Part 2
“You want an answer? Fine. She hates me.”
Harper’s words carried into the living room before Liam could stop her.
Chelsea remained beside the island.
“Harper,” Liam said.
“No. Everyone’s already uncomfortable. Let’s stop pretending.”
Harper turned toward her relatives.
“Chelsea has never wanted me here.”
“That isn’t true,” Chelsea said.
Harper laughed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then explain tonight.”
Chelsea glanced toward the living room.
Nobody looked comfortable enough to leave.
Harper’s father studied his shoes.
Diane stared at the dark television.
Chelsea kept her voice even.
“I explained it.”
“No, you punished us.”
“I didn’t.”
“You knew what would happen.”
Chelsea didn’t answer.
Harper stepped closer.
“You knew my family would arrive hungry.”
“You invited them.”
“And you let them come anyway.”
Liam finally moved.
“Harper, stop.”
She turned on him.
“Did your mother call my parents?”
Liam hesitated.
“No.”
“Did she call my aunt?”
“No.”
“Did she tell anyone there wouldn’t be dinner?”
Chelsea looked at him.
Liam’s mouth tightened.
“No.”
Harper nodded slowly.
“There.”
Chelsea felt fourteen pairs of eyes settle on her.
“I spoke to the people responsible for the invitation.”
“You mean us.”
“Yes.”
“And then you sat back and let everyone else walk into this.”
Chelsea’s fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.
Harper’s mother cleared her throat.
“She does have a point.”
Harper looked almost surprised.
Chelsea was more surprised.
Mrs. Bennett stepped into the kitchen.
“If you knew there was a misunderstanding, Chelsea, a phone call might have saved everyone the drive.”
Chelsea absorbed that quietly.
“It wasn’t a misunderstanding.”
Mrs. Bennett’s expression cooled.
“Whatever you want to call it.”
Chelsea looked toward Liam.
He said nothing.
Her chest tightened.
“Maybe we should all go,” Harper’s father said.
“No.”
Harper reached for her phone.
“I’m fixing this.”
She tapped the screen several times.
“What are you doing?” Liam asked.
“Ordering dinner.”
“For fourteen people?”
“Fifteen.”
Harper looked directly at Chelsea.
“You’re eating with us.”
Chelsea shook her head.
“I’ve eaten.”
“Then sit there and watch.”
“Harper.”
“What?”
Liam lowered his voice.
“Whose card are you using?”
Harper stopped tapping.
Chelsea saw the answer before anyone spoke.
Harper looked toward her.
“I need your card.”
Chelsea stared at her.
“You invited fourteen people, blamed me for not feeding them, and now you want me to pay?”
Harper held out her hand.
“It’s the least you can do.”
Chelsea looked at the waiting palm.
Then at her son.
Liam whispered, “Mom, please.”
Chelsea’s hand slowly dropped from the counter.
“I’ll pay you back Friday.”
Liam stood beside Chelsea while Harper spoke to the restaurant.
Chelsea held her credit card between two fingers.
“You said that last month.”
“I know.”
“And the month before.”
“I know.”
Harper covered the phone.
“They need the card number.”
Chelsea looked at Liam.
He wouldn’t hold her gaze.
“How much?”
Harper uncovered the phone.
“One second.”
She walked toward the dining room.
Chelsea lowered her voice.
“How much, Liam?”
“I don’t know.”
“You asked me to pay.”
“I asked you to help.”
“No. You asked me to surrender.”
His face tightened.
“Why does everything have to become a statement?”
Chelsea almost answered.
Instead, she handed him the card.
He stared at it.
For one moment, he looked ashamed.
“Thank you.”
Chelsea turned away.
Behind her, Harper called out.
“Liam, I need it.”
He carried the card to his wife.
Chelsea remained at the sink.
She listened as Harper read the numbers.
“Add the second tray,” Harper said.
Chelsea looked over.
“What second tray?”
Harper raised one finger without facing her.
“And two desserts.”
“Harper.”
She kept talking.
“Yes, chocolate and cheesecake.”
