Chương 3 - The Empty Table Drama
Across town, at 1424 Whispering Pines Court, things were not going fine.
Later that evening, I would hear the full, unvarnished story from Karen’s younger sister, Chloe, who had always secretly despised her parents' pretensions and Karen's desperate social climbing.
When Richard and Eleanor Vance stepped through our leaded-glass front door at 12:05 PM, they had arrived with the grandiosity of British royalty touring a provincial outpost. Richard, wrapped in an overcoat of charcoal cashmere, handed his leather gloves to Karen like she was a coat-check attendant. Eleanor, heavily powdered and smelling suffocatingly of French perfume, marched directly toward the dining room, admiring her own reflection in the foyer mirror.
"Karen, darling," Eleanor had proclaimed, adjusting her silk scarf. "The drive was simply dreadful on the interstate. Semi-trucks everywhere. I told Richard we should have taken the train, but he insisted on the Mercedes. Where is Rick? And where is the bird? I must say, the house smells lovely, but the kitchen seems awfully dark."
Karen had stood in the foyer, her face paper-white, her fingers clutching her iPhone until her knuckles turned ivory.
"Rick... Rick had an emergency," Karen stammered.
Richard scoffed, unbuttoning his tailored suit jacket to reveal his gold pocket watch. "An emergency? On Thanksgiving Day? What sort of emergency does a high school vice-principal have on a national holiday? Did a student forget their homework?"
"No," Karen mumbled, sweating through her emerald sweater. "He... he had to run an errand."
"An errand?" Eleanor swept into the dining room. She stopped dead in her tracks.
The table was set with pristine perfection. The crystal glasses caught the light of the chandelier. The sterling silver flatware was arranged precisely according to Emily Post. But every serving dish, every platter, and every bowl was completely, utterly empty.
There was no turkey. There were no potatoes. There was only a hollow, silver warming tray sitting cold in the center of the mahogany table.
"Karen," Eleanor said, her voice dropping into the terrifying, icy register that Karen had spent her entire adult life trying to avoid. "Where is the feast?"
"Eleanor, please, just give him a few minutes," Karen pleaded, her voice trembling. "He took the food to keep it warm... in a warming container down at the church... to bless it!"
"To bless it?" Richard barked, looking at his daughter as if she had lost her mind. "Are you telling me my son-in-law stole our Thanksgiving dinner to have it blessed by a priest? Are we in the dark ages?"
At that exact moment, Chloe and her fiancé, Brad, walked in through the front door, shivering from the cold wind outside.
"Hey, everyone," Chloe called out cheerfully. "Happy Thanksgiving! Hey, why did I just pass Rick in his Ford F-150 at the light on Maple Street? He looked like a man on a mission, and I swear I saw giant aluminum catering pans stacked in his back seat."
The dining room went completely tomb-like.
Karen turned toward Chloe with murder in her eyes. "Chloe, shut up."
"What?" Chloe blinked, holding up her hands. "I'm just saying! I saw him. He was heading south toward his dad's house."
Richard's eyes narrowed. He looked at Karen with the sharp, predatory instincts of a corporate lawyer who had just spotted an obvious lie on the witness stand.
"Karen," Richard said, stepping toward her. "Why did your husband drive across town with twenty pounds of roasted poultry on a day he knew we were coming?"
Karen crumbled. Under the suffocating glare of her mother and the demanding authority of her father, her carefully constructed narrative splintered into pieces.
"Because Rick threw a tantrum!" Karen wailed, tears of humiliation finally bursting through her makeup. "He threw a childish, ridiculous tantrum because I didn't want his father coming over! I did it for you! Jack is gross! He smells like a repair shop! He talks about spark plugs! I told Jack the table was full so you two wouldn't have to endure him, and Rick stole the dinner out of spite!"
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then Chloe let out a loud, incredulous snort. "Wait. You uninvited Jack? Old Jack? The guy who drove two hours in a blizzard to pull my Honda out of a ditch three years ago when AAA wouldn't even answer the phone?"
"Shut up, Chloe!" Karen shrieked.
"No, Karen, you shut up," Chloe said, crossing her arms in disgust. "Jack Dalton is ten times the gentleman you'll ever be. And Rick cooked that entire dinner by himself. I know, because you haven't turned on an oven since 2018. If you treated his dad like dirt, you deserve to starve."
Eleanor gashed her hand onto the table, rattling the crystal. "Silence, both of you! This is disgraceful! I will not be insulted in my own daughter's home! Richard, we are leaving. We will find a steakhouse downtown."
"Mom, please! Everything is closed on Thanksgiving!" Karen wept, falling to her knees by the sofa. "Rick will bring it back! I’m calling him right now!"
Richard pulled out his phone, checked the time, and looked down at Karen with cold disdain. "You couldn't manage your husband, Karen. You couldn't even keep food on your own table. You invited us here to be humiliated."
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"Call him," Eleanor commanded, her voice vibrating with fury. "Put him on speakerphone right now, Karen. I will tell that ungrateful boy exactly what he has done to this family."
***
