Chapter 4

Ophelia placed the final plate on the table in the formal dining room when she heard Sullivan arrive. Sawyer had mentioned that he had invited Giselle as his guest for Thanksgiving dinner, so Ophelia was prepared to see him with a date.

"It looks good, Ophelia," Sawyer said as he flung an arm around her shoulders while popping a deviled egg in his mouth. They were his favorite, and they always made him an extra tray.

Reyna insisted on making the holiday meals herself, and sometimes she enlisted the aid of her children. Now that she had Ophelia, Reyna was always the sous-chef while Ophelia did all the heavy lifting.

"Thanks," Ophelia said as she tweaked the tablecloth then moved back towards the kitchen. She had noted that Sullivan had brought Giselle through the front door and not the back. She didn't know why that pleased her so much, but perhaps it was because he kept it a formal invite.

Reyna was currently sitting in the middle of the very posh living room holding court with her family. It had been a long two weeks. Pops had been filming his part as the detective, Ophelia had been booking hotels, catering, and everything else the movie would need, as well as helping Reyna with all her day-to-day needs.

Reyna's hearing problem had simply been a buildup of wax, and it had taken the doctor less than ten minutes to clear her ear. She was like a new woman, and her hearing had improved by leaps and bounds.

All the children had been in and out of the house regularly, but the family rarely sat down to a meal together, which was why it was odd that Giselle had been invited. Generally, the holidays were for family only.

"Giselle, do you cook?" Reyna asked in a friendly manner as she relaxed into the plush chair next to the fireplace. Sullivan leaned against the fireplace next to his mother while Giselle settled into the sofa next to Pops, who was working a crossword puzzle. Sawyer wandered in and sat on the arm of the chair where Shay was curled up, eyeing Giselle.

Polly had run through the house and found Ophelia in a minute, leaning against her leg as she received the attention due to her.

Ophelia took in the scene and bit back a smile. They were a hard room to win over, even though they were throwing off a friendly vibe. Her eyes met Sullivan's for a quick moment before she turned and walked back into the kitchen to wash her hands and finish up the meal.

"No, hardly ever. I barely know how to boil water," Giselle admitted.

"What's a five-letter word for sag?" Pops asked with a frown. "Reyna?"

"That's a bit rude, Pops!" Sawyer said, purposely misunderstanding him. "Momma doesn't sag!"

Ophelia smiled at Sawyer's joke. She could practically see the look on Reyna's face.

"Sullivan's pants!" Shay suggested with a smile in her voice as she made fun of his recent weight loss.

"Too many letters," Pops said in a serious voice. "Ophelia!" he called across the house.

"Droop!" she called back as she opened the oven.

"That's probably how Ophelia feels being trapped in the kitchen," Reyna insisted as she stood gracefully and joined her in the kitchen. "How does it look?" she asked, looking over Ophelia's shoulder.

"Ready to come out of the oven," Ophelia said as she reached for the potholders and pulled the very heavy and hot turkey out, and put it on the trivets on the center island.

"Come on, children, it's time to carry everything to the dining room," Reyna said as she handed Ophelia the rolls to put into the oven.

The kids all came in, and each picked up a dish to carry to the table.

"Don't you have a chef?" Giselle asked, confused.

"Yes, but I always cook the holiday meals along with the children," Reyna insisted as she gave her children a loving smile. "Holidays are for family."

Ophelia heard the reprimand, but one might take the comment as an honor to be included, especially if they were a bit of a narcissist, which Ophelia would bet Giselle was.

"Ophelia is here, working," Giselle pointed out, and the room grew deathly quiet.

"Ophelia is family, and she very kindly gave me a break to greet our guest," Reyna said in her sweetest voice, making it clear that her earlier comment was not a compliment.

"It's time to carve," Ophelia softly said. It wasn't really. The bird still needed a few more minutes to rest, but something needed to be done to break the tense silence. "Pops?" she asked, holding out the knife and fork.

"No, I think it's time to pass that tradition on, Sullivan, you're the oldest." Pops stepped aside and patted his son on the shoulder.

"Sure, Pops," Sullivan said and joined Ophelia next to the bird, his hands brushing hers as he took the utensils.

"The blessing, Carson," Reyna reminded him. Ophelia could hear a touch of aggravation in her tone. She was still mad at Giselle's comment. Reyna had told Ophelia many times during the day that she was thankful to have a young person in the kitchen to help, and Ophelia knew that it was harder on Reyna than it used to be.

