A/N: Here's the long promised combined Sinclair-Mackenzie Thanksgiving feast chapter. It's a long one, so I decided to post it closer to the weekend for all of you busy readers out there. It's chock full of dysfunctional family fun and blood related stranger meet-in-greets! We're now halfway through the new chapters, only 3 more chapters after this one until I mark this story complete. I do hope you're still enjoying it. Thank you for reading it. If you have the time to leave me your thoughts at the end, I'd appreciate it. And thank you to Cainc3, the best beta in the biz! Enjoy!
Chapter 30—Family Ties
***Thursday, November 26th, 2009 The Sinclair's house***
'Dad1' rang the doorbell, and Mac felt like she was waiting to be led to the guillotine. The Sinclair's' doorbell trilled the notes of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, providing a fitting soundtrack for Mac's underlying feelings of doom. Despite being a frequent visitor to the Sinclair's less than humble abode, she figured she'd never stop mentally cringing at the pretentious display.
Dick squeezed her hand; he'd been talking her down from several ledges the past couple of days.
'Mom1' was dressed in one of the approximately 65 pink dresses she owned, but Mac wasn't sure if it was new or not, since they all seemed interchangeable, she wasn't overflowing with fashionista know-how.
Mac noticed 'Mom1' white-knuckle gripping the paper shopping bag with the photo albums. In her other hand she was holding an orange vintage salad bowl shaped like a pumpkin. The smell of smoke mingled with the Lavender Fields perfume her mom always wore. The newest target date for her mom's quest to stop smoking was the week after Thanksgiving. Mac suspected it would be pushed back even farther, that had been the pattern for the past several months.
Stress didn't play fair.
Mac adjusted her black and white dress and pushed back an errant strand of hair. Her angled bob haircut was designed to obfuscate the uneven growth pattern her hair enacted after her head injury, but the layers were uneven, and she was often pushing hair out of her face. She missed her trademarked colored streaks in her hair. In her opinion, her black hair needed those extra pops of color to break up the monotony. She was denying herself on purpose. As soon as she'd made a full recovery and the accident was fully in her rear-view mirror, adding some purple streaks would be her survival present.
She tapped her foot. Did they get lost trying to find the front door? Mac felt like they'd been standing on the stoop for 10 hours. Just as she was about to grump about how long the entry process was taking, the door opened. She expected to see Lucille's graying head, but instead Ellen ('Mom2') was on the other side.
"Welcome," 'Mom2' said graciously. She stepped back to give everyone room to enter the foyer and murmured a personal greeting as each person walked in. She reached out and gently touched Mac's shoulder as she passed by. Mac couldn't help noticing the soft look on her bio mom's face. They shared a smile as though they were the only the two people in the room.
Taking the pumpkin bowl from Mom1's hands, she escorted them down the hall and into the library. It had been one of Mac's favorite escapes back in dreamworld.
'Dad2' was kneeling, adding more tinder to the fire he'd just built in the stone fireplace that flanked the east wall. He straightened up when they entered the cavernous room. Fritz, the Sinclairs' black and white tuxedo cat, was lounging in front of the fire. He lifted his head up to let out a meow upon noticing the new arrivals, then put his head back down, going back to his nap on the hearth.
"Look at all those books! Your built-in shelves are beautiful," 'Dad1' exclaimed. "So many works of staggering genius. It's a bookworm paradise."
"Thank you. Ellen and Lauren are the big readers in the house, this is their favorite hiding spot." 'Dad2' replied. "I must admit, however, dusting these tomes are quite the undertaking."
Mac doubted that duty fell to her bio dad, it was probably just another bullet point on a very long list of jobs bequeathed to the overworked, and underpaid, Lucille.
Spotting a paisley patterned loveseat on the other side of the room, Mac headed off in that direction, pulling Dick with her.
"What can I get everyone to drink?" 'Dad2' continued. "I've got a bottle of Bordeaux breathing. I also have several varieties of white wine, if that's more to your liking, Natalie. And Sam, I don't know if you're a scotch man, but I have a 20-year-old bottle of Macallan."
'Mom1' let out a row of three successive sneezes before saying the Bordeaux would be fine, since it was opened anyway. Her mom ignored the incredulous look Mac gifted her with. 'Mom1' never drank red wine, let alone an expensive, dry French one. She was even more surprised when 'Dad1' accepted the proffered rocks glass of Scotch. She waited for him to spit it out, but he played off his dislike very well. Her dad had been a Bud Light man for as long as she could remember.
As 'Dad2' continued playing bartender and fetching drinks, Lucille returned to the library with a group of new arrivals, an older man and a woman who Mac assumed was blood related to 'Mom2.' Genes didn't lie.
"Sis!" 'Mom2' practically squealed. She launched herself into the arms of a taller woman with the same dark hair, only this woman wore her hair in a sleek bob. After extracting herself from the hug, 'Mom2' took a half a step back and beckoned for Mac. "Mac, come here please. I have someone I want you to meet."
"I'll save your seat," Dick whispered in her ear.
"I feel like I'm in a zoo, always on display," Mac whispered back, before getting up and crossing the room.
"Sweetie, this is my older sister, Alice, and her husband Bill," 'Mom2' said, motioning with her hands. Then she continued, "Al, this is Mac. Her given name is Cindy, but she goes by Mac. She's a whiz with computers."
