The children chorus a distracted, unconvincing “Love you, Aunt Bettie!” peppered with “Love you, aging serum,” by the youngest ones.

Felix pats my head, hand heavy. Grandma doesn’t offer any hugs, but she does offer me a drink from her thermos, which is a dash of coffee added to Baileys.

“So, the movie thing,” Felix cuts in. He’s got his Notes app out, Blake Lively and Ana de Armas as the nannies splashed across the top. “D’you think you could sign off on that, give me permission so I can get this thing going, or . . . ?”

“Not now,” Kaia growls. “She’s having a hard time, you halfwit. Bettie, I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to Hall. I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I know you can make it work. You looked so much in love.”

I sob louder, tears dripping into the thermos. Grandma observes it with a grim set to her mouth. I’m diluting the alcohol with my salt, which is wasteful.

“Don’t say Hall,” Felix loud-whispers out of the corner of his mouth. I notice he’s got lipstick on his jaw that matches the shade Marilou’s wearing. Nearly everybody has somebody, except for me. Why did I have to fall in love with an immortal mist!!

I shake Kaia’s shoulders, trying to rattle some sense into her. “And you.”

“Me? What’d I do?”

“Why did you let Courtney go? You loved her but you let her slip through your fingers because you’re scared.”

My bewildered sister can’t form a reply.

“Go get her back!” I exclaim. “Do you know how much I wish I could—” I stop. I can’t fully explain, so they’ll never understand. But even though they don’t understand, they close in, anyway.

“I’m okay.” I try to wave everyone off, but it’s like one of those Chinese finger traps—the harder I resist, the tighter they swell around me, until my eyes are bulging and my throat is constricted with the amount of attention they’re cramming down it. I’m snarling like a feral alley cat, but nobody is scared of me, and it’s insulting. I’m shooting off leave me alone signals that they’re misinterpreting as emergency please help me smoke flares. Hall has destroyed my family culture by imbuing these people with a caring spirit. I’ll never forgive him.

A sunburst of emotion fizzles bright inside my chest. My mind rewinds to when Hall and I first arrived at the Watsons’ house, when we were in the sitting room while everyone else congregated in the kitchen. I felt isolated, ignored, because they didn’t come to me. But I didn’t go to them, either. I hung back, lingering. What might have happened if I’d walked into the kitchen? If I’d hugged someone hello?

“I love you, Mom,” I force myself to say to her now, the words thick.

Surprise and pleasure unfurl on her face in a brilliant smile. “Oh, honey. I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to Thanksgiving.”