“Isabella had to leave town suddenly,” Hudson said finally. “Family emergency.”
The room fell silent as thirty-two people processed this information.
“She left today?” This from Ruby’s sister, who, unlike Ruby, had made the guest list.
“What kind of emergency happens at 4:00 a.m. on Thanksgiving morning?”
Hudson didn’t have an answer.
Uncle Raymond cleared his throat.
“Well, what’s the plan for dinner then?”
All eyes turned to Hudson and Vivien. Thirty-two people who had made no backup plans, brought no substantial food contributions, and arranged their entire day around a meal that had been promised to them.
“We’re working on it,” Vivien said weakly.
Little Timmy Sanders, the six-year-old with the severe nut allergy, tugged on his mother’s dress.
“Mommy, I’m hungry. When are we eating?”
His innocent question seemed to break whatever spell had been keeping the room politely quiet. Suddenly, everyone was talking at once.
“Maybe we should order pizza.”
“Pizza places aren’t open on Thanksgiving.”
“What about Chinese food?”
“With a six-year-old who has food allergies?”
“This is insane. We should have been told earlier.”
“Where exactly did Isabella go? How long have you known she wasn’t going to be here?”
Hudson felt the walls closing in around him. Thirty-two pairs of eyes, all looking to him for answers he didn’t have, solutions he couldn’t provide.
That’s when his phone buzzed with a text message.
It was from Isabella’s number.
The entire room seemed to sense his reaction as he opened the message. Everyone fell silent, waiting to hear what his missing wife had to say.
The text contained a single photo. Isabella, wearing a yellow sundress he’d never seen before, sitting at a beachside restaurant with a tropical drink in her hand. Her hair was loose and flowing in the ocean breeze. Her face was turned toward the camera with an expression of pure, radiant peace.
Below the photo, a simple message: “Thanksgiving dinner in paradise. Tell Vivien the turkey is her problem now.”
Hudson stared at the phone, his brain struggling to process what he was seeing. His wife, his reliable, predictable, always accommodating wife, was in Hawaii. She wasn’t handling a family emergency. She wasn’t planning to return in time to save dinner. She had planned this. She had chosen this. She had abandoned thirty-two people on Thanksgiving. And from the look on her face in that photo, she had absolutely no regrets about it.
Na
USA