She Handed Me a Paper Plate, So I Canceled Her Whole Family novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Paper Plate
At Thanksgiving Esther serves Susannah on a paper plate while everyone else gets bone china, Brodie laughs, and Susannah walks out and finds a trust form under the pie dish that would hand over her voting shares.
Esther met me at her door with a hug, took my coat herself, and pushed a mug of hot cider into my hands because I looked tired.
Ten minutes later she set a paper plate in front of me while eleven other people at her Thanksgiving table got bone china.
The plate was the cheap white kind, with a fluted edge.
"Family sits first," my mother-in-law said. "Staff eats in the kitchen after."
I looked at her.
She smiled and passed the gravy boat to the man on her right.
My husband laughed.
He laughed with his mouth open and his eyes on his drink.
"Mom," he said, "it's a joke, Sukey. Don't make it a thing."
At the far end of the table, my sister-in-law held her phone sideways and kept it pointed at me.
"This is so good," she whispered. "Don't move. The light is perfect."
I had paid for the turkey in front of me, and the china under it.
I had paid for the house all of them were sitting in.
That morning I had landed from Singapore on four hours of sleep.
I had closed the biggest contract in the history of my company, Pathlight, and I had told no one.
In this family my work was Susannah's little app thing.
On the plane I had read a text from my husband, Brodie.
Mom's in a mood, just let her get through dinner. Love you. After pie I need you to sign a quick house form, so boring.
I had read it twice and felt reassured, which was a stupid thing to feel.
Now I watched Esther lift the lid off the sweet potatoes.
She did not let anyone else touch a serving dish.
Every Thanksgiving she cleared the whole table herself, faster than any caterer I had ever hired.
She scraped each plate into the bin and stacked them before the rest of us had finished talking.
Then she ate her own dinner last, standing at the kitchen counter.
I had always thought that was just Esther being Esther.
"Susannah," she said now, in her hostess voice. "Don't sulk. Take your plate to the kitchen, and when we're finished you can eat."
A man I had never met cleared his throat.
A woman beside him looked at her napkin.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I want to make sure I heard you."
"You heard me, dear."
Esther folded her hands.
"You're a guest in this family, and a good one. But you're not of this family. Everybody has a place."
Brodie said, "Sukey, come on."
He reached for my wrist, and I let him take it.
"After pie," he said quietly. "Just sit in the kitchen for ten minutes. Then we'll fix everything. I promise."
That was the second time that day he had promised me something smooth.
I looked down the long table at Kelsey's phone.
The red dot was still glowing.
"Is that live?" I asked.
"Just stories," Kelsey said. "It's only for my close friends. Four thousand of them."
"Keep filming."
I took my wrist back.
I picked up the paper plate with two fingers and held it where the camera could see it.
"Esther, you're right," I said. "I'm not family. Family doesn't get billed for the turkey."
Her smile stayed where it was.
"The house, either," I said. "And the china you're about to eat off, and the card in your purse, and the Lexus in the driveway."
No one at the table moved.
"Sit down, Susannah," Brodie said.
"No."
I set the plate gently on top of the stack of bone china at Esther's elbow.
"You can wash that one yourself."
Somebody coughed.
Kelsey whispered, "Oh my God," and did not lower the phone.
Esther's voice went flat. "Kelsey, stop that."
"It's already up, Mom," Kelsey said. "It's at eleven thousand."
Esther looked at her son.
"Brodie. Handle your wife."
I took my coat off the back of the chair.
Brodie stood up so fast his glass went over.
"You're embarrassing my mother."
"Your mother did that herself, and you laughed."
He had nothing to say to that.
So I stepped out.
I walked through the hall past the framed photos of the Kittredge family, which I had paid to have framed.
On the sideboard by the front door sat the pie dish, still covered in foil.
Under it, a corner of a manila envelope stuck out.
A yellow tab was on the corner, and on the tab, in Esther's handwriting, was my name.
I pulled it out.
I carried it out to my car and shut the door.
The porch light was on, and the curtains in the dining room were still open.
Inside the envelope were nine pages and six little yellow flags marked SIGN HERE.
The title on the first page was Kittredge Family Trust: Assignment of Voting Rights.
The second paragraph listed my shares in Pathlight.
All of them.
On the last page, under the trustee line, someone had already typed the name Esther Kittredge.
The only line left blank was mine.
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