26. The Thanksgiving

Hunter

As the weeks passed, time flew by for the newly formed trio. Logan loved having someone around who was smart, funny, and feminine that he could fuck. In contrast, Hunter had finally found a woman he could talk to and share comfortable silences with. Hunter also enjoyed the feel of Logan’s energy buzzing with excitement whenever Maxine was around.

“So, Hunter,” Mrs. Parker asked over Thanksgiving dinner. “I hear you have a girlfriend.”

Mrs. Richardson almost choked on her wine. “What? Really?”

“That’s news to us,” Mr. Richardson added, loading another baked potato onto his plate before checking his phone for the third time in ten minutes.

“What’s her name? What’s she like?” Mr. Parker asked.

“She’s okay,” he said. Almost on cue, everyone glanced at Logan, expecting him to provide an answer.

Logan laughed. “What? Why are you all looking at me? She’s his girlfriend.”

“Do you like her?” Stacy asked Logan and glanced at Hunter, who looked at his empty plate.

“Me? Uh, yeah. Maxine is cool.”

“Ah, Maxine? That’s a pretty name. What do her parents do?” Hunter’s mother asked.

“No idea, we don’t talk about our parents,” Hunter said with a shrug.

“Well, I’d like to meet her,” she said, putting down her fork and taking another sip of wine. “Where does she live?”

“She’s forty-five minutes from here,” Hunter said, not wanting to disclose too much information.

“She can come by tonight. That’s not a long drive at all. Logan, you have her number, don’t you? Have her come over tonight after dinner with her family. She can join us for games,” Mrs. Parker said.

Hunter shook his head. “No, no way.”

“Holy shit, she’s so pretty!” Stacy gawked at her phone and then showed it to her father.

“She’s uh—stunning.” He nodded in agreement.

“She’s not even on social media,” Logan said, confused. “No way you found her.”

“I want to see.” Hunter’s mother stood up in a hurry and walked around the table to hover over Stacy’s phone. “Oh.” Her mouth dropped. She couldn’t hide her surprise. She took the phone and handed it to Mr. Richardson.

“She’s Black?!” he asked a little too loudly. Everyone was silent for a moment. “What? I mean, there is nothing wrong with that. I’m just saying—wow. It wasn’t what I had pictured.”

“Jesus,” Hunter muttered under his breath.

“She’s awesome,” Logan said, in Maxine’s defense.

“I’m so happy for you, dear,” Mrs. Parker said to Hunter. “Good for you!”

“Definitely not bringing her here,” Hunter said to Logan.

“Well, why not? I want to meet her,” his mother said adamantly. “I don’t care what color she is. I’ve never met any of your girlfriends.”

“Hunter doesn’t really keep girlfriends, do you?” Stacy smirked.

“Well, you could always ask?” Logan encouraged Hunter.

“Oh, man,” Hunter shook his head as he pulled out his phone to text. “There. I texted her. She’s probably having dinner with her family today, like most people on Thanksgiving.”

“Is she one of those ‘social justice warriors’?” Mr. Richardson asked, joking in a manner only he found amusing.

“Hey!” Mrs. Parker interjected. “You’re in the house of the social justice warrior and in the presence of three powerful women!”

His wife shot him a deathly glare. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Alright, alright,” Logan tried to break the tension. “We have more important matters to discuss. Such as, Christmas break trip? Fiji, anyone?”

“Oh, shit. She’s calling,” Hunter announced, staring at his phone.

“Answer it,” Mrs. Parker screeched.

“Hello? … Hey … We’re uh, good. Just finishing up dinner—”

“Ask her if she wants to come over for dessert and games,” Mrs. Richardson whispered, and Hunter swatted at her to be quiet.

“Huh, what? … Hold on, I’m going to put you on speaker because they keep bugging me … Okay, what did you say?”

“Hi. I said it’s only two o’clock. How come you eat dinner so early?” Maxine’s voice filled the dining room.

“I don’t know. We always eat early, I guess?” Hunter shrugged.

“My mother would like you all to join us for dinner tonight. We eat at eight.”

Silence filled the room.

“Is she sure? There are a lot of us,” his mother said. “Ask her.”

“You ask her,” Hunter said, pointing the phone toward his mother.

