This time, I couldn’t find one.
I looked at the turkey.
Then at Brenda.
“If it’s only going to do,” I said quietly, “perhaps I should take it back.”
Graham stopped opening the wine.
Renee looked up from the dining table.
Brenda frowned.
“Take it back where?”
“To my mother’s house,” I answered. “She has a few people coming over. I’m sure she’d appreciate having a turkey.”
Brenda stared at me.
“You can’t be serious.”
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I took hold of the heavy platter.
“Margo,” Graham said sharply.