Mac shook hands with her uncle Bill but was pulled into an embrace by Alice. "I think Ellen oversold my computer skills, but it is my major at Hearst College." She said modestly, as she extracted herself from the hug.
"That's wonderful, Mac," Alice said. "It's an excellent school. Our daughter, Tara, who you'll meet soon, has a degree in nursing from Hearst. Our other daughter, Maggie, couldn't get enough time off to come home. She's with the FBI. They work her too hard, but she loves it. You two will have to talk shop next time she visits. She's a computer analyst. Beyond that, however, I don't know anything else about her job. It's all hush hush."
Something about the name Tara sounded vaguely familiar to Mac, but she couldn't recall the where's or why's. However, what really caught her attention was Maggie's job. Learning she had a genetic cousin with hacking skills finally answered her lifelong question of where her computer skills came from. Mac had been collecting those kinds of questions since birth.
"Where are Lauren and Madison?" Uncle Bill inquired.
"They're around here somewhere," 'Mom2' said, shrugging her shoulders. "I think Lauren was recruited as Lucille's sous chef for the day, and Madison will be joining us soon. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to make sure Lauren isn't burning our dinner."
After 'Mom2' left, Mac stood there a few more minutes making stilted small talk with her aunt and uncle.
The library started filling up as more groups of people arrived
As her eyes searched out Dick, Mac noticed that Ryan had usurped her place on the couch. The two guys were animatedly talking, she assumed it was video game related. She signaled to Dick with her index finger. Apparently getting the message, he extracted himself from Ryan, and made his way back to her. In typical Dick fashion, en route he made a brief stopover at the bar cart for some liquid refreshment.
Dick pressed a wine glass into Mac's hand, keeping a rocks glass filled to the brim with the pricey scotch for himself. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. Mac smiled her appreciation for the wine. She felt a little like a rebel drinking wine in her bio family's library. They were both of legal drinking age, rendering the feeling unfounded, but it lived on anyway.
If there was ever a day that required wine, this was it.
"I'm Dick," he directed at her aunt and uncle. "I go to school with Mac." He shook both their hands as greetings were exchanged.
"Are you a Computer Science major, too?" Bill asked.
Mac let out a little bark of laughter, before getting herself under control. "Not hardly."
Dick rolled his eyes at her, before saying "I'm a business major."
"He has to call tech support to turn on his laptop."
"Ha, ha, ha. Hilarious, Mackie, hilarious." Dick said.
"I'm not technologically inclined, either" Bill admitted. "Fortunately, my daughters are only a phone call away. It's like having my own private help desk."
"I hope you're not including me among your dedicated tech support team, dad. If it doesn't involve a ventilator, or an EKG, I'm useless. Maggie is your best bet with everything else." The new arrival said, joining their group. She gave Bill a brief kiss on his cheek, before turning to Alice, and giving her a hug as well. "You look great, mom."
Mac studied her. The newcomer, evidently her first cousin, was a few years older and a couple of inches taller than herself, but it was her face that really captured Mac's attention. It's not that they looked like long-lost twins, or anything dramatic like that, but it was obvious they were biologically connected, despite being strangers. They both had black hair, blue eyes, and a small button nose.
As Mac stared at the genetically related stranger in front of her she was sure this surreal, through the looking glass feeling would be repeated several more times throughout the day. Would she ever get used to this feeling? Was that even possible?
Formal introductions were made. Mac amusedly observed Dick openly staring at Tara. Fortunately, she was totally secure in their relationship, regardless of that new relationship sheen, otherwise she might have started getting jealous. Dick was not known for being subtle, but Mac figured he was cataloguing all the ways she resembled this genetically related stranger. The list was long.
"Ventilator?" Dick inquired, finally engaging Mac's cousin, rather than just staring.
"Yeah. It's a breathing machine," Tara said.
"I'm well-acquainted with them," Dick lamented. "After this summer, that is. I had a crash course."
Tara nodded, before elaborating, "I work at Neptune Memorial, so I deal with ventilators, EKGs, heart monitors, etc... But PC's, and laptops, on the other hand, aren't my forte. I have just enough knowledge to be dangerous."
"Yes! Neptune Memorial, of course. That's where I've seen you. You were Mac's night nurse in the ICU. Right?" Dick practically shouted, snapping his fingers. He added, "You were the cool nurse."
"That's right," Tara affirmed. "I remember you, too." Then her voice went softer in tone and timbre as she turned to Mac. "You look wonderful. I've been so happy to hear you're doing so well."
"I would say what a coincidence," Mac said, "but I'm pretty sure it's anything but." She looked down at the wineglass in her hand.
"Ellen pulled a few strings to get the best doctors, and nurses, including my talented girl here, assigned to your case." Aunt Alice confirmed. She touched Mac's hand. "We were all so worried. It was a heavily guarded secret, you know, your birth, but my baby sis and I have always been close. I've waited a lot of years to get to know you. We all have. It's so wonderful to finally meet you in person."
"Likewise," Mac mumbled back, trying to decide if she meant it. She finally decided that she did. "And I suppose you knew the whole time who I was, as well," she directed that comment to Tara.
"The whole time, no, but I did get suspicious about Aunt Ellen's sudden interest in my job, and more importantly, one particular patient. She passed you off as the daughter of an old family friend, but it's hard to dismiss how similar you and I look."
