Chapter 2 - The First-Class Escape
The next morning, the heavy silence in the house was absolutely deafening.
I woke up early, dressed in a chic, comfortable linen suit, and rolled my designer luggage toward the front door.
Kevin was sitting alone on the living room sofa, holding his head in his hands.
Tiffany was nowhere to be seen, likely hiding in their bedroom to avoid facing reality.
"Mom, please, let's talk about this rationally," Kevin pleaded as I walked past him.
"We have talked enough, Kevin," I replied without breaking my stride.
"Tiffany has been crying all night, and we checked catering prices, but everyone is completely booked or charging ten thousand dollars!" he said desperately.
"That sounds like a wonderful opportunity for her to practice her culinary skills," I smiled politely.
The private luxury car I had hired honked softly from the circular driveway outside.
"My ride is here," I announced, grabbing the handle of the front door.
"Have a merry Christmas, Kevin, and do not forget to take the turkey out to thaw."
I stepped out into the warm, bright South Florida sunshine and never looked back.
When I arrived at the international airport, I was immediately escorted into the exclusive first-class lounge.
A handsome waiter handed me a crystal flute of chilled vintage champagne.
I took a sip of the bubbling wine, closed my eyes, and felt the heavy weight of the past five years completely lift from my shoulders.
Meanwhile, back at my house, a terrifying reality was beginning to set in for my daughter-in-law.
Tiffany stood in the center of the massive kitchen, surrounded by twenty-five empty dinner plates and a completely bare refrigerator.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly with text messages from her demanding mother, aunts, and cousins who were currently boarding their flights.
"Are the guest rooms ready, Tiff? Make sure the sheets are Egyptian cotton!" read one text from her sister.
Tiffany threw her phone onto the counter and let out a loud, frustrated scream.
She opened the massive freezer, pulling out a solid, rock-hard twenty-pound turkey that I had left behind.
She dropped it onto the floor, realizing she had absolutely no idea how to thaw it, prepare it, or cook it.
For years, she had taken all the credit on Instagram for my beautiful, painstaking holiday presentations.
Now, the entire curtain was about to be pulled back, and her family was going to see the ugly truth.
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As my plane soared over the sparkling Atlantic Ocean, I ordered a second glass of champagne.
The greatest show of the year was about to begin in my kitchen, and I was thrilled to be missing it entirely.
