Madelyn "Lyn" Creeke and her grandmother were the last of their family. At least, that's what Lyn's grandmother always led her to believe.
Lyn had never heard of or seen pictures of Georgina Creeke, a great aunt that had been living a few hours awa...
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Unfortunately, we didn't give the festive crew enough time to recover from my orphaned status. Even Rebecca was incapable of keeping the conversation going in the kitchen. There were a few times that she clearly tried to console me with some hushed conversation. But she'd always pause to look over at the others, eventually deciding it was best to avoid the topic. So instead, she gave me an apologetic smile and stayed ever at my elbow, waiting to help me in any way she could. Tim and Jordan made some small talk about the local high school's recent football game, but Marge continued to keep to herself, other than ordering us out of the way or instructing us to finish up with one dish or another.
The pies were all out of the oven and cooling on their racks by the time everyone gathered up their coats and purses. They admired my handiwork, marveling at the flaky golden crust before wishing me a happy Thanksgiving one last time. Then Jordan escorted them to the door with his own well wishes for a pleasant evening.
Once they were gone, Jordan and I went about moving the various dishes and platters out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Though it wasn't even six in the evening, night had settled in and Jordan turned on the dazzling chandelier light and lit the candles lining the table.
"Is it all right to light those?" I asked as I maneuvered a platter of roasted corn on to the table. "Are they coming soon? We don't want them to burn down."
"They'll probably be here in the next ten minutes," he said with a shrug.
"Oh, okay." I mumbled the words, casting a quick glance towards the kitchen. "If you don't mind, I'm going to pop my dinner into the microwave and get that going. I'd like to get settled into my room before they get here."
For a moment, he said nothing. Instead, he looked at me with a blank expression that slowly shifted into a raised brow and pinched lips. "Wait, you're not staying for dinner?"
"Well, no," I said with an uncomfortable laugh. "Why would I? This isn't meant for me."
"But you're the host..."
"No," I said with a wag of my finger. "If anyone here is the host, it's you." I grabbed the back of a nearby chair, my hands wringing the wood as I bit my lower lip. "I just came along for the ride. Besides, I don't want to encroach upon their evening. It's not like I'm family to them. I'm sure they just want to have a good time with people who they're familiar with."
"Hold on." He walked around the table to stand beside me, and his proximity sent a wave of prickles across my skin. "You aren't just trying to get out of this. You honestly think no one would want you here."
"There isn't a seat for me at this table." I bowed my head, ashamed of the meekness in my voice.
"Of course there is," he said with a pitying laugh that drew my eyes up to his face. There I found a smile curling his lips and a flash of his teeth. I think it was the first time he ever really smiled at me. "You'll be sitting where Georgina always sat. At the head of the table, where she could admire all the fine food we made and the enjoyment it brought to our guests."
