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Sean would still be enjoying a cozy dinner for two. Just not with her. She grabbed another tissue.
It only took her half an hour to go through every tissue in the box. She needed something sturdier. Paper towels.
There on the kitchen counter, next to the paper towel dispenser, sat the pumpkin pies. She wished she hadn’t offered to bring them. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. She loved to bake, and Mom had her hands full with the rest of dinner. She’d been excited to show off her culinary artwork to the rest of the family, imagined the oohs and aahs as everyone savored each pumpkiny bite.
No way did she want to go to the family dinner now, not when life as she knew it had come to an end. She put the pies in the fridge and called her sister.
“Hey, there,” Jo answered. “Gobble, gobble.”
Gobble, gobble. Happy Thanksgiving. “I can’t go to Mom and Dad’s,” Riley wailed.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“You have to come get the pies.”
“What do you mean? Are you sick?”
“It’s Sean. He...he...”
“He’s sick.”
“No.”
“He’s dead!”
“Nooo.”
“Then what? Oh, no. He broke up with you,” Jo guessed, quickly arriving at the correct conclusion. There was only one thing as bad as Sean dying, and he had done it.
“Y-yes,” Riley sobbed.
“What’s his problem?”
“Emily.”
“Emily?”
“They’re...they’re...” Riley couldn’t finish the sentence.
“That be-atch,” Jo growled. “That sneaky little fake friend. I’ll be right over.”
The pie problem solved, Riley took the roll of paper towels and returned to the couch. Maybe she’d see if Jo could bring home some leftovers for her...in case she ever wanted to eat again. She hated to miss Thanksgiving dinner but the thought of facing everyone was more than she could bear. She’d be a real dinner buzzkill, sitting there like the world’s biggest loser, crying into her candied yams.
Ten minutes later Jo was at the door. And not only Jo but Mom and Grammy, too, neither of whom would leave the kitchen on Thanksgiving Day unless the world was coming to an end. Oh, no. This was so humiliating.
Until they rushed her and gave her a group hug, everyone standing in the entryway like a giant amoeba.
The amoeba slowly moved to the living room, Grammy and Mom flanking Riley on the couch, and Jo and her giant tummy settling in a nearby chair.
“That boy,” Grammy said in disgust. “I never liked him. He was selfish.” This was because at Thanksgiving the year before, Sean had eaten the last piece of huckleberry pie, which Grammy had planned on taking home and having for breakfast the next morning. It hadn’t mattered that he’d been unaware of her plans for that piece of pie. As far as she was concerned, he still shouldn’t have eaten it.
More evidence of how unworthy Sean was began to come out. “Remember how cheap he was on Valentine’s Day?” Jo reminded Riley. “A bag of M&Ms instead of a box of chocolates.”
“But I like M&Ms,” Riley said.
“It was still cheap. And he didn’t even take you to a nice restaurant. Bubba’s Bar-B-Q? Really?”
“You’re well rid of him,” Mom agreed. “Heaven knows who else he’s cheated with this past year.”
“Now, there’s something to be thankful for,” said Grammy.
“That he cheated on me?”
“That you discovered what a weaselly cheater he is before you got married.”
“He had to wait till three weeks before the wedding to do it?” The humiliation, the disappointment. Oh, the wrongness of it all.
“That is a little inconvenient,” Mom conceded. “But nothing we can’t handle. We’ll start calling the guests tonight.”
“I’ll text all the cousins,” Jo offered.
“See? It’s going to be fine,” Mom assured Riley.
“And look on the bright side,” Jo added. “Now you don’t have to work out at the gym.”
No. Emily would be doing that, right alongside Sean. Riley sniffed.
“One less Christmas present to buy,” Grammy said with a nod that made her glasses bob on her nose.
Christmas. Riley had been envisioning their first Christmas as a married couple—getting up in the morning and drinking hot chocolate, opening their presents. She’d already bought Sean’s, a tool set she’d found online with everything from wrenches to Phillips screwdrivers. Well, she needed a tool set. And she could still drink hot chocolate.
All by herself. She burst into fresh tears.
“We’re not going to let this ruin our Thanksgiving,” Mom said firmly.
Was she kidding? “I’m not coming,” Riley said.
“Not coming!” Mom and Grammy chorused.
“I can’t.” How could they expect her to face everyone after what had just happened?
“Now, baby,” Grammy said, putting an arm around Riley’s shoulders, “When you take a fall you have to climb back on the horse.”
“I didn’t fall,” Riley protested. “I was dumped.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “Your grandmother’s right. You don’t want to be alone at a time like this. You need your family. And besides, if you sit here and mope, think of the power you’re giving him.”
“I’m not giving him any power. I’m just... Guys, can’t you let me mourn?”
“Absolutely not,” Mom insisted. “Now, go shower and dress. We’ll wait.”
Once Mom and Grammy made up their minds, arguing did about as much good as trying to stick to a diet in a bakery. Riley trudged off to the shower.
As she went, Grammy started singing some old song about washing that man right out of her hair. Funny.
After Riley was cleaned up, Mom and Grammy loaded her and the pies in Mom’s car and hauled her back to the house while Jo went home to put the finishing touches on her cranberry salad.
“How’s my girl?” her father asked, folding her into his big arms.
“Miserable.”
“Don’t be. Forget about that clown. Anyone stupid enough not to want to be with you doesn’t deserve you. I never thought he was good enough for you, anyway.”
And that was the general consensus as the family gathered for their annual Thanksgiving feast.