"Let's all join hands," Reyna said with her overly bright movie-star smile. Her feelings had been hurt.

Reyna took one of Ophelia's hands, and Ophelia squeezed it in support while Sullivan took her other. Ophelia's heart stopped at the feel of her small hand in his large one. It was the first time they had ever held hands. Their fingers intertwined automatically. It was an intimate way to old a hand, normally during such times, Ophelia would wrap her fingers around the palm, not lace them through the other persons.

Carson had channeled his inner preacher and gave a long-winded prayer that was borderline reminiscent of Thanksgiving pasts. It even included Polly. Ophelia would have been alright standing there all afternoon with her hand in Sullivan's, but she could sense the others getting restless, so she lifted her head and peeked at Pops, who was watching them all with amusement. He had been dragging it out on purpose.

Ophelia lifted her eyebrow, and he said amen.

"There, now the turkey is properly blessed and rested." He winked at Ophelia then turned to ask Giselle what she thought about the history of the Indians as he directed her into the dining room.

"Native Americans, Pops!" Sullivan called as he followed them, making sure his father stayed P.C.

Sullivan was still holding her hand as he watched them go, and Ophelia wasn't mad about it.

"Turkey, Sully. I'm hungry." Shay said as she winked at Ophelia, having noted that he was still holding her hand. Ophelia had never told Shay how she felt about Sullivan, but she had a feeling that Shay knew.

"Don't butcher it," Ophelia said as she pulled her hand from his and turned to grab a serving plate, embarrassed that Shay had to notice their hands.

"Why do you think I would butcher it?" Sullivan asked as he picked up the knife and fork. "Besides, isn't butchering it kind of the point?" he asked.

Ophelia flexed the hand he had been holding before she reached for another fork.

"Let's be honest. You're not the most patient of people." Ophelia was talking without thinking.

"I disagree. I think I am an extremely patient person." Sullivan made the first slice, and it was perfect. "I deal with you and Momma regularly."

Ophelia ignored the comment, glad that his mother had left to join the others.

Sullivan's carving skills were top-notch, and he made quick work of the bird as Ophelia loaded the serving plate with the juicy meat. The buzzer on the oven went off to let her know the rolls were ready, and Ophelia turned, grabbing a potholder before opening the oven. She misjudged the weight of the pan, and it started to slip, without thinking; she reached out and grabbed it with her other hand, hissing as the heat hit her fingers.

Sullivan grabbed the pan as it fell from her hands with a towel and threw it on the counter as he grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the sink. He then turned the water on full blast and shoved her fingers under the cold water while his entire body wrapped around hers. Both of his arms were wrapped around her as he grabbed her hand and with both of his.

"Fool, why did you do that!" his voice was low and angry.

"It's fine, Sullivan. It's not the first time I have burned myself, and it's not an awfully bad burn." Ophelia felt herself fighting tears. Not because she was hurting but because he had called her a fool.

"Where's the turkey!" Shay called from the other room.

"Move!" Ophelia turned off the water and dried her hands as she reached for the basket for the rolls. She threw them in haphazardly and shoved them at Sullivan. "Go, I'll bring the turkey."

Ophelia wouldn't meet his eyes, and she waited for him to do as she asked. He muttered something under his breath, then turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

Ophelia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her father had always called her a fool, among other not so nice things. His choice of the word had hurt, but she couldn't let him know that.

Rolling her shoulders and neck, she picked up the plate of turkey and walked into the dining room with a smile.

"Sullivan did almost as good a job carving as you, Pops," Ophelia said as she sat the turkey down in the middle of the table, watching as they reached for it.

She could feel Sullivan's eyes on her, but she refused to look at him.

Dinner was a hit, the food was delicious, and the talk was stimulating. Even Giselle had managed to find her groove as she told them a few entertaining stories. Ophelia remained quiet, only answering questions when she was directly asked.

As the meal ended and they were cleaning, Shay pulled her aside.

"Can we talk later?" She looked upset.

"Sure, can you meet me at the cottage in about an hour?" Ophelia offered.

Shay nodded her agreement, then pasted a smile back on her face as she responded to a barb that Sawyer had just thrown.

Shay wasn't an actress by profession, but she was as good at hiding her feelings as the others when she wanted.