Todd and Sunita were at the door, staggering under the weight of the most enormous turkey she’d ever seen. It looked like a defrocked poodle.
“I thought you wanted to put it in at noon,” Maribeth said. “Though that thing is huge, so maybe you’ll need more time.”
“A lot more time,” Todd said.
“It’s completely frozen,” Sunita explained.
“Didn’t they have any fresh birds left?”
“It was fresh last night.”
“What happened?”
“It was too big to fit in our fridge so Sunny thought we should leave it on the windowsill,” Todd said.
“We wouldn’t have had to get such a huge bird if Todd had gone shopping earlier in the week when there was more selection, like M.B. said we should,” Sunita said, her tone equally scornful.
Last night it had dropped to the twenties. Maribeth gave the bird a good knock. Yep. Frozen solid.
“What do we do?” Sunita asked.
“Defrost it somehow,” Maribeth said.
“It doesn’t even fit in our sink,” Sunita said.
She thought of her bath tub. “Maybe try the tub.”
“We thought of that. Ours doesn’t have a stopper.”
“Mine does. Better bring it in.”
The bath was still full, the water grimy with gray bubbles. Todd wrinkled his nose. “I don’t mean to be picky, but I think Fred deserves a fresh bath.”
“Fred?” Maribeth asked.
“He named the turkey,” Sunita explained.
She drained the water, quickly scrubbed the basin, and filled it with fresh water. Todd gently laid the turkey in. “That’ll warm you up.”
“You do realize it’s dead?” Sunita asked.
Todd covered the bird’s wings with his hands. “Obviously. But he doesn’t know,” he mock whispered.
Maribeth went to get herself a cup of coffee. When she saw her range, with a half-sized oven that was the same as Todd and Sunita’s, she went back into the bathroom.
“I’m afraid you guys have bigger problems than Frozen Fred.”
“What?” they asked.
“I don’t think he’ll fit in the oven.”
“Oh, I didn’t even think of that!” Sunita ran up the stairs. Maribeth heard the sound of her oven door creak open, then slam shut, then Sunita yelling: “Gah!”
“There’s no way,” she said when she returned to the bathroom. “Not even if we take out the racks. And we have like fifteen people coming.”
“Can’t you get a new turkey?” Maribeth asked.
“The store hardly had any birds left,” Todd said. “It was why we had to get such a huge one.”
“Try a different store,” Maribeth suggested.
“But we already blew all our money on groceries. We spent more than a hundred dollars.”
“I can pay for the bird.”
“But you’re not even coming,” Sunita said.
“Also, we don’t have a car,” Todd said. “Miles left for Philly today.”
“I guess we could see what the markets around here have,” Sunita said.
“I’m not going to the ShurSave,” Todd said.
“Maybe we can cook it in someone else’s oven?” Sunita said. “Your mom’s house.”
“We’d have to get it to the suburbs. How?”
“Take the bus.”
“On Thanksgiving? With Fred?”
“I suppose we could just cancel,” Sunita said.
They looked so crestfallen. Maribeth couldn’t bear it.
“I may know someone who can help,” she said.
“Really?” They looked at her with such sweet hopefulness.
She left a message with the service. “Not an emergency,” she repeated, not wanting to alarm him. But when he called back within ten minutes, she knew he had assumed the worst.
“It’s not a medical emergency; it’s a poultry one.” She told him about the turkey, presently being defrosted in her tub.
“Ahh, clever. It’s what they do for hypothermic patients.”
“Good to know our practices are medically sound. Now we just need a place to cook it. Neither of our ovens will hold it. And I thought of you, well, because you have that huge kitchen. But you’re probably going somewhere.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll pick you and the turkey up.”
“Fred,” she said.
“What?”
“The turkey’s name is Fred.”
33
Dr. Grant arrived by noon. Sunita and Todd wrapped the half-thawed Fred in a garbage bag and lugged him to the curb.
“You’re sure you don’t want us to come?” Sunita asked. “I feel like we’ve fobbed the whole thing off on you.”
“Do you know how to cook a turkey?” Maribeth asked.
Sunita shook her head.
“I’ll handle the bird. You do everything else. I’ll come back when it’s done.”
“Okay, but you have to come to the dinner now,” Sunita said. “Your friend, too.” She waved at Dr. Grant. “Thank you,” she called.
Maribeth said, “We’ll see.”
DR. GRANT HAD already preheated the oven and pulled out a roasting pan.
“My, you’re prepared.”
“I’m very comfortable being the sous-chef.”
Maribeth peered into the oven. It was spotless. She and Sunita had already made stuffing and put it in a Ziploc bag, and Maribeth had packed an extra onion, because she’d suspected, correctly, that Dr. Grant wouldn’t have one.