Chapter 14
Back home, the kitchen looked like a disaster zone. Flour was dusted across the wooden countertops like a light snowfall, apple peels were scattered across the cutting boards, and the first attempt at rolling out the pie crust had ended in a jagged, torn mess that looked more like a map of a broken continent than pastry dough.
Clara stood at the counter with flour smudged across her cheek and apron, staring down at the ruined dough with a mixture of frustration and laughter. Mark was standing beside her, holding a rolling pin with a bewildered expression, while Elena washed dishes in the sink, humming quietly to herself as soapy water splashed over the edges.
"Okay, officially," Clara laughed, throwing her hands up in defeat, "that is the ugliest pie crust in the history of baking. If Mom walked in right now, she would probably revoke my daughter status on the spot."
David walked in carrying a tray of sliced apples, smiling as he looked at the messy kitchen. "You know what, though? It smells amazing in here. For the first time all week, this house actually smells like a home instead of a hotel lobby."
"Because we made it," Elena said, turning around and wiping her hands on a dish towel. She looked down at the plaid dish towel in her hand, then up at David and Clara. "We didn't rely on anyone else to manage our holiday. We made mistakes, we argued over how many apples to put in, and we’re figuring it out as we go."
"Do you think she’s okay?" Clara asked suddenly, her laughter fading into a quieter, more vulnerable tone. She looked toward the hallway leading to Margaret’s empty bedroom. "It’s been almost forty-eight hours since she left. We haven't called her, and she hasn't called us."
"She’s fine, Clara," David said softly, stepping over and putting a comforting arm around his sister’s shoulders. "She’s doing exactly what she needed to do. Sometimes you have to step away from the table to remember why you wanted to sit at it in the first place."
"Do you think she’ll come back?" the younger boy asked, wandering into the kitchen and looking up at his uncle with wide, serious eyes.
May you like
Elena walked over, kneeling down to be at eye level with the boy. She smiled gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Yes, sweetie. I think she will. But when she comes back, things are going to be different. We’re going to listen to her, we’re going to help her, and we’re going to make sure she knows she’s a person, not just a host."
Clara nodded slowly, feeling a profound sense of relief wash over her. The illusion of perfection was gone, replaced by something much stronger: honesty, accountability, and the messy, beautiful reality of a family learning how to love each other correctly.
