Previously…
– Rosie and Travis had it out after she overheard him talking with Conrad about the possibility that Rosie had been the one to kill Loretta. After suffering a moment of light-headedness, Rosie asked Travis to move out of her family’s home for the time being, so he went to stay with Tim and Claire.
– Spencer was determined to make sure that Travis pays for Loretta’s murder.
– In private, Sophie referred to herself as “Shannon” and contemplated the various threats she had executed against Sabrina: the arson of her apartment, the slashed-up skating dress, and the defaced photograph.

Thick raindrops pummel the rooftop and tap on the windows of Jason Fisher‘s home as he ascends the stairs. He stops outside his daughter’s bedroom door, listens for a moment, and then knocks.

“Sophie?” he calls out after several seconds pass with no response. Then, carefully, he turns the knob and opens the door just a crack.

“Soph,” he says as he spots his teenage daughter lying in bed, twisted up in the bedsheets. Posters of Billie Eilish and the Netflix series Stranger Things decorate the walls of Sophie’s bedroom.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jason asks as the teen stirs and her eyes flutter open.

“Yeah…” She glances around. “What time is it?”

“Almost 11. We’re supposed to go over to your grandma‘s in a few hours. Thought you might want to get up and showered.”

She pulls herself to an upright position, hands pressed against the mattress. “We’re going to Grandma’s?”

“Yeah… for Thanksgiving dinner,” Jason says, now confused. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Yeah.” Sophie’s dark hair hangs loose around her face. She stares out the bedroom window; the half-open blinds reveal glimpses of the gray day and downpour outside. “Just out of it.”

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“Maybe. Yeah.” She rubs her eyes. “I’ll get up and get ready.”

“Don’t fall back asleep again,” he warns.

She swings her legs over the side of the bed, as if proving that she is committed to waking up. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay. And happy Thanksgiving,” Jason says before exiting the room.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Sophie says. She remains on the edge of the bed, trying to get her bearings. The past few days seem like a blur. She has faint memories — or at least visions — of being at school, being in the car, eating breakfast and dinner. But it’s all hazy, as if she is watching a movie shot on a very old iPhone or something.

“Why am I so out of it?” she murmurs as she shakes her head, hoping for clarity.

—–

An anxious rhythm pounds in Travis Fisher‘s chest as he stands outside the quaint green house. Raindrops tumble onto his dark blue Columbia rain jacket. Finally, the door opens, revealing Sebastian Jimenez.

“Hey,” Travis says to his brother-in-law. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Travis,” Sebastian replies with more than a note of skepticism in his voice.

“Is Rosie home?”

Sebastian tilts his head. “She went to run an errand. I don’t know when she’ll be back.”

“I can wait.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“I just… I want to check in with her. Make sure she’s okay.”

“Travis, her husband is facing murder charges and has his team trying to pin the crime on her instead,” Sebastian says. “I don’t think she’s okay.”

“My lawyer is the one who wants to leave no stone unturned. I’m not trying to pin anything on Rosie.”

Sebastian frowns. “For the record, Rosie was with me in Seattle that entire night. I’ll testify if you need me to.”

“I believe you,” Travis says, feeling a painful sting of regret deep in his chest. “And I believe Rosie. It was never my intention to accuse her of anything.”

Several seconds pass. The rain’s patter against the pavement and the house continues.

“Please tell her that I stopped by,” Travis continues.

“I will. But I think she needs space for now. Have a happy Thanksgiving, okay?”

“You, too.”

Sebastian closes the door, and Travis cannot help but feel that he’s being sealed out of the Jimenez family entirely.

“A lot to be grateful for this year,” he mutters as he reluctantly walks back to his car.

—–

The scene inside J&M Supermarket is surprisingly subdued, considering that it is Thanksgiving morning. As Rosie Jimenez moves through the aisles, she wonders if most of the rush happened yesterday; nevertheless, she is thankful to be able to move through the store quickly and without a slew of eyes upon her. She turns into an aisle lined with toiletries and health products, and she traces her way down one side of it until she finds what she is looking for. As she picks up a box and flips it over to read the back, she hears a voice calling out:

“Rosie?”

With a start, Rosie turns. She shoves the small box into the pocket of her coat and takes a few steps down the aisle toward Samantha Fisher, who is approaching tentatively with a shopping basket in hand.

“Sam. Hey,” Rosie says. “How are you?”

“I’m doing well.”

“That’s really great to hear. We were so scared after you had those complications.”

“I’m okay,” her sister-in-law assures her.

“And TJ? He’s still doing all right?”

“The doctors are really happy with his progress so far,” Samantha says. “Are you doing last-minute Thanksgiving shopping, too?”

Rosie shrugs, trying hard to conceal how jumpy she feels. “My mom needs a few odds and ends, yeah. I didn’t mind the chance to get out of the house. How about you?”

“Dinner rolls and whipped cream. Talk about odds and ends.”

