Taylor burst out laughing. Just then, the video hub on her kitchen counter lit up with an incoming call, undoubtedly from her mother. Her parents had sent her the device for her birthday, and they were the only ones who used it to call her. Well, her mother used it. The Colonel was satisfied with a quick Just checking on you text once every other week.

She pressed the green answer button. “Hey, Mom, what’s up?”

Her mother stood at the granite countertop in their newly remodeled kitchen, unloading groceries from a cloth grocery bag. Her sensible bob cut didn’t have a strand of hair out of place.

“What are you smiling about?” her mother asked.

Taylor looked up from her phone. “Nothing,” she answered.

Taylor: I need to go. TTYL.

She added a heart emoji without thinking, and hit send.

“Fuck!”

“Taylor Renee!” Gail Powell screeched.

“I’m sorry!” Taylor said. “Give me a sec, Ma.”

Taylor: Ignore that emoji. My finger slipped.

Jamar: You sure about that?

Taylor: YES!!!

She slumped against the counter and tried to get her accelerated heart rate back to a normal level.

“Excuse my language,” she apologized again to her mother.

“I can’t talk for long,” her mother said in that I’ve-got-places-to-go-and-people-to-see tone of voice she used when in the middle of a hectic day. “What are your plans for Thanksgiving? Are you coming in the Tuesday before like you did last year?”

“Ma, I told you that I can’t do both Thanksgiving and Daddy’s party— Wait, is he around?”

“He isn’t, but it doesn’t matter. I’m convinced he knows about the party.”

“How? I thought you were being careful?”

“That man knows everything,” her mother said. She folded the cloth bag and directed her full attention at the screen. “If you can’t afford the plane ticket home for Thanksgiving, your father and I will pay for it.”

“It’s not about the money.” Biggest lie ever. Even with the money she was making with Jamar, she still couldn’t afford those airline prices at Thanksgiving.

“I have clients to consider,” she said. She had one client, but still. “And you know Thanksgiving is the start of my busy season. I have a ton of meal prep—” Not a lie now that she was doing meal prep for Jamar. She was working on a low-carb alternative to sweet potato pie. “I just can’t take that much time off from work.”

“What I’m hearing is that this is no longer a question of you having to decide between Thanksgiving and your father’s sixtieth birthday party. You’ve already made your decision.”

Taylor hunched her shoulders. “Well, Thanksgiving comes around every year. The Colonel only turns the big Six Oh once. If given the choice, I think Dad would rather I be there for his birthday party.”