"No kidding," Dick jumped in before Mac could. "I thought you looked like an old version of Mackie." He paused a second, as if his internal sensor went off. "Shit…I mean, crap, I meant older, not old. You're not old, but you have a few years on Mac though."
Tara laughed and didn't seem offended. "I didn't know 28 qualified me for my AARP card."
"Dick suffers from Foot in Mouth disease," Mac explained, grinning.
"I hear that's going around these days," Tara teased.
"Ha, ha, ha! I don't suffer from it; I enjoy every minute of it." Dick corrected.
Mac rolled her eyes. Then her demeanor turned serious, as she said to Tara, "You remember me, but unfortunately I can't say the same." Her tone was rueful.
"No, of course not. You were asleep the whole time you were under my care. Unfortunately, I meet my patients at one of the worst times of their life. I don't usually get to see them again after they've recovered, the ones that do, that is," Tara paused, taking a deep breath. "At least with you I get a success story." She tentatively took a step towards Mac, like she wanted to hug her. "I'm glad you and Dick are still close friends. He was a fixture around the hospital when you were sick. I wish all my patients had people who cared about them as much as your support system cared about you." Tara sighed wistfully.
"Team Mac." Dick said softly, as if he were remembering those days spent in purgatory's waiting room, unsure if Mac would even survive. Then, he started to say, "Close friends, I guess you could say that, but now, we've actually started..."
"We're dating," Mac leaped in, beating Dick to the punchline this time.
"I knew it! Cheyenne owes me a drink." Tara sounded triumphant. "We had a friendly little wager, after you were transferred out of our unit. I thought you'd be dating by the end of the year, Cheyenne thought it would take longer than that."
"Cheyenne?" Mac was confused.
"The day nurse in the ICU," Dick replied. "I caught her checking me out, several times in fact."
"She's got a son in high school, not that much younger than you, Dick," Tara corrected. "So, I highly doubt she was checking you out."
"Eh! I know what I saw," Dick said, preening.
Once the argument—if it was worthy of that classification—about whether, or not, Cheyenne checked out Dick's assets was exhausted, talk meandered back to Mac and Dick finally dating.
Suddenly, a shiver ran down Mac's back, as though someone stood behind her and dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. She didn't even need to turn around to know that Madison had entered the room, in her typical grand entrance fashion. It felt as though Madison was mentally trying to vaporize her out of existence. She idly wondered if she had a Mac Voodoo doll up in her room, it wouldn't surprise her. Truthfully, nothing about Madison Sinclair surprised her anymore. Her working theory was that Madison needed someone to blame, and the fear of losing the parents that raised her, and most importantly their money, made it easier to take things out on her than someone more culpable in the whole mess.
"You two are still dating?" Madison asked Dick, an incredulous edge in her voice. She interjected herself physically between him and Mac. Her tone carried its signature nasally whine, she arched one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and placed her French Manicured hand (read: talons) proprietarily on Dick's arm. "I wouldn't have thought you two would last more than 10 minutes, tops."
"Yes, we're still dating. It's been a couple of months now, and we're still going strong. Thank you for asking." Mac replied, ignoring the fact that she was purposefully being nudged out of the conversation. That topic had come up a time or three during one of their Sunday night dinners, but this was the first time Dick had been invited to join the festivities. Madison had never really been one to trust anything she couldn't see face to face.
"Madison, darling, how are you?" Alice broke in, presumably changing the subject. She gave her niece a hug.
"Surviving, Aunt Alice." Gone was the whiney, simpering voice she'd used on Dick, in its place was poor, pitiful, victim Madison. She was turning in an Oscar caliber performance so far.
Mac stifled the urge to clap and yell bravo.
She noticed 'Mom2' coming back into the room with more guests, including her grandma Franklin, the grandmother of her heart, not genetics. Her grandma came up to their group, and immediately gave Mac a hug, reassuringly whispering how much she loved her, before being introduced to Madison, and the rest of the group. Mac noticed both women had the same green eyes, and cleft chin.
Madison was deftly led away by 'Mom2' to get to know the Mackenzie and Franklin side of her bonus family. Her new aunt, uncle and cousin excused themselves shortly after, leaving Mac and Dick to their own devices.
"Maybe they could put you and Madison in a receiving line," Dick suggested, grabbing Mac's free hand.
"That would be more efficient," Mac agreed. "or maybe they could just put us in a gilded cage, with a sign warning everyone not to feed us." She took a big, fortifying sip of wine.
"They can throw the food my way instead, I'm starving."
"Well, it is a day that ends in Y."
"I'm a growing boy."
Mac was about to remind him of his age, and how he was past the growing boy stage of development when Lauren walked over to them.
After exchanging greetings and hugs, Lauren added "did I hear you say that you're hungry, Dick? You're in luck, dinner is almost ready."
"I take it nothing got burned?" Mac teased, flashing her sister a grin. Being able to call Lauren her sister (though it was still a title she only used in her mind), hadn't lost its luster. Any tinge of regret that would pop up when thoughts of her new reality made their daily rounds faded away as soon as she thought about Lauren.
"No. Nothing ever gets burned under Lucille's watchful eye. I also managed to avoid cutting off my fingers."
"Well, that's good, I guess. Blood isn't a very good seasoning." Mac stated.
"Unless you're a vampire," Dick corrected.
"Every rule has an exception." Lauren agreed, shrugging.
