The Heir Who Quit Luxury novel · Chapter 13 of 32

Chapter 13: Thanksgiving

The elevator doors started to close on Carter.

Frankie put her boot in them.

They bumped her ankle and slid back open.

Carter looked down at the boot, then up at her.

"Miss Doyle."

"You said every day," Frankie said. "Spend it. We'll be on Eight Mile. Open seven to seven. Bring cash."

Carter laughed.

"You think this is a fair fight?"

"I think you've got a billion dollars and you're scared of a guy with nine hundred and seventy-five."

The smile slipped.

Just a little, at one corner.

Frankie took her boot out of the door.

"Bye, Carter."

The doors shut on his face.

She turned around and picked up the pretzels off the concrete, one at a time, and ate one.

"Five-second rule," she said.

"That was a lot more than five seconds."

"It's a parking garage. Different rules."

I laughed until I had to lean on the tow truck.

Seven weeks later my mother made Thanksgiving dinner for five.

She had never made it for more than two.

She borrowed folding chairs from the church and a turkey roaster from the neighbor, and she sent me to the store twice for butter.

Pop arrived at noon in a tie.

Frankie arrived behind him with a green bean casserole she had actually made.

"Don't look at me like that," she told me. "I can follow a can."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your face said something."

My mother put Frankie to work on the gravy and put me to work on nothing.

"Sit," she said. "Look at the parade. You're in the way."

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