An unspoken tension presses down upon both of them. Finally Samantha is the one to take hold of the uneasy silence:

“We’ll miss you at my grandma’s house this year. I hope you know we’re all pulling for you and Travis to work things out.”

“I’m pulling for that, too,” Rosie admits, bowing her head sadly. “But so much has happened.”

“Have faith and give it some time. I at least hope you guys can have some open communication once everything cools off a little.”

Rosie offers a wan smile. “Happy Thanksgiving, Samantha.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Samantha says before she continues down the aisle.

Rosie watches as the other woman disappears around the corner. Only then does she pull the item out of her pocket and stare at it, still in disbelief that she has to worry about this right now, of all times. But at least Samantha didn’t seem to pick up on what Rosie was buying.

She shoves the home pregnancy test back in her pocket and beelines for the self-checkout lane.

—–

A scattering of half-assembled Lego creations sits on the rectangular travertine coffee table in Spencer Ragan‘s living room. Peter Ragan stands before his audience, clutching a large, surprisingly complex dinosaur made of the blocks.

“And look at this one! It’s a Spinosaurus!” he proclaims excitedly. “I built the sail and everything.”

“That’s impressive,” Claire Fisher tells her grandson. “Lego sets have gotten a lot more detailed since our kids were young.”

“It’s crazy how intricate some of them are,” Spencer agrees from his seat on the piano bench.

“So what comes next? Does he have dinosaur pals?” Tim Fisher asks.

Peter casts a knowing look toward his father. “If Santa brings me what I’m asking him for… then he will.”

Spencer grins. “Then remember that Santa’s going to be watching your behavior and your schoolwork very closely for the next month.”

The little boy nods eagerly. “Can I have one of those cookies?”

His father considers this for a brief moment, then relents with a shrug,. “Why not? It’s a holiday.”

Peter darts off toward the kitchen. The three adults share a chuckle at his exaggerated movements and enthusiasm.

“We should get going soon,” Tim says. “We’ve got the scalloped potatoes all prepped, but we need to cook them before we head over to your grandmother’s.”

The mention of the Fisher family gathering casts a dark pall over the room.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us all?” Claire asks Spencer.

“Not if Travis is going to be there.”

Claire sighs with frustration, though she refrains from arguing with him.

“I don’t think anyone wants broken dishes or overturned tables,” Spencer says. “So it’s for the best. Besides, Natalie should be back from picking up her mom at the airport soon, and she already ordered one of those pre-made feasts from Windmills. We’ll have a quiet Thanksgiving.”

“We wish we could spend it with you and Peter,” Tim says. “There’s always room at Paula Fisher’s table.”

“Not this year.” Spencer shakes his head. “Nothing against you guys, or Paula, but the vibes would be incredibly off.”

As Peter comes thundering back into the room, they all go quiet.

“I got two!” he declares.

“I’ll allow it,” Spencer says, “but only because it’s Thanksgiving.”

“That’s a good enough reason,” Claire says, doing her best to be cheerful despite the lingering unpleasantness in the family.

—–

In the kitchen of the Fisher home, Matt Gray chops vegetables alongside Paula, who is heating some vegetable stock on the stove. Matt watches as she stirs the simmering stock, then pauses and stares distantly at the tiled backsplash.

“Everything okay?” he asks his mother-in-law.

Paula breathes out slowly. “Thanksgiving always feels so strange, even all these years later.”

“There are times I expect Bill to come through that door and give us all our marching orders for the day,” Matt says with a laugh.

“He loved Thanksgiving,” Paula says. “All holidays, really. Any day that was a reason to gather the entire family.”

“He’d be proud of the way you’ve carried on the tradition.”

She sighs and resumes stirring the stock. “He’d be proud of you, too. Running a restaurant named after him just as efficiently and graciously as Bill always aimed to do.”

Matt leans on the counter, his palms pressed on the stone. “We should’ve had so much more time with him. The way that he sacrificed himself to save Tori–“

“I just wish someone had been able to stop that evil Philip Ragan before it was too late.”

“I think Bill would be happy to know that Tori was saved and made a full recovery, and we’re all here together to celebrate another holiday.”

“You know, I still hear his voice sometimes,” Paula says.

“He was your husband. The love of your life. Of course you do.”

Her expression swells with gratitude. “Thank you and Sarah for taking such good care of me since he passed. Not being alone in this house — having it full of love and chaos and everything else — it keeps me going.”

“It’s our pleasure, ” Matt says before another laugh ripples out of him. “And we have one hell of a meal to pull off before this house is even fuller in a few hours.”

“Yes, we do,” she says, and they return to work, listening to the soundtrack of the rain outside as they cook.

END OF EPISODE 1281

Will the Fishers have a peaceful Thanksgiving?
Could Rosie really be pregnant at a time like this?
Can Sophie figure out what she’s been up to?
Discuss all this and more in the comments below!

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