Katniss runs around the house, checking off the list of things to do.
House cleaned and decorated, check.
Haymitch invited, check.
Turkey frying, no. No?
"Peeta?" Katniss calls out. "Yeah? I'm in the kitchen," he says. She goes in there to find a surprisly clean kitchen. After all the cooking he has done, making every dish from the sweet potato souflle to the turkey, not one spot is on the counters.
"How are you cooking the turkey?" Katniss asks, hoping it's in the oven because she is almost positive it's not in the fryer.
"Turkey? Oh... OH!"
Haymitch is coming in a hour, it's 4:00 PM. It takes about two hours to fry the turkey.
"Don't worry Peeta, you got it seasoned right? We can fry it or bake or whatever in two hours, so we'll be an hour late, Haymitch will live," Katniss says.
"I know, I just wanted Willow's first Thanksgiving to be perfect."
"An hour doesn't matter so much Peeta, it will be perfect enough," Katniss says, quickly kissing her husband of thirteen years and going upstairs to check on the baby.
Hearing the soft coos of her daughter as entering the nursery, Katniss wonders why she waited so long for it. Willow almost 7 months old, and beautiful as the day is long. Brown curls, blue eyes, an angel. She holds her baby and takes her downstairs. She stands at the doorway of the kitchen watching her husband. He turns and smiles at the two of them, a beautiful site.
He comes over and wraps an arm around Katniss, kissing the top of her head and staring at his daughter. Katniss lays her head on Peeta's chest. Looking at her husband and child, she realizes how thankful she is.