“Hi, Maxine. Are you sure, hun? There are so many of us here.”

“Hello, I told her there were eight of you. We’re more than happy to have you over. My mother has taken it a bit far this year.”

A smile spread across Mrs. Parker’s face. “Say yes.”

“They said ‘yes’,” Hunter said.

“Great. I can’t wait to meet all of you,” Maxine said.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll text you later,” Hunter said in an abrupt manner and hung up the phone.

“Oh, she sounds so charming,” Mrs. Parker said, looking at Logan.

“She’s great,” Logan added with a big smile.

“Have either of you met her family before?” Mr. Parker asked. The pair shook their heads.

“She just texted me, ‘We get dressed up for Thanksgiving, but don’t feel like you have to,’” Hunter read aloud.

“Well, I’m going to bring some of the leftovers. It’s bad enough that we’re springing up on these poor people who were kind enough to invite us over.”

“I’m sure you don’t have to do that, Mom,” Logan said.

“Should we bring the cars? Is it a rough neighborhood? Maybe we can park at a hotel and then grab a taxi from there,” Mr. Richardson said, looking at his phone.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come,” Hunter snapped at his father.

“I’m not looking to get mugged or ‘jacked’ tonight.” He laughed, but no one joined him.

“You can’t say things like that. She’s our friend, and she’s wonderful,” Logan said in a stern tone that surprised everyone around him.

In a full SUV, it was a forty-two-minute car ride to Maxine’s house.

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Mr. Richardson asked as he looked around the snow-covered ground for a house number, trees on either side of the road.

“One thousand Windchase Lane. Yes. It should be here,” Hunter said, looking up the address on his phone. “There’s the driveway.”

Two stone pillars framed the driveway, displaying the address, 1000 Windchase Ln. They rode through the pillars and up the paved road through thick forest.

“Is this all the same property?” Stacy asked, in awe, looking out the window.

They came upon a tall metal gate with an intercom system and keypad.

“Did they rent this place out or something?” Mr. Richardson asked before rolling down the window. As he was about to press the big button next to the keypad, a distorted voice boomed over the speaker.

“Name.”

“Uh, we’re here to see Maxine. This is Hunter’s father, Thomas Richardson.”

The gate buzzed loudly before parting in the middle.

“My god, where are we?” Mr. Richardson proceeded cautiously before pulling up in front of a two-way barrier security post with two men in black suits standing at either side.

A large man stepped out of the tiny post. “Good evening. Identification, please. I will need the identification of all members of your party in the vehicle.”

“What? What is this for?”

“It’s required, sir. We have more guests arriving, if you could, please,” the man said, readying his flashlight.

“Alright, licenses, everyone,” Mr. Richardson announced, and everyone quickly passed their IDs forward after scrambling to find them.

The man ruffled through the I.D.s and checked names off a list. After a thorough inspection of the trunk of the SUV, the SUV was allowed to proceed onto the property.

“Hunter, what’s Maxine’s last name?” Mrs. Parker asked as they pulled up the paved circular driveway of the majestic, white mansion.

“Powell.”

“What?! The Powells? Senator Powell?” Mrs. Richardson looked back at Hunter, who shrugged. She pulled down the front mirror and fixed her hair and makeup. “This is a black-tie gala. Not a casual family dinner.”

“Did you know she was Garrison Powell’s daughter?” Mr. Parker asked Logan, who shook his head.

“Shit. We had no idea,” Logan said, watching people in tuxedos and evening gowns escorted through the front door.

We’re here, Hunter texted Maxine. She responded with a smiling emoji.

The two families stared in awe of the wealth surrounding them.

“Welcome!” an elegant woman in a burgundy evening dress greeted them once they walked through the door. She was accompanied by a man who looked to be her son. “You must be the Richardsons and the Parkers. I am Lorraine Powell. Welcome to our family home.” She gave each mother a hug and the men a firm handshake. “I’m glad you were able to accept our very last-minute invitation. You know how these children are—they don’t talk to you or tell you anything.”

“Mother.” Her son put his hand on her back, as if keeping her from becoming too candid.

“This is my son, Maxine’s brother, Councilman Scott Powell.”

