“Precision doesn’t matter when you’re just cooking for the family you neglect.”

I closed my eyes, counting to three, picturing the calm blue of an operating room. “Barbara, I’ve been awake for thirty-six hours. I just saved a child from permanent paralysis.

I’m doing my best.”

David sighed without looking up from his phone and took a slow sip of the $200 scotch I’d bought him for his birthday. “Let Mom handle it, Maya. You’re out of your element here.

Just don’t mess up the turkey. It’s literally the one thing you were assigned today.”

A cold knot pulled tight in my stomach. I wiped my hands on my apron and went to check the twenty-pound bird. I’d set the meat thermometer before I left for the hospital that morning.