“I would’ve known if he hadn’t said anything,” she commented as she dropped some of the onions in my bowl. “You still move like a dancer.” She smiled. “I danced and watching Teresa over the years, you come to be able to recognize that in others.”

“It’s nice to hear that. I mean, I don’t feel like I still do.”

“You do.”

I was back to the mushing part again and I decided that was my favorite. I was weird.

“You never made stuffing with your mom?” Cam’s mother asked.

It was an innocent question, but it caused a deep ache to slice across my chest. My mom and I hadn’t been the closest two people in the world before the incident, but afterward, our relationship was nonexistent. “I don’t think my mom knows how to cook,” I said finally.

“You don’t think?”

I shook my head. “My parents aren’t into cooking dinners.”

There was a pause. “Cameron said they travel a lot during the holidays?”

“Yeah, and they kind of like doing their own thing, you know, daughter free.” I forced out a laugh, shrugging it off. “I mean, I’m okay with that. I can’t ski to save my life and being stuck on a ship in the middle of an ocean isn’t something I’m into.”

Mrs. Hamilton was silent as we added the last of the ingredients and I dug my fingers into it, liking the way it slid through my fingers. “So what do you normally do when you’re home?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t be by myself the whole time. They have a maid that usually cooks dinner for me before she goes home. It’s really nice of her because she’s not required to work during the holidays.”

“What about Christmas?”

“The same,” I admitted, surprising myself. I glanced up and found her watching me. “It’s not really a big deal. My family isn’t very close and so it’s probably better this way.” After saying that, I figured it probably wasn’t the best thing to say. “Anyway, I’m done. What’s the next step?”

“It goes in the turkey.” She smiled, but it seemed a little off. “Want to do the honors?”

“Sure.” I waited for her to turn the bird around and then I completed the somewhat gross task of getting all in the turkey’s personal space.

When I was done, I headed over to the double sink while she wrapped the turkey in foil and placed it in a roaster.

“Thank you for helping me, Avery.”

“No problem,” I said. “I’m happy to have helped.” And I really was. “It was fun.”

Mrs. Hamilton smiled at me, though her eyes were sad. “Well, honey, you’re always welcomed here for the holidays. There’s never enough hands when it comes to making food.”