Page 85 of Not Just a Trick Play

Plates loaded with generous portions make their way around. I’m on the verge of digging in when Beatrice reappears, brandishing the rotary grater.

She stops by me first, leaning in with a smirk. As she sprinkles Parmesan onto my plate, she sings softly, “Jake and Amelia, sitting in a tree…”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Really? That’s your best material?”

“After years of talking animals and magic wands, this is peak creativity.” She taps her temple, then straightens and continues her rounds, finally plopping down next to Yvonne.

Conversation flows as people catch each other up with the latest happenings.

Carla and Dave announce their plans for a January camping vacation, prompting Jerry and Rick to propose making it a couples’ trip. That notion doesn’t quite land with Helena and Beatrice.

Meanwhile, Mom outlines the Thanksgiving menu, which morphs into a negotiation with Heidi about delaying her vegan diet until after the holidays, a topic that somehow turns into a table-wide debate.

When there’s a lull in the discussion, I stand. “So, fam. It is with my joy that I share the Nurture NYC gala is officially set for the second Saturday of December. Details should hit your inboxes soon.”

Mom’s sigh is a mix of relief and anticipation. “Finally! I was starting to wonder if we’d been left off the guest list.”

Amelia turns to me. “Wait, you didn’t tell them it had been canceled?”

The “c” word hangs in the air like a bad odor, and Mom’s tone sharpens. “Canceled? Why?”

“Umm… Press issues,” I hedge, dropping into my chair and stabbing at the noodles as if they’ve personally betrayed me.

“Jake…” My mother’s warning is clear.

“But it’s on again,” I say, plastering on a bright smile. “And in other news.” Time to toss in a smoke bomb and disappear to divert from that revelation. “Amelia’s going as my date. Yep, we’re together.”

The table goes quiet, and Amelia’s eyes dart to me, wide and screaming with “what have you done” kind of alarm, before locking on Yvonne, who’s glaring at me. Ah, sibling love.

“I can’t believe you—” she starts, her words a cocktail of incredulity and impending doom.

Before the storm can hit, Amelia jumps in. “I’m sorry.”

Too late. My sister barrels on. “—couldn’t wait until Christmas.” There’s a dramatic pause, the kind that precedes a plot twist in a holiday movie.

Beatrice hoots, and an obnoxious smirk of victory spreads across her face as she holds out her hand. Yvonne yanks a bill from her wallet and slaps it into the waiting palm. Carla lets out an exaggerated “ugh” and smacks her forehead before motioning to Dave, who dutifully hands over a crisp fifty.

Our resident Disney Villain collects it with a flourish, then shifts her gaze expectantly to Heidi and Helena, who quickly follow suit.

Mom, ever the pragmatist, asks, “Bank transfer okay?”

She gets a magnanimous nod in return.

“Fucker,” Yvonne mutters at me, scowling. “Couldn’t you have waited? Times are tough.”

“You knew?” Amelia surveys the assembled betting pool, one by one, before ending on Yvonne.

“Of course, I knew.” Her response is all “Elementary, dear Watson.”

Thank goodness, I was genuinely starting to worry she’d lost her touch.

“And you aren’t mad?” The question is feather-light.

“Not with you.” Yvonne smiles at her before shooting me a side-eye. I smirk and stuff another bite of spaghetti into my mouth.

“So, when did you figure it out?” Amelia asks.

“First day I brought you home. You two were all googly-eyed at each other. By brunch, I was sure you’d done the dirty.” She fixes her frown on me. “So much for not sleeping with my friends.” Her elbow finds a hollow spot between my ribs.

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