“Men are beasts,” said Aunt Gertrude, making Uncle Earl frown.
“Good riddance,” said Riley’s brother, Harold. “He’s a tool.”
“That’s bad,” explained his seven-year-old daughter, Caitlyn.
Harold worked out at Sean’s gym a lot. “Did you know he and...” Riley couldn’t bear to mention her false friend’s name. “Did you know what he was doing?”
“Would you pass the stuffing, Aunt Gert?” Harold said, trying to dodge the question.
“Harold, did you?” She knew the answer before he even spoke. Guilt was painting a red flush on his face.
But he shook his head. “Not for sure. There was a lot of flirting going on and I thought that was tacky. You’re well rid of him, sis.”
Maybe she was, but the loss hurt all the same and it was hard to be thankful.
Still, by the end of the day she felt somewhat better. Everyone had complimented her on her pumpkin pies. Her aunt Ellen told her how nice she looked and asked her if she’d lost weight. She’d played Go Fish with Jo, her sister-in-law and her niece and had actually managed to forget her miseries for an hour or two.
Until she got back home to her empty apartment and realized it was going to stay empty for a long time to come. Maybe forever. Oh, there was a comforting thought.
Mom had sent home the last piece of pie with her, along with some stuffing and gravy and turkey. She’d planned to have them for lunch the next day. But, like the saying went, life was uncertain. She decided to eat dessert first. Maybe tomorrow she’d bake pumpkin squares. To heck with never eating again. She was going to eat away her sorrows, turn herself into a blimp. Who cared?
She took one bite of the pie and then tossed it in the garbage. Pumpkin pie was a poor substitute for a fiancé.
She was working up to another good cry when her sister called. “I know you’re feeling sorry for yourself again.”
Sometimes older sisters could be real stinkers. “I’d say I have a right to.”
“Yeah, you do, but I have a better idea than sitting around feeling miserable for the next six months.”
She wasn’t planning on feeling miserable for the next six months. More like the next six years. “What?” Riley asked suspiciously.
“Girlfriend party. Pack a bag. Noel’s on her way to pick you up.”
“You told Noel?”
“Yeah, since she’s your oldest friend and your maid of honor. Thought she’d need to know.”
Yes, of course, Noel had to be told. Still, this felt as if her sad news was spreading faster than gossip on Twitter. In fact, it would probably be on Twitter before the day was over. Maybe it already was. Maybe Sean had tweeted. Happy Thanksgiving. Dumped my girlfriend. Gobble, gobble.
“You wanted to give her the happy news yourself?” Jo retorted.
Good point. She supposed she should be thankful her sister was telling people so she wouldn’t have to.
“Come on, we’ll drink eggnog and play Farkle. Then tomorrow we can hit the Black Friday sales and get you some new clothes, give you a break-over.”
A breakup makeover; that did sound tempting.
“You don’t really want to be by yourself, do you?” Jo continued.
“No,” Riley admitted. She had enough of that being-by-herself stuff looming in the future.
“Older sister knows best,” Jo teased.
“Sometimes.” In this case she probably did. Who better to help Riley recover than her sister and her best friend?
Noel, who had gone through a breakup a few months earlier, understood exactly how she felt. “It sucks,” she said as Riley dropped her overnight bag in the trunk of Noel’s old clunker. “I swear there aren’t any decent men left out there,” she said once they were in her car and on their way. “Jo got the last one. No, I take that back. My sister did. Which is great, of course. I’m happy for Aimi.” Noel sighed heavily.
Great. She was almost as depressed as Riley. Before the night was over they’d probably both wind up stretched out on Pine Street in the middle of downtown, praying to get run over by a reindeer. Except it was too early for Santa and his reindeer to be out cruising.
“I think the male population in Whispering Pines is shrinking.” Noel heaved another sigh. Then she cast a guilty look in Riley’s direction. “But you know what? We’re not going to think about that tonight,” she said with a determined nod.
“Thirty-one, and there’s still no one, not even a glimpse of someone on the horizon,” Noel said a millisecond later.
Jilted brides and empty horizons—oh, yes, this was going to be a fun evening.
Another guilty glance shot Riley’s way. “I’m sorry. Listen to me, going on like Princess Pitiful when you’re the one who’s suffering. I’m sorry, Riley. I’m sorry Sean was such a jerk and Emily was such a rotten friend. But like I said, we’re not going to think about that. Tonight we’re going to have fun.”
Fun.
Noel pointed a finger at nothing in particular. “You know, I never really liked her. Remember when we were at her place and she had that box of chocolates on the counter? She never offered to share. And they were Godiva! What kind of friend doesn’t share her chocolates?”
That had been last month. Had those chocolates come from Sean?
They drove through downtown (which took all of five minutes). Santa’s elves had already been busy because twinkle lights now dangled over Pine Street, and the light posts were decorated with giant candy canes and red ribbons. Everything looked festive and happy. Happy holidays. Bah, humbug.
“But you know what?” Noel continued as they turned the corner onto Jo’s block. “Tonight is all about forgetting your troubles, and we’re not—”
“—going to think about it,” Riley finished with her. She was glad when they reached Jo’s house. Maybe now they really could stop thinking. And talking.
Jo was still looking picture-perfect in her maternity jeans and black sweater, an Italian charm bracelet dangling from her wrist. No matter how tired she got, she always managed to look perfect. The eggnog was ready, spiked for Riley, alcohol-free for Jo and Noel, who wasn’t much of a drinker.
“Eggnog!” Noel cried happily. “That’s enough to make us forget our troubles.”
