Page 7 of Merry Little Midlife Matchmaker

I even had an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner at Aaron’s house. I followed Grant’s truck onto a winding road lined with huge houses, and I smiled at the run-in I’d had the day before with Aaron’s younger sister. She hadn’t changed either. Well, not as much as I felt like I had. She didn’t look like life had chewed her up and spit her out the way it seemed to have done with me. Even when I startled her, she’d smiled through it. Being next to her had always felt like standing in a ray of sunshine. She attacked life like she could smile it into submission. It was completely foreign to me—had been when I was a kid, too—but I’d always liked being around her. She still had those cute red-apple cheeks and those dark, dark eyes. Still clumsy as all hell, too.

I shook my head. I’d hesitated about coming back here. I wasn’t sure if I could ever be at home in this town with what had happened here growing up. But it was as good a place as any to try to start fresh, and Mikey had seemed cautiously optimisticabout the school when we’d gone there together this morning. The robotics club had impressed him; his eyes had gotten that interested gleam I hadn’t seen in a while.

Maybe I could take a leaf out of Lizzie’s book and believe that everything would turn out okay. The thought made me slightly uncomfortable, so I decided to believe that things would turn out, if not okay, then at least not disastrous. And if disaster was in my future, I’d deal with that, too. Always did.

Familiar bitterness swept through me at the thought, and I forced it down. This was a fresh start. Stability for Mikey. Everything I needed to take care of my kid.

Grant’s blinker came on as he slowed his truck, and then he turned into a long driveway leading to a beautiful home. I followed him, took a deep breath, and pushed all thoughts of old friends and dark eyes out of my mind.

What mattered now was making a good impression, getting this job, and making sure my son settled in as well as he could. Everything else was secondary, including how it felt to be driving these roads again and the effort it took to keep old memories at bay.

FOUR

LIZZIE

Holidays had always beenchaotic in my family, and Thanksgiving was no exception. My elder brother Aaron and his wife Emily were hosting this year, but I’d been asked to make the turkey and two sides. I’d done my best to prep what I could during the week, but with Zach recovering from his illness, Hazel being cast in the school Christmas play, and my own work schedule, I was behind.

Thankfully, the kids were in a great mood. Hazel smiled at me as she pranced out of her room, giving me a twirl of her rust-red dress.

“Beautiful,” I told her, leaning down to kiss her head.

“It floofs!” She twirled again, giggling at the way the skirt flew up and danced around her.

“Your aunt Emily chose well,” I said, then turned to the hallway. “Zach! Are you almost ready?”

A muffled, “Yeah,” was the only response I got, so I hurried to the kitchen to check on my stuffing prep. I’d perfected my stuffing recipe over the years, which had been passed down from my maternal grandmother, and it was one of my favorite things about Thanksgiving. Pork, turkey gizzards, sage, and apple came together with breadcrumbs and the bird’s juices (and lots ofbutter) to create pure magic. There were never any leftovers. I couldn’t wait to have some—but I needed to make it first.

While the stuffing got going, I worked on peeling potatoes. The turkey had been dry-brined overnight and was ready to start cooking. Oven space was limited at Aaron’s house, so I had to be efficient.

I checked the time. Tight, but it should be okay as long as I could head over to Aaron’s within the next half hour.

After cooking like my life depended on it, I checked on the kids. Hazel had her shoes on and a bow in her hair, and she was keeping herself busy with a princess coloring book in the living room. Zach was watching football on our TV while he held a ball.

“Zach, get dressed. We’re leaving soon.”

He looked down at himself, then dragged himself to his feet and shuffled to his bedroom. I decided to take my own advice. I jumped in the shower and scrubbed myself down in a record two minutes, slapped on some concealer, mascara, and lipstick, then pointed a blow dryer at my head for a few minutes. The children started bickering, so I sighed and wrapped my still-damp hair in a claw clip. It would have to do.

I would’ve loved to doll myself up, but another glance at the clock told me that I needed to get the food and the kids in the car so I could head to my brother’s place and make sure everyone ate at a reasonable time. I threw on a wine-colored wrap sweater and the only pair of jeans that still fit and called it a day. I’d be running around all day, anyway, probably with all kinds of cooking splatter all over me, so there was no point in being too precious about it.

Ten minutes later, the car was loaded, the food was secure, and the kids had decided to make peace. I pulled up to my brother’s house only fifteen minutes behind my self-imposed schedule and let myself inside. The house smelled like warm spices and vanilla, and the sound of conversation mingled withsportsball announcers talking about sportsball things on the television.

“Hello, hello!” I called out, and heaved the turkey in the direction of the kitchen.

I found Emily there, dumping chips into a bowl. My sister-in-law gave me a hug and waved at the oven. “Have at it. Do your thing!”

I smiled. “Of course. How’re Jacob and Levi?”

“Jacob’s excited for the game,” she said. “Levi’s Levi.”

“Playing LEGO in his room?”

She gave me a side smile. “If you have a minute and you feel like coaxing him down to be with everyone, I’d appreciate it. You do seem to have a special way with him.”

“Sure,” I said, turning the knobs on the oven to start preheating it. I checked my watch for the thousandth time and allowed myself one deep breath, then headed back out to the car.

The potatoes and extra casserole dish of stuffing had been secured in the footwell of the passenger seat, so I was once again face down, ass up when Sean Hardy pulled up behind me. I heard a door open, and expecting my middle brother Kyle, I spun around and thrust the gigantic pot of peeled potatoes at the body exiting the vehicle.

Sean blinked but, to his credit, grabbed the pot. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he said.

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