Page 54 of Breadwinner

“Warn me? About what?”

“Oh,” Nate said, grinning as he pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just that there’s a ticking clock until I have to place our annual backup sushi order.”

“Backup sushi? Nell promised me a full Thanksgiving spread if I flew all the way out here...” Sarah looked at her, eyes sparkling in delight.

Nell rolled her eyes as Nate continued. “You haven’t heard the legend? Nell has never successfully cooked a turkey. Not once. Twenty years of elegant side dishes that are to die for, and poultry that looks like a crime scene.”

“That only happened once. The other times were unfortunate miscalculations that resulted in various levels of char,” she said, glaring at him. “And for God’s sake, Nate, it didn’t look like a crime scene. It was?—”

“Collapsed like a Jenga tower.” Nate shuddered. “I still have nightmares.”

Sarah snorted. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah.” Nate flashed the Notes app on his phone toward Sarah. “I’ve already got your order drafted and ready to go—cucumber avocado, absolutely no shellfish.”

“I feel so loved,” Sarah said, nudging Nell with her elbow. “Although I kind of want to see this infamous turkey disaster.”

Later, once the prep was mostly finished and the turkey was safely (for now) in the oven, Nell stayed in the kitchen while Nate and Sarah moved into the den. From her position by the stove, she could see them on the couch, Nate already shouting at the football game. Sarah stretched out beside him, long legs tucked under a blanket, laughing at something he said.

She dried her hands, taking the opportunity to linger at the kitchen doorway while taking a measured sip of the old-fashioned she had made for herself, savoring the full-bodied flavor on her tongue. She watched the two of them—Nate, her oldest, dearest friend, and Sarah, her... well, she didn’t quiteknow what Sarah was to her yet. It was unnerving how easily Sarah fit here, in her home, like she should have been here all along. Unnerving, yes, but not entirely unexpected.

“Do either of you need anything from the kitchen?” she called to the pair.

“I’ll take a glass of whatever you’re drinking,” Sarah called, and Nell caught the smile she gave her from across the room.

Nell expertly crafted Sarah’s drink before joining her and Nate. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly as she handed over the crystal tumbler to Sarah. She briefly eyed the empty cushion next to her before opting for the plush armchair instead. As Sarah and Nate watched the game, Nell pulled out a well-worn paperback she kept on the shelf for rare lazy days—a sapphic, end-of-the-world, second-chance romance.

She was halfway through an action-packed chapter, lost in the story, when she smelled it.

Burning.

She bolted upright, nearly knocking her book to the floor. “No—no, no, no?—”

Sarah looked up, startled. “What?—”

“The turkey,” Nell said, already running for the kitchen, knowing it was too late.

Smoke billowed as she opened the oven door, the bird inside already blackened in patches, one side sunken, the entire thing glistening in a way that suggested it had both overcooked and undercooked simultaneously.

Nate peered at her, arms crossed, fighting to contain his smile.

“It’s a masterpiece, Nellie. Truly. Your best turkey yet.”

Sarah appeared behind them a moment later, her face caught between sympathy and amusement. “It’s definitely something.” She bit her lip, also attempting to hide her laugh.

“I hate both of you,” Nell muttered, but they were all already laughing.

“Smile with the turkey, please,” Nate said. “I need the photo for my scrapbook. You, too, Sarah. Get in there.”

Nell obliged, sneaking a lewd gesture at Nate that Sarah definitely noticed, but Sarah leaned in next to her, slipping an arm around her waist, her body immediately stiffening at the touch before relaxing into the heat of Sarah’s hand resting gently on her hip.

That night, after they had all gone to their respective rooms, there was a quiet knock on her door.

“It’s me,” came Sarah’s muffled voice.

Nell froze before sliding out from under the covers, padding barefoot across the old wooden floors, and opening the door to find Sarah standing there in a T-shirt and pajama pants.

“I couldn’t sleep. I saw your light was still on and thought maybe we could talk for a bit.”