Magic Hour

“What about Max? He doesn’t have any family here.”

Ellie’s gaze was a laser beam. “No,” she said slowly. “He doesn’t.”

“I’ll . . . call him, then.”

“You’re playing with fire, little sister, and you burn easily.”

“It’s just a dinner invitation.”

“Yeah, right.”

“HAVE YOU SEEN THE AMOUNT OF BUTTER THAT GOES IN MOM’S DRESSING? This can’t be right.”

Ellie didn’t bother answering her sister. She was facing issues of her own. Somewhere in this turkey (what the hell had Julia been thinking to buy a twenty-pound bird? They’d be eating turkey until Lent) was a bag of body parts she didn’t want to eat, but apparently also didn’t want to cook. “You think the giblet bag dissolves during cooking? If I get my arm any farther up this bird’s ass, I’m gonna see my own fingers.”

Julia looked down at her own task, frowning. “Do you have an at-home defibrillator?”

Ellie laughed at that. “Aha!” she said a minute later, finding the giblet bag and pulling it out. She then basted the bird with butter (to Julia’s horror) and placed it on Grandma Dotty’s roasting pan. “Are you going to put some of the dressing in the bird?”

“I guess so.”

When the bird was stuffed and in the oven, Ellie looked around the kitchen. “What’s next?”

Julia pushed the hair out of her eyes and sighed. It was only nine o’clock in the morning and already she looked as wiped out as Ellie felt. “I guess we could start on Aunt Vivian’s green bean recipe.”

“I always hated that. Green beans and mushroom soup? Why not just have a salad—we have a bagged one in the fridge.”

“You’re a genius.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“I’ll get started on the potatoes.” Julia headed for the porch. When she opened the door, cold air swept through, mingling with the hot air from the roaring fireplace to create a perfect mixture of warmth and crispness. On the top step, she sat down. A bag of potatoes was on the floor at her feet, along with a peeler.

Ellie poured two mimosas and followed her sister out to the porch. “Here. I think we’ll need alcohol. Last year a lady in Portland served wild mushrooms at a dinner party and killed all her guests.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a doctor.”

Laughing, Ellie handed her a glass and sat down.

Together, they stared out at the backyard.

Alice was dressed in a pretty eyelet dress and pink tights, sitting on a wool blanket. There were birds all around her—mostly crows and robins—fighting among themselves to eat from her hand. Beside her, a bag of past-their-prime potato chips provided her with endless crumbs.

“Why don’t you take her a glass of juice or something? She’s really calm when she’s with her birds. It might be a good time to start bonding.”

“She looks like a Hitchcock movie. What if the birds peck my eyes out?”

Julia laughed. “They’ll fly away when you get there.”

“But—”

Julia touched Ellie’s arm. “She’s just a little girl who has been through hell. Don’t saddle her with anything else.”

“She’ll run away from me.”

“Then you’ll try again.” Julia reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a red plastic measuring cup. “Give her this.”

“She still gaga over the color red?”