He rang the bell. When nobody answered, he used his key.
Our house was dark except for the light over the stove.
He found the note on the table.
“I read it twice,” he told us. “Then I walked upstairs.”
He checked our bedroom.
The bed was made. The suitcases were gone.
Only then did he accept that we had left.
He called from our kitchen, stood there listening to voicemail, and finally took a photograph of the note to send Melissa.
She called him immediately.
According to Derek, her first question was whether he could get us to come back.
“We were already on a plane,” he told me. “I knew that. I still stood there wondering what to say.”
He went home.
The flowers had been delivered the day before. Two borrowed folding tables were set up beside their dining table. Melissa had arranged candles, place cards, and cream-colored napkins.
There were no turkeys.
Karen hadn’t bought any. She had told them she wasn’t cooking.
Melissa had assumed Derek would talk her around. Derek had assumed that, if his mother refused to make the whole dinner, she would at least turn up with the most important parts.
Neither had placed an order.
They had discussed doing it. They had sent each other links.
Then each had waited for the other to make a decision.
At a little after eight, they called Jenna.
She arrived with Paul and asked where the food was.
Melissa pointed at her phone.
“Your mother-in-law told you she wasn’t doing it,” Jenna said.
“I know what she said.”
Jenna told Karen later that she nearly answered that, then decided there were twenty-three other people who would need something to eat whether Melissa was wrong or not.
She started calling restaurants.
Paul checked which grocery stores were open.
Derek found a holiday meal package online, got as far as the order screen, and discovered it required advance notice.
Another place could seat four at eight that evening.
That did not solve their problem.
They could have canceled. They could have called the guests and asked for help.
Instead, Melissa kept saying they could still pull it together.
Derek went to a grocery store Paul had confirmed was open. He bought the cooked chickens available at the deli, a ham, potatoes that needed only heating, rolls, vegetables, cheese, crackers, and bakery pies.
It cost more than he expected.
It was still less than a last-minute catered meal, if they had been able to find one.
There was enough food.
That matters.
Nobody went hungry because my wife went to Florida.
What disappeared was the elaborate homemade dinner Melissa had promised without arranging for anyone willing to make it.
Jenna and Paul stayed. They heated food, found serving dishes, and cleared space in a kitchen crowded with decorations.
Derek took off his sweater and began carrying chairs.
Melissa tried to make the green bean casserole herself. She scorched the topping while answering the door, scraped it off, and added a fresh layer.
Jenna said it tasted fine.
The first guests arrived at one-thirty.
Greg and Sandra came fifteen minutes later with wine and a small box of chocolates.
Sandra asked whether she could put something in the refrigerator.
Melissa said everything was under control.
It wasn’t, quite.
The rolls were still waiting for oven space. The ham needed slicing. Nobody had thought about keeping the potatoes hot while the vegetables heated.
Derek spent most of the next hour going between the kitchen and the folding tables, answering questions Karen usually answered before anyone knew to ask them.
Where were the extra forks?
Was there another serving spoon?
Could somebody get Rufus away from the cheese?
At three, they began putting food out.
The meal looked different from the one Melissa had described, but the guests took plates and helped themselves.
Greg asked Derek whether he wanted a hand with the ham.
Sandra complimented the flowers.
Then she asked where we were.
Melissa said, “They couldn’t make it at the last minute. Karen was supposed to handle the food.”
Derek was carrying a bowl of potatoes when he heard her.
He put it on the table.
“They’re visiting a friend in Florida,” he said.
“Oh,” Sandra said. “How nice.”
Melissa added, “There was a misunderstanding.”
Derek didn’t tell the whole table what had happened. He didn’t need to.
But when Sandra said she hoped we were having a good trip, he answered, “They are. We should have planned this better.”
It was a small correction.
For him, in that room, it was a difficult one.
In Sarasota, Pat asked whether we wanted to walk before dinner.