He nodded politely, straightening his posture. “It’s good to meet you all.” He was tall and lean, much like Maxine.

“Please, we’ll take your coats and have someone see you to your table.”

They were at table sixteen of a big banquet hall toward the rear of the house. Part of the hall was all glass that overlooked the beautiful landscaping and a pool.

“It says online that her great-grandfather made his money in the textile industry in the late eighteen hundreds,” Stacy read off at the dinner table. “Her grandfather was a mayor and her father, Garrison Powell, served in the U.S. Congress until two years ago when his term ended and chose not to re-run. Her mother went to Harvard and then Yale Law School. But she’s no longer practicing.”

“Wow. That’s impressive,” Mr. Parker said as a server filled their glasses with water.

“Hello?” a sweet, familiar voice sounded over the loudspeakers. Everyone turned their heads toward the direction of the stage, and a smile spread across Hunter’s face. Maxine looked as radiant as ever in a shimmering, blush-colored fitted evening gown. Her hair was pulled back in a big, neat bun, and her long neck adorned with a dramatic diamond necklace. “Good evening, everyone. We’re so glad you’ve been able to join our family on this special day for Americans everywhere. Today we give thanks not only for our possessions but for our spiritual and emotional well-being. We give thanks for the precious, but limited, time we have to spend with one another—so, make it count.”

A wave of applause filled the room.

“Is that her?” Mrs. Richardson whispered to Hunter, who looked to be in a trance.

Hunter and Logan looked at each other, dumbfounded. She was unrecognizable. The Maxine they knew didn’t seem to own more than the same three or four outfits, her hair was usually worn freely down her back, and she never wore makeup.

“She looks so different,” Logan said to Hunter. Hunter’s mouth hung open.

You look beautiful,Hunter texted Maxine.

Maxine appeared at their table a few minutes later with her hands on both Hunter and Logan’s shoulders, standing between them, taking them by surprise. “Hello. I’m so glad you could all make it tonight. Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, darling, thank you for inviting us. This is just amazing,” Mrs. Parker said genuinely. “You are … stunning.”

“We’ve heard wonderful things about you,” Mrs. Richardson added. “Perfect speech.”

“Oh, thank you, you’re very kind. I really hate those things!” She smiled modestly. “I’ve been doing them since I was eight-years-old, and they never seem to get any easier.”

“You made it seem effortless!” Mrs. Richardson added.

Logan got up from his seat and pulled her into him for a tight squeeze. She wrapped her arms around his neck almost as if she’d kiss him, but didn’t. He picked her up off the floor a few inches and twirled her around. Everyone at the table looked at each other and then at Hunter, who didn’t seem to react.

“I’ve missed you too, Logan,” she squealed.

“You look beautiful,” Logan said, holding both of her hands in his.

She slowly pulled away, stood behind Hunter’s chair, and ran her hands down his shoulders, leaning in beside him, with her face next to his. “Hi,” she said, and he turned to face her.

His smile caught the attention of the table, he was sure of it. “Hi.”

She kissed him, just her lips on his. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I can make room.” He grinned and the two smiled at each other sheepishly.

Maxine’s name was heard in the distance, and she stood up immediately. “It was lovely meeting all of you. Thank you, again, for coming.” Her hand squeezed Hunter’s shoulder as she spoke.

“She is just lovely, Hunter,” Mr. Parker said. “How did you meet?”

“Logan met her first,” Hunter explained.

“Yeah, she’s my good friend. We met at the gym in the tower.”

“Oh, does she live there also?” Mrs. Richardson asked. Hunter shook his head.

“Logan would invite her over all the time. So, it was pretty gradual. It’s been hardly a month since we’ve gotten closer,” Hunter continued, more than he had ever shared willingly all at once.

“And you weren’t interested in her at all, Logan?” Mr. Richardson asked suspiciously, the only thing he had said since they sat down.

“I was actually. For a bit. But she’ll never look at me the way she looks at him.” Logan beamed, and then looked down at his glass.

“I-I don’t think so.” Hunter put his head down bashfully. “They’re both really close. They have a secret club I’m not part of.”

“We like the same nerdy things, books, movies, science—we can talk about anything.”

“Sounds like you’re both in love with her,” Stacy blurted.

“Stacy!” her mother snapped.