Chelsea’s jaw tightened.
Harper ended the call.
“Done.”
“How much?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
Harper sighed.
“Four hundred and eighty-six.”
Chelsea stared at her.
“With tip?”
Harper paused.
“Before tip.”
Liam looked sick.
Chelsea held out her hand.
“My card.”
Harper gave it to her.
“Happy?”
Chelsea slipped it into her wallet.
“No.”
The doorbell rang.
Everyone looked toward the foyer.
“That was fast,” Matt said.
“It can’t be the food,” Liam replied.
Harper frowned.
“I didn’t invite anyone else.”
Chelsea walked toward the door.
“I’ll get it.”
When she opened it, a woman stood on the porch holding a small overnight bag.
“Chelsea?”
Chelsea froze.
“Rachel?”
David’s younger sister gave her a tired smile.
“Surprise.”
Chelsea stared at the bag.
Rachel’s smile disappeared.
“I thought Liam told you I was coming.”
Chelsea turned slowly.
Liam had gone completely still.
“Liam?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“I forgot.”
Rachel looked past Chelsea at the crowded house.
“I can get a hotel.”
“No.”
Chelsea stepped aside.
“You’re family.”
Rachel entered and hugged her.
Chelsea closed her eyes for half a second.
It was the first kindness she had received all evening.
Then Harper spoke from the kitchen.
“Where exactly is she supposed to sleep?”
Chelsea opened her eyes.
“She can have the guest room.”
Harper stared at Chelsea as if the answer were absurd.
“No, she can’t.”
Rachel set her bag beside the stairs.
Chelsea turned.
“Why not?”
Harper crossed her arms.
“My sister’s using it.”
“Your sister doesn’t live here.”
“She’s staying tonight.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t realize I needed permission for my sister to sleep over.”
Chelsea’s expression hardened.
Rachel reached for her bag.
“I really can get a hotel.”
“No,” Chelsea said.
Harper sighed.
“Chelsea, there’s nowhere to put her.”
“There are four bedrooms.”
“Our room, your room, the guest room, and the office.”
Chelsea stared at her.
“The office?”
“The small bedroom.”
“That isn’t an office.”
“It is now.”
Chelsea’s voice dropped.
“What did you do?”
Harper hesitated.
Only briefly.
“I moved some things.”
Chelsea walked past her.
“Mom,” Liam said.
She kept going.
The hallway seemed longer than usual.
Chelsea reached the small bedroom and opened the door.
David’s leather chair was gone.
So was the narrow bookcase.
His framed Navy photograph no longer sat on top.
A desk stood beneath the window.
Harper’s laptop occupied the center.
Two cardboard boxes had been pushed against the wall.
Chelsea stepped inside.
She recognized David’s handwriting on one.
TAXES.
The other was labeled DAVID — PERSONAL.
Chelsea crouched.
The tape had been cut.
Her hand stopped above the cardboard.
“Who opened this?”
Nobody answered.
Chelsea turned.
Harper stood in the doorway with Liam behind her.
“I asked who opened it.”
Harper lifted her chin.
“I needed to see what was inside.”
Chelsea slowly stood.
“That was my husband’s.”
“It was a box.”
“It was sealed.”
“And taking up space.”
Rachel appeared behind Liam.
Her face changed when she saw the label.
“Oh, Chelsea.”
Harper shifted.
“I didn’t throw anything away.”
Chelsea looked at her.
“Where’s his chair?”
“The basement.”
Chelsea closed her eyes.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
She could picture David there without trying.
Bare feet on the ottoman.
Baseball murmuring from the television.
His hand reaching for hers during the final months.
Chelsea opened her eyes.
“I asked you not to move my belongings.”
Harper’s expression hardened.
“And I’m telling you we need space.”
Chelsea looked at Liam.
He stared past her.
“Did you know?”
His silence answered first.
Then he nodded.
Chelsea lowered her gaze.
Rachel stepped into the room.
“I’ll put everything back with you.”
“No.”
Chelsea’s voice was quiet.
Rachel stopped.