"So, where is Kyle today?" Mac asked, hoping to shift the topic away from vampires.
"Sleeping, I think. He's only allowed to come out at night," Lauren teased. "Oh, never mind. I forgot we're not in Twilight." She laughed. "At the Kane estate, I think."
"The Kane's'?" Mac was sure her surprise was etched on her face.
"His dad is a Vice President of some division of Kane Software. Mr. and Mrs. Kane are having their usual catered affair for 200 of their closest friends and business associates."
"Guess his dad has a key to the executive washroom."
"I think it's a gold-plated key," Lauren joked. She was about to make another comment about Kyle when something else caught her attention. She let out an excited squeal before saying, "Grandma Cole, over here!" She made a beckoning motion with her hand. "Grandma Cole, my mom's mom, er our mom's mom. She's the best! You'll love her."
"Lauren, darling, you look beautiful. You're so grown up these days." The older woman said, as she enveloped her granddaughter in a hug. An older man hovered behind her.
"Thank you, grandma. I'd like you both to meet Mac and her boyfriend, Dick." Lauren said after extracting herself from the older woman's arms.
"Hi," Mac said shyly, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you, finally." She looked down at her shoes, hoping to discover the secrets of the Universe from them.
Ignoring the outstretched hand, Mac's new grandmother folded her into another bone crushing hug, much like she'd just bestowed on Lauren. She could smell the scent of lavender on her grandmother, she presumed it was Lavender Fields, 'Mom1's signature perfume. She felt instantly comfortable with this stranger. Her grandpa Cole took the next turn.
Another wave of déjà vu broke over her, as she remembered the remarkably similar, yet completely different Sinclair Thanksgiving gathering she'd endured in her coma dream. She had long ago lost count of the details in that dimension that lined up exactly with the real world. It was bordering on becoming the living embodiment of the string theory, which held that the world was comprised of one-dimensional strings layered upon one another, each dimension lay parallel to one another. Was it just a coma dream or had she temporarily dwelled in another universe? As those mind-bending thoughts whirled around in her head, Mac's gaze landed on Fritz, who, in this string of reality, was still lazing by the fire. He looked up just then, as though under mind meld, and let out a faint meow before putting his head back down to continue his cat nap.
As she was released from the hug, Mac internally commanded herself to stop ruminating, and stay in her present dimension. She gave her grandparents the requested rundown of her life. Twenty-one years was too long of a timeframe to adequately cover; however, she did hit all the basics, keeping it brief, and bypassing several key chapters of her life, including a few footnotes she'd never want to get back to Madison.
About five minutes into the conversation, Mac recognized the signs that a tension headache was trying to break the surface, so she found an exit from the group and made her way back to the couch. Dick followed behind, stopping briefly at the bar cart to refill his scotch. He sat down beside her, putting the arm not holding the rocks glass around her shoulders. She smiled wanly at him as she absent-mindedly rubbed her left temple, close to the original point of impact of the baseball. Though she was silently willing the headache away, it had stormed the gates holding it back and began a full force assault.
Mac watched Madison—AKA beta Cindy—holding court with 'Mom1' and 'Dad1,' her aunt Linda (Dad1's younger sister) and a few Mackenzie cousins that had just trickled into the library. She had no right to be jealous, since she'd been doing the same thing with the Sinclair and Cole branches, but she wasn't in a gracious mood. The pain bore down, she gritted her teeth. Passing her now empty wineglass off to Dick, she used her free hand to rub her neck.
"Headache?" Dick asked in a sympathetic tone. He was well-versed in recognizing the signs, another perk of dating her.
"Just a small one," Mac lied. It was shaping up to be a bad one on her personal Geiger Counter, but she downplayed it, as was her default state. This headache was a blend of all the typical ingredients required to create one of her post-recovery headaches—stress, wine, dim lighting, complex sci-fi theories coming to life, etc. Usually only one, or two, of those triggers were sufficient, but she always was an overachiever.
Fritz woke up again and ambled over to the couch. He hopped up and went straight for Mac's lap and started to purr. It was melodic and soothing.
Dick leaned over to give Fritz a pat on his head, before murmuring he'd be back. Mac watched him walk over to 'Mom1' and whisper something in her ear. She shut her eyes after that, leaning her head back against the couch. She would not have thought there would have been time to have fallen asleep, but the next thing she remembered was 'Mom2'nudging her awake. The moms were flanking her on either side of the loveseat. 'Mom1' handed her one of her prescription headache pain pills that she always kept on hand for emergencies, while 'Mom2' handed her a glass of water. She mumbled a thank you before once again shutting her eyes. It was so embarrassing. There was nothing worse in her mind than being the center of attention, she was the opposite of drama queen Madison, who would've been crying and carrying on had the roles been reversed.
Once the mom squad was done tending to Mac's headache, Dick took back his spot on the couch.
"Feeling better?" He murmured in her ear, as he once again put his arm around her shoulders.
"A little," Mac said. "I really thought I would have stopped having so many headaches by now. I just feel so broken, like I'll never totally be put back together again. It's humiliating." She leaned her head back and draped an arm over her eyes, blocking the room from her view.
"Put back together again?" Dick echoed. "Do you mean in a Humpty Dumpty sort of way?"
