve met everyone once or twice while I was out with Sarah .”

Annabelle pauses just outside the crowded living room. “I forgot you’re friends with our girl. There isn’t a chance she’s coming today, is there ?”

There’s so much hope in her face, I hate that I don’t have the answer she wants. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Carmichael. I don’t think Sarah’s coming .”

Annabelle’s face falls, but she quickly forces a smile back into place. “I knew she wouldn’t be here, but that doesn’t stop me from getting my hopes up year after year. And please. Call me Annabelle .”

Claire careens around a corner and wraps herself around my legs. “Ms. Morgan!” she cries, as if we didn’t just see each other two days ago. A little boy I recognize from Faye’s class stops short of running into me as a toddler who must be Claire’s brother Thomas brings up the rear, reaching for Colton to pick him up .

“Hey there, Claire. How are you?” I ask, and then listen as she tells me every last detail about the game she was playing with Gabe, the little boy from Faye’s class. Annabelle introduces me to her husband, Dean, while Colton takes the kids outside to gather logs and sticks for a fire .

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, as he heads out the door, surrounded by children. Gabe dangles from his arm and Claire clings to his leg, while little Thomas laughs and laughs .

“Take your time .”

I perch on the edge of a chair near the fireplace and listen happily as the family and friends talk and tease. It’s not long before I feel right at home with these people and by the time Colton and the kids make their way back into the crowded house, I’ve already decided that yes, big family get togethers officially belong on my list of life goals .

Colton makes a show of letting the kids help him light the fire and then congratulates them all, offering high fives and big praise when the little spark of flame takes hold and climbs along the kindling. After the kids disperse, Colton offers me his hand and helps me to my feet before sitting in my chair and pulling me back into his lap. “I like having you here,” he says, his voice low and quiet .

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