Chelsea bent and pressed the cardboard flaps closed.
Her hands shook.
Harper saw it.
“So where is everyone supposed to sleep?”
Chelsea kept folding the box.
Rachel turned sharply.
“Are you serious?”
“Rachel,” Chelsea said.
Rachel looked at her.
Chelsea shook her head once.
She would not fight.
Not here.
Not yet.
Chelsea stood with effort.
“Rachel can sleep in my room.”
Rachel frowned.
“Then where will you sleep?”
“The couch.”
“No.”
“It’s one night.”
“This is your house.”
Chelsea looked toward Liam.
He finally met her eyes.
She waited for him to say it too.
He didn’t.
Chelsea picked up Rachel’s bag.
“Come on.”
Harper stepped aside.
Chelsea walked past her carrying the bag.
“You can’t keep acting like we’re guests.”
Harper followed Chelsea downstairs.
Chelsea placed a pillow on the living room couch.
“I’m not discussing this.”
“You never discuss anything.”
Liam lingered near the stairs.
Rachel had gone upstairs after refusing Chelsea’s bed twice.
Chelsea unfolded a blanket.
Harper stood over her.
“We live here.”
“Temporarily.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Is it?”
Chelsea stopped.
Harper lowered her voice.
“Liam grew up here.”
Chelsea looked at her.
“That doesn’t make it his.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Harper glanced toward Liam.
He looked away.
Chelsea returned to the blanket.
The doorbell rang again.
This time, the food had arrived.
Harper’s family came alive immediately.
Chairs scraped.
Someone laughed.
The tension loosened for everyone except Chelsea.
Harper directed the delivery workers toward the dining room.
“Put everything on our table.”
Chelsea’s hands stopped.
Our table.
Harper didn’t notice.
Or pretended not to.
Within minutes, containers covered the surface.
Harper opened wine.
Her father found plates.
Mrs. Bennett began serving.
Nobody asked Chelsea where anything belonged.
She stood beside the couch while her house rearranged itself around her.
Then Harper raised her glass.
“To family.”
Several people echoed her.
Liam didn’t.
Chelsea remained standing.
Harper looked over.
“Are you going to sit?”
“I’m tired.”
Harper gave a small shrug.
“Suit yourself.”
Chelsea started toward the stairs.
“Mom.”
She stopped.
Liam approached her.
“Thank you for dinner.”
Chelsea stared at him.
He realized too late how it sounded.
“I mean paying for it.”
She said nothing.
“I’ll give you the money.”
“When?”
“Friday.”
Chelsea nodded once.
Liam lowered his voice.
“I’m sorry about Dad’s things.”
Chelsea’s face changed.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you stop her?”
He glanced toward Harper.
Chelsea followed his eyes.
Harper was laughing with her mother.
Liam whispered, “It’s complicated.”
Chelsea looked back at him.
“No. It isn’t.”
He flinched.
For the first time that evening, Chelsea’s voice almost broke.
“You just wish it were.”
She turned toward the stairs.
Behind her, Harper called Liam’s name.
He went to his wife.
Chelsea climbed alone.
At the top, she paused outside her bedroom.
Rachel had left the door cracked open.
Chelsea could hear her quietly crying inside.
Chelsea didn’t enter.
She returned downstairs instead.
No one noticed her cross the hallway.
She opened the basement door.
The steps were dark.
Chelsea switched on the light and descended.
David’s chair sat in the far corner beneath an old sheet.
She pulled the sheet away.
Dust lifted into the air.
Chelsea ran her fingers across the worn leather.
Something pale showed beneath the cushion.
She reached down and pulled it free.
It was the Thanksgiving menu Harper had handed her weeks earlier.
Chelsea’s name appeared beside almost every dish.
Harper’s name appeared beside two words.
Table. Drinks.
Chelsea stared at the page.
Upstairs, laughter traveled through the floorboards.
She sat in David’s chair.
The leather gave beneath her weight.
For the first time that night, Chelsea covered her face with both hands.
She stayed there while strangers ate upstairs in the house she had spent thirty-two years building.
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