"Something like that, yeah." Mac admitted, dropping her arm. She absently started stroking Fritz's soft fur.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mackie. From where I'm sitting, you're already back on that wall! You're probably the least broken broken person I've ever met." Dick said incredulously.
"Least broken broken person? Is that even a thing?" Mac inquired. She glanced over at Dick.
"Why shouldn't there be? And if that term doesn't exist yet, we've just invented it now." Dick shrugged. "I mean we're all broken, to a certain extent. I definitely am. Logan is. Veronica, too. But you, you are the most put together broken person I've ever met." He paused briefly, let out a big sigh, before continuing. "I'm not sure that being broken is necessarily a bad thing. To me, not that I know anything, it just means we've all had plenty of shit kicked our way, and somehow, we survived it. We're still carrying on. Or somewhat, at least."
"That's one way to look at it," Mac said after a brief pause. She continued petting Fritz. It was calming.
"Hey, what can I say, I'm more than just a pretty face," Dick said, trying, and failing, to say it without grinning. It was his new mantra.
Mac started to shake her head, and then thought better of it, so she settled for rolling her eyes but couldn't help the smile that pushed forth. "I'm done with thinking too hard, for now at least. I think that's what gave me this headache to begin with."
They sat there a few more minutes, letting the silence spread out, the only sound was the cat's purrs. Slowly her headache receded enough that the thought of food didn't kick up nausea.
A few minutes later Lucille announced that dinner was ready.
Two tables had been set up to accommodate the large crowd. The main table was in the formal dining room, the adjacent living room held a second table, which was almost as big as the main one. Mac estimated there were over 25 people spread out between all the Sinclair and Mackenzie branches.
In typical 'Mom2' style, place cards were tented above each plate. Every name was written in calligraphy. Mac and Dick found their place settings at the main table. 'Mom2' had hauled out her best China, in a fleur de lis pattern. The water glasses were cut crystal and probably weighed a pound each.
Lauren had been seated on her other side, with Ryan on Lauren's left side. Unfortunately, Madison was directly across from her, in easy glaring distance. 'Mom1' and 'Dad1' were flanking her on either side. 'Mom2' and 'Dad2,' of course, were both at their respective head of the table positions. The remaining seats were rounded out by Tara, her parents, Grandma and Grandpa Cole, the Grandma Franklin. The rest of the extended families, including sundry Mackenzie cousins, had been relegated to the table in the other room.
Giant serving platters heaped with food took residence in the center of the massive dining table, competing for space with three equally distanced bouquets of flowers, in autumn colors including orange roses, red roses, and yellow lilies. The vases were carved out white pumpkin shells. Holly and ivy garland weaved around the flowers and serving dishes, with pinecones scattered in between like confetti.
Mac was pleased to see a Tofurkey roast parked in front of her. She was certain she was the only token vegan among them. Though the Sinclairs didn't seem as strictly carnivorous as the Mackenzies, she knew they were meat eaters as well. She caught Dick eyeing the turkey platter; she was surprised there wasn't a trail of drool down his chin.
"I dare you to try some Tofurkey," Mac whispered in his ear.
"I'd love to, but I'm allergic to fake meat," Dick replied, in his normal speaking voice.
"You're just chicken."
"I call fowl!" Dick corrected. "It's against the bylaws to call someone chicken on Turkey Day. That's mixing genres."
Lauren, who evidently had been listening in on the conversation, groaned. "Technically, it's only mixing poultry. But you know what should be against the bylaws, bad puns! I should have you kicked out for that."
"I agree! Great minds think alike," Mac replied, lifting her water glass, and clinking it on Lauren's glass right next to hers. The cups were so heavy it was more of a clunk, however.
"Before we start filling our plates with this delicious food," 'Mom2' was saying, "let's pray. We thank thee, our lord and savior, for every earthly good, for life and health and family, and for our daily food. Amen." Mac noticed 'Mom2's gaze landing on her as she thanked God for their health and family.
Everyone echoed the Amen, and then started passing the food in a counterclockwise direction. Mac took a couple pieces of the Tofurkey roast, and passed it to Dick, on her right. She watched him pass it along to her cousin, Tara, who also took a slice. When someone handed the turkey platter to Mac, she held her breath as she passed it to Dick. She watched him take several slices. Each side dish that was handed to Mac, 'Mom2' let her know whether it was vegan safe, or not. When her mom's ('Mom1') ceramic pumpkin dish came by, she took two big scoops of Waldorf salad. The bright orange of the whimsical bowl stood out among the sea of Mom2's China platters and tureens.
At last, everyone's plates were full, and the serious business of eating got underway. For several minutes conversation consisted of asking for salt and please pass the turkey, or corn pudding. However, as soon as more food had been consumed, and the serving plates made their second, and then third trip around the table, the conversation reigns expanded to politics and Thanksgiving sports matchups.
Lauren placed her hands over her ears in protest of the political agenda. She leaned over to Mac and whispered how that was always her least favorite of the Sinclair traditions.
"Consider yourself lucky that your Thanksgiving table talk doesn't center around the best NASCAR tracks." Mac countered.
"No, I guess that doesn't sound any better," Lauren agreed. "Do you think this might be our new tradition?"
"A combined family Thanksgiving?" Mac clarified.
"Yes."
"Maybe?" Mac shrugged, then scooped up a big bite of Waldorf salad. "Probably."
"I hope so."
