The Seventh Time novel · Chapter 20 of 24

Chapter 20: Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was at Pete's house in Parma, a brick colonial with a plastic turkey on the lawn and a real one in the oven.

For three years I had spent the holiday at the Ashworth table.

I had sat on Broderick's left, passed the rolls, and said nothing interesting for four hours.

This year I sat in a kitchen that smelled of sage and burnt sugar, peeling potatoes next to my brother's wife.

"You're doing it wrong," she said.

"I'm doing it the way Mom did."

"Your mother did it wrong too." She took the peeler out of my hand and gave me a knife. "Do it like that. Away from yourself."

She was a small, brisk woman who ran a dental office, and she had forgiven Pete in nine days, which he didn't deserve.

Their son, six years old, sat on the counter in a paper pilgrim hat and ate raw cranberries.

"Is Uncle Killian coming?" he said.

"No," said my sister-in-law and I, at the same moment.

"Why not?"

"Because he's working it out," I said.

"Is he in trouble?"

"He's in a long line of trouble."

"Is the line short or long?"

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