Sage didn’t think it was possible, but she now felt even lower than low. How could she live with herself when she was clearly such a worthless human being? Because she was afraid to be in the same house as Spence, she was going to deprive everyone else of a happy holiday. They might as well call her the Thanksgiving Grinch and get her a green costume—no, make it in harvest colors—and a big bag to steal all the pies and all the paper turkeys and Pilgrim decorations while she was at it.
“I’m sorry, Grandma. I just wanted to have you and Aunt Eileen and Grace all to myself, but if you want to go out there for Thanksgiving, I’m sure that would be fine. I’d better call the hospital and double-check that they won’t need me, though. I’m sure if they do, I can at least drive you out to the Whitmans’ first,” she said, feeling inspired.
She’d just volunteer, whether they needed her or not. That would solve everything. Everyone would then have a great Thanksgiving, including her. Lonely, but great.
“You can’t work on Thanksgiving, sweetheart. You already have the day off. I called the hospital to verify before I made any plans. They don’t put any elective surgeries on the board on the holidays and they already have an on-call doctor set up for emergencies, so you’re free. I’m so happy. This will be a beautiful holiday.” Bethel had perked up as she spoke.
Sage knew when she was beaten. It looked like she was going to have to put her acting skills to the test.
“I’d better get to making the pies,” Bethel said. “After all, Thanksgiving is tomorrow.”
Sage watched her grandma move with slightly too much grace and purpose around the kitchen for a woman who claimed she wasn’t feeling well. Then Sage felt guilty again. She was certain Bethel was pushing herself to make sure she had something to bring to the dinner.
Sage would have liked to help her, but she had to leave for the hospital. “Don’t work too hard, Grandma. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As she left, she hoped she could make it through tomorrow without getting burned.
SAGE WATCHED AS all the color left Grace’s cheeks. “I did not tell your grandma I’d go to the Whitmans’ place for Thanksgiving,” Grace almost wailed. “I thought we were having it here.”
“The car is here, girls. Don’t bother taking your coat off, Grace.” Bethel shut and locked the door with Sage and Grace still standing on the covered front porch.
Sitting in the driveway was one of the Whitmans’ large SUVs, looking sleek and warm as it waited for passengers.
“Grandma said you really wanted to go,” Sage said, looking at the open back door of the SUV. She didn’t know what to think now. Her grandma wouldn’t have intentionally lied. Certainly not. Bethel was as honest as the day was long.
“I’m sure she just got confused,” Grace said, feeling the same way as Sage. There was just no possible way that Bethel Banks would lie. All the kids who’d known her called her Grandma and had been eating her cookies and special lemonade for as long as Grace could remember.
“Well, I’m not going alone, so suck it up,” Sage growled through her teeth just as Bethel leaned out the door and called for them again. “Coming, Grandma.”
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Grace said as she and Sage stepped off the porch and began walking toward the waiting vehicle. They looked as if they were going to a funeral, not to a holiday feast.
By the end of the night, they might be. It very much depended on the behavior of both Spence and Camden, because, with the way those boys were playing with Sage’s and Grace’s emotions, the two women were likely to team up and off one or both of the men.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to arrive,” Martin called out from the wide-open front door as Bethel and her group made their way up the ornate front steps of the Whitman ranch house.
“You know how girls are,” Bethel said, leaning in to kiss Martin on the cheek. “They like to take their time getting all pretty.”
“It was well worth the wait. You ladies are stunning, and now we won’t have just a bunch of old men sitting around the table,” Martin replied, a special light overtaking his features as he glanced over at Eileen.
“Thank you for inviting us, Martin. I’m sure this will be the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had,” Eileen said shyly, surprising them all when a rosy color suffused her cheeks.
“I know it’s already my best,” Martin said, taking Eileen’s arm and running it through his.
“Yes, thank you for having us,” Sage said as she followed the group inside.
“I swear I’m going to kill you for this,” Grace whispered as the door shut behind them. “You could have warned me or something.”
“I couldn’t warn you. Up until you arrived at the house, I thought you wanted to come. Besides, you won’t have to kill me—I just might take my own life,” Sage replied. “I’d rather eat crickets than be here and make small talk with Spence.”
“Welcome, ladies,” Michael said as they stepped into the parlor. “Would you like a predinner drink?”
“Yes!” Sage and Grace said in unison, grinning at each other. They might need five or six to get through the evening.
“Well, then, you’re in luck—I’ve prepared my special eggnog,” Spence said as he walked into the room. He was wearing a nice pair of slacks that were custom tailored and hugged his thighs to perfection. The green sweater covering his sculpted chest matched his eyes to a T and looked exquisite. Sage found herself wanting to run her hands over the fabric to see whether it felt as soft as it looked.