"Me, too," Ryan interjected. "Lucy's an awesome cook. She could give mom some pointers." He shoveled in a big bite of turkey, with mashed potatoes and stuffing. Mac was surprised that he didn't drip any of the gravy down his chin.
"I heard that, young man," 'Mom1' said from the other side the table. Her voice was stern. She shook a finger at him.
Mac laughed at the evil eye her mom was shooting her brother. Dick was smirking as he mouthed to him that he was in trouble.
Mac watched Madison push food around her plate. It didn't look like she'd ate much of anything. She seemed annoyed at Ryan's joke about having all future Thanksgiving dinners at the Sinclair estate. Mac also suspected there was green tinged jealousy about Dick at play, as well. She doubted Madison had been harboring any rekindling fantasies but sharing with others was never that girl's strong suit.
It made her sad that while she was getting closer to Lauren, Madison still hardly made any attempts to get to know Ryan. They'd talked a few times at the family dinners, but it never seemed to occur to her to go toss the football with him at the park, or even watch one of his games. Fortunately, none of that seemed to phase her happy-go-lucky—and pesty—baby brother. That was what really mattered in the grand scheme of things, but years of practice being his older sister still stirred up her protective feelings.
They were two months into this new normal—a phrase she detested more and more as time went on—and all she saw in Madison was the spoiled brat she'd known since kindergarten. She thought family upheavals were supposed to make people softer, more compassionate, even ice queens were supposed to thaw out, shave off a layer of frost.
"Look at all this food remaining," 'Mom2' was saying as her guests were eating the last remaining crumbs on their plates. "There's enough for everyone to have leftovers for lunch tomorrow."
"That's great, mom," Madison said. "I was just thinking how much Mac must love scraps, considering she's always taking my leftovers."
Mac took a deep breath. There were always two choices when dealing with prototype bitches like Madison, rise above or sink down to their level. Going low was more fun, but she chose to rise above. "I've heard homeless and/or battered women's shelters take food donations." She said before anyone could chide Madison for her manners breach. "I'll bet they appreciate leftovers even more than I do," she added, unable to resist directing a dig towards her pseudo stepsister.
After a quick, but pointed look, in Madison's direction, 'Mom2' smiled at Mac. "What a wonderful idea, dear."
"Suck up!" Madison whispered but being that it was more of a stage whisper, those sound waves were easily transmitted across the dining table. She pointed to her nose, as she glared at Mac.
"I'm assuming I'm the leftover in that equation," Dick said. "However, from my perspective it's more like I dated the rough draft in high school, and found it lacking in substance, so now I'm dating the first edition."
Mac wasn't sure what she appreciated more, Dick sticking up for her, or his use of literary analogy. It had the inherent bonus of knocking Madison down a peg, too. That was always gratifying to see.
Before anything else could be said about Mac's love of leftovers, pastries stole the spotlight. Lucy pushed the dessert cart into the room, it was overflowing with pies, cookies, cakes, and brownies. She stationed it in the corner of the large room. 'Mom2' invited everyone to help themselves buffet style.
Mac smiled as Dick made his way to the dessert station. He grabbed a big plate and proceeded to take a small piece of every kind of pie. There was still a lot of real estate left on the plate, so he turned his attention to the cookies after that. He ended up with a small mountain of just one type of cookie, it was probably some kind of sugar cookie. Mac couldn't really tell from her vantage point.
"Don't forget we're going to Wallace's house for dessert," Mac reminded Dick as he sat back down at the table.
"I'll find room for Alicia's pie somewhere, don't worry about me. There's plenty of time to digest before we start over again," he assured her. "Besides, this isn't all for me." He placed the stack of cookies in front of her. "The sign says they're vegan Cinna melts."
"Thanks," Mac murmured. Cinna melts were her favorite kind of cookie, her mom used to make them on a weekly basis for lunch time treats. They reminded her of snickerdoodles. She took a bite of the soft cookie.
As everyone was eating dessert, Lucille came around with coffee.
Mac poured a liberal amount of soy milk into her coffee, turning it caramel colored. She noticed 'Dad2' doing the same thing on his end of the table, only he was using real cream. For almost 6 years she'd been playing the DNA guessing game with herself. Which Sinclair did X trait come from? What about trait Y? There were no winners in that game, and most of the time she was the only loser.
Mac abruptly jumped off that thought train when she caught some movement down at Mom2's end of the table. The moms had traded baby albums and were gushing over how beautiful she and Madison were as babies. One of the biggest lingering questions she'd lived with was how both moms could fail to notice they had taken the wrong baby home. She only recently learned that same question had been haunting 'Mom1' for years, however, not wanting to add to her mom's guilt load, she didn't share the fact that same gnawing, snarling question also lived in her own heart. Maybe she could finally shut down that nagging inner voice.
Mac got up out of her chair, pulling Dick with her. "Picture time."
"Babies all look like aliens, with those pointy heads." Dick was saying.
"Pointy heads? You mean like Cone Heads from that Saturday Night Live movie?"
"Yes," Dick confirmed. "Babies are just a bunch of cone-headed alien creatures."
"Not our girls," 'Mom2' cut in. "They were perfect. Maybe you looked like an alien, Dick, but Madison and Cindy did not."
"Look at that perfectly round little head," 'Mom1' said, pointing to a picture of a sleeping baby with dark hair, a tiny button nose. Mac presumed it was herself.
