When we arrive back at the Dawsons’ house, it’s filled with the mouth-watering aroma of roasting turkey. Everyone returns to their rooms to change. I put on a black sweater dress before heading back out into the kitchen.

Mike’s friend Jason arrives shortly thereafter, along with his parents. His father is a quiet, soft-spoken man, but his mother bustles into the kitchen and introduces herself as Caroline.

As we sit in the kitchen making the final food preparations, Caroline and Ellen regale me with stories from their teenage years growing up in Fulton. Their tales of field parties and school dances sound like a different world than the isolated one I grew up in.

“So, Vivienne, you were at school in London before starting at Lincoln?” Caroline asks. No one in Jace’s family has questioned me about my background, so I assumed he already told them, but Caroline’s question confirms it.

I feel bad lying to her, but also recognize my cover story is the only reason I’m currently sitting in the Dawson’s kitchen. I experience an extra stab of guilt thinking of how I’m lying to my security team. The least I can do is ensure there’s no reason they will need to fly to Nebraska, so I quickly summarize my concocted background for Caroline. Thankfully, she doesn’t press for details about my family, instead informing me she studied abroad in London during college and then peppering me with questions about the city. The questions are all ones I have prepared answers to.

Caroline and Mrs. Dawson finish getting dinner ready with my limited input, and then Caroline heads outside to grab a cranberry sauce she brought. Mrs. Dawson finishes transferring the potatoes from the pan to a dish and comes over to stand next to me at the kitchen island.

“I’m sorry about Caroline,” she tells me. “Jace mentioned you don’t like talking about your background or family very much. I should have thought to say something to her, so she didn’t inundate you with so many questions.”

“Jace is perceptive,” I reply with a wry smile. “But don’t worry about it. I know Caroline didn’t mean any harm. My parents and I just have a…complicated relationship.”

“Families can be tricky. My parents didn’t speak to me for two years after I told them I wasn’t going to college and was staying here in Fulton with Patrick. They gave up a lot to provide me with the opportunity and didn’t understand how I could throw it away. But eventually they accepted my decision, and one day your parents will understand your view of things, too. Don’t tell my kids, but we parents don’t always know what we’re doing. We’re just doing our best.”

I nod, giving her a grateful smile.

“And know I’m always here to talk if you want to,” Ellen adds.

To my surprise and embarrassment, I feel tears prickling beneath my eyelids. I pull Mrs. Dawson into a hug. I’m not normally overly emotional or affectionate, but something about her maternal words elicits the urge in me.