Mom1's next comment confirmed it. "Cindy was lovely. This was taken the day after we took her home." Her tone was wistful.
"Nope, no cone head," Mac reiterated, handing the well-worn picture to Dick. He shrugged, and she took that as agreement.
"And this is Maddie's first picture in her new home," 'Mom2' replied, handing off an equally creased and battered picture of another tiny, dark haired swaddled baby girl. Mac intercepting it before it reached her mom's outstretched hand.
How many tears had rained down upon their newborn pictures through the years?
There were differences, like Madison didn't have as much hair, and it was thinner on top. Her own nose was narrower, eyes weren't spaced out as far, but it took some intense scrutiny to even see those minor discrepancies. She didn't know what kind of evidence she was expecting, but the pictures didn't really crystalize anything in her mind. Her lack of poker face gave away her falling mood. She didn't exactly think the switch was some top-down conspiracy but calling such a much major black boundary line in her life a "mistake," had always seemed akin to calling the Grand Canyon a little hole in the ground. However, now, having seen baby pictures of herself and Madison, it made the whole situation more plausible. The switch was born in a moment of inattentiveness, but there weren't any striking differences between them, at least not in those early hours of their births, it really was just an honest mistake. A terrible mistake, but a mistake, an error, nonetheless.
Mac fervently wished that the picture swap would absolve both moms from the guilt they carried like a limb, like an extension of themselves, but it was probably too metastasized, too systemic by now to make any difference. She felt bad that she'd never stopped to think of the guilt the moms must have felt from day one. She'd lived with the ache of knowing she was raised in the wrong family for almost five years now, and last night (early this morning?) was the first glimpse 'Mom1' had ever given her into the scars she herself carried.
"The only cone head I see here is Madison," Dick whispered in her ear, before giving it a teasing nip. "I always knew she was an alien." She flashed him a grateful smile for sensing when she needed cheering up.
Mac passed the beat-up picture to Mom1's still outstretched hand.
"Madison was lovely, too," 'Mom1,' said. "She's got the Franklin chin." She softly stroked the picture.
The moms started comparing notes on all the signs they ignored in those early months, and Mac couldn't listen to another word. Not with her own world on tilt. Without another word to the moms, who had probably forgotten she was there anyway, she turned around and left the dining room. The rest of the dinner guests had scattered from the table since dinner was over, and they were dispersed around the expansive first floor of the Sinclair house. She looked around for Lauren but didn't see her anywhere.
Not committing to a particular destination, Mac wandered around until she ended up in the family room. Due to the new tradition of bimonthly "family dinners," and the mental map of her coma dreamland, she was much more intimately familiar with the layout of the Sinclair house than she'd ever have dreamed of back in high school. Dick caught up to her and grabbed her hand. He nudged her over to the large, beige L-shaped sofa dominating the room.
"Is this the wrong time to tell you about all the times I made out with Madison on this couch? Oh, did I say that out loud?"
"I knew I should have taken V up on her generous offer to lend me her beloved taser! Oh, did I say that out loud?" Mac parroted.
"I'm just trying to distract you," Dick defended. "Besides, I know how much you like leftovers." He smirked, like he had a check in the victory column for that comment.
"It seems like I keep hearing that rumor today, but I don't really know how it got started."
"It was inspired by my man meat, I think."
"Reason number 973 why I'm glad I'm vegan. If you ever want your man meat played with again, never say that again." She really wasn't joking.
Just then a noise at the doorway fractured Mac's attention. It was a gagging noise.
"Don't mind me, I just threw up in my mouth," a whiny voice cut in. Madison Sinclair, someone she just couldn't escape from in any dimension.
"Did you come in here to get away from the picture swapping, too?" Mac asked.
"That was my original intent, but I'll just dig myself a new foxhole if you two are just going to continue your little foreplay."
"We've exhausted that subject anyway. It's your house, no need to leave the room."
"For now," Madison muttered. She entered the room, posture hunched in. She sat down on the couch as far away from Mac and Dick as was geographically possible.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Mac snapped.
"What's what supposed to mean?"
Mac rolled her eyes. "What did you mean about this being your house for now?"
"Okay, if you insist. What I meant is, is this a get rich quick scheme for you? Did you realize you might have to get a job after college and thought this might be your meal ticket?" Madison's voice had lost the whiny edge and went straight to ice coated. Her anger and jealousy bled out.
"There it is, don't hold back! I know you've been dying to ask me that. I heard you talking to Lauren the last time I was here." Mac was sure her tone matched Madison's icy glaze. She sneaked a peak at Dick, he was silent, but his face was getting red. He put a supportive arm around her.
"Your timing is suspicious, you and your family."
"I think you mean your blood family." Mac corrected. She was surprised that she didn't turn to stone from the look Madison rewarded her with for that comment. "How much longer are you going to go around casting me as the villain?"
"Forever?"
Mac noticed her response was said as a question, not a statement of fact. "Forever. That's a long time, Madison."
"We're young," she snapped. "There's plenty of time."
"I don't really care if you believe me, or not, but I was just as blindsided by the timing of all this as you are. I'm finally happy with the life I have now, but it's been nice getting some answers to the question of why I am who I am. I'm happy for you that you've never lived with those nagging questions of where you came from, because I have, every single day since I was like 2 years old. I always knew, on some level, I wasn't a Mackenzie by DNA."
"Who said I never wondered about where I came from?"
"You! You've said that thousands of times." Mac bit off.
"Oh. Well, I didn't wonder per se." Madison back peddled. Her tone was devoid of emotion. "But, of course, on the other hand, I've also noticed I don't look like the rest of my family. I'm not stupid, or anything."
Mac looked over at Dick and saw he was opening his mouth to say something, so she laid a warning hand on his arm, but apparently, he didn't get her message because he followed that with "Well, actually…" but he wasn't able to get any more out of his mouth before Mac slapped a hand over his mouth. She quickly removed it but shot him a warning look to really sell it. He gave her a mock salute. She might have agreed with what he was about to say concerning Madison's intelligence, but further antagonizing her wouldn't help anything.
"But then I dismissed those thoughts just as quickly," Madison continued, ignoring Dick completely. "It didn't necessarily mean anything. I could have looked more like some long dead relative, whatever."
"I always knew I wasn't a Mackenzie. I looked different, thought different…I just was different." Mac admitted. "I never could get my inner voice to shut up. I knew deep down that I was adopted. I had to be, there just wasn't any other explanation, or not one I could think of."
"That's the difference between you and me."
"It's just one of many, Madison." Mac sighed.
"No kidding," Dick muttered under his breath. "That's the understatement of the year."
"More like century," Mac interjected. She paused, then added "what did you mean by our timing was suspicious?"
"Why now? Daddy's company has been doing so well lately, it's been growing a lot lately. I don't see that as a coincidence," Madison clarified.
"Did you forget whose idea the brunch was in the first place?" Mac pointed out. She was about to elaborate when her focus was splintered.
"Madison!" A new voice cut in. Mac looked over her shoulder, and saw Lauren framed in the doorway. "What the hell did we just talk about this morning?"
Mac would've thought she was imagining things, but she could have sworn Madison looked embarrassed. She knew it was at getting caught by Lauren, and not about what she'd been saying.
"Where did you disappear to, sis?" Madison said, ignoring the admonishment. "I looked for you before I came in here to hide out. I won't even tell you what I interrupted in here."
"Dick and I were just talking," Mac said, hoping to shut down any untoward implications. "Where did you run off to? You missed the moms looking over our baby albums."
"Oh darn! Sorry I missed it," Lauren snarked, snapping her fingers. "I went up to my room to call Kyle. I wanted to make sure he survived the Kane's Thanksgiving Extravaganza. That's what the invitation called it. Pretentious much?" Ever the peace maker, Lauren came around to the couch and chose a spot almost exactly between Mac and Madison.
"Was it embossed in gold thread?" Dick teased.
"24 Karat!"
"I think Celeste Kane's middle name is Pretentious," Mac teased. "So, did Kyle survive?"
"Yes, for now. It's still going strong though, so that's subject to change."
"My best friend used to date Duncan Kane; this was in high school though. She was also best friends with Lily, before she was murdered." Mac's voice tremored a little at the last bit. She cleared her throat and continued, "I've heard stories, lots and lots of stories, about parties at the Kane estate."
"Veronica Mars!" Madison snapped, the weight and volume of her hatred layered in her voice. She huffed a sigh.
She could practically hear Madison's eye roll. "Yes, that's right," Mac affirmed.
"The beta Brittany," Lauren added, alluding to the conversation they'd had a couple of months ago where they compared the detective skills of their respective best friends. "I can't wait to meet her."
"The flagship edition actually," Mac corrected. "She's awesome, you'll love her, Lauren."
"I'm sure I will." Lauren said, with a confident edge.
"As much as I love talking about how awesome the great Veronica Mars is, I think I'll check to see if it's safe to go back to the dining room. How long can it take to go through a couple photo albums?" Madison said, with an accompanying sour expression on her face.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Dick called out to Madison's retreating figure.
"Good thing we removed the door," Lauren joked. "It could get dangerous."
"Yeah, it might mess up her nose job," Dick whispered to Mac.
She tried not to laugh, but one little snort escaped. She suspected Lauren might have heard that comment too, based on the way she bit her lip, as she scooted next to Mac and Dick.
"Hey, I wanted to let you know I started watching One Piece," Lauren announced.
"What?" Dick inquired.
"Great! So, did you like it?" Mac enthused. "A pirate anime," she explained to Dick, upon seeing the confused expression on his countenance.
"Oh, a pirate for a Neptune pirate, how original." Dick teased.
"It's pretty good, so far at least. Your book, movie, and TV show recs haven't let me down yet," Lauren admitted. "Maybe I'll get Kyle to watch it with me."
"And I'll get Dick to watch it with me," Mac promised. "Trust me," she added upon seeing Dick's skeptical expression.
"Always," Dick promised. He leaned over and kissed her.
Mac quickly, but reluctantly, ended the kiss since they had an audience, even if it was just one additional person. "What, no comment?"
"Get a room. Does that work?" Lauren stated. She smiled, showcasing her one dimple that was identical to Mac's.
The three of them continued to chat in their hide-away while the moms finished their reminiscing of Mac's and Madison's babyhood. Spending time with Lauren, and Dick, was the best part of the entire day, but it was a relief when the festivities were finally over, and 'Dad1' rounded everyone up and out to the Mackenzie's battered old van. She'd survived her first Mackenzie-Sinclair Thanksgiving.
TBC…
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