Previously…
– Sophie wickedly recalled executing the threats against Sabrina herself and referred to herself as “Shannon.” When Jason awoke her on Thanksgiving morning, she struggled to remember the past several days.
– When Jason questioned whether Sabrina could somehow be doing these things to herself, an offended Sabrina bristled at the accusation.
– After Samantha had a medical crisis, Tempest was shaken to realize that she had no legal right to visit her girlfriend in the hospital.
– Travis and Rosie’s marriage fractured further as he awaited trial for Loretta’s murder.

“Get on your feet! It’s the holidays!”

On the television, a performer at the Thanksgiving parade shouts to hype up the crowd, who are standing in freezing temperatures to watch the spectacle. Inside the Fisher home, a small fire crackles in the living room hearth, spreading warmth among the family members who have gathered to celebrate the holiday. Paula Fisher bustles back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, greeting each new arrival with her signature blend of genuine affection and focused efficiency.

Tempest Banks hangs by the staircase, waiting for a lull. When she is able to catch Claire Fisher‘s eye, she motions with her index finger. Claire sidles up to Tempest.

“Can I show you something?” Tempest asks under her breath.

Curious, Claire steps with her up the stairs, to the privacy of the landing on the second story. Tempest reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out a small velvet box. Claire lets out a soft gasp as Tempest opens the box, revealing a ring that catches the light: it is modern, delicate, and beautiful without being showy at all.

“Oh, Tempest. It’s beautiful. And so… Samantha’s style.”

“Yeah, she’s not big on jewelry,” Tempest agrees, before her voice curls with insecurity: “It’s not too simple, is it?”

“No,” Claire whispers, touching the edge of the box. “It’s perfect. She’s going to love it. When are you…?”

Tempest smiles through a shaky exhale, equal parts excitement and nerves. “Tonight. Most of the family is together, and after the last few months…”

Claire squeezes her arm. “It’s the right time. And the ring is gorgeous.”

Tempest snaps the box shut just as Samantha calls up the stairs: “Tempest? Are you up there?”

“We’re coming,” Claire calls over the railing, and the two women share a conspiratorial smile before they rejoin the action.

—–

Jason Fisher stands near the elongated dining table. Small vases with tasteful arrangements of florals in dusty oranges and subtle pinks line the center of the leaf-print tablecloth. Jason straightens pieces of silverware that don’t need straightening on the beautifully set tabletop. Sarah Fisher Gray wanders over to him, her older-sister instincts kicking in as she observes him.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” she says tentatively.

“You, too.”

“Sabrina‘s not coming?” Sarah asks softly, though she already knows the answer.

He tries for a casual shrug. “She went to Iowa. Wanted to be with her family. She says it might help her reset.”

“I take that to mean she didn’t invite you and Sophie to join her.”

“Nope.” His shoulders tighten. “I just… floated the idea… asking if she might’ve been the one to write the notes and do those– those other things.”

“You have to examine all angles,” Sarah says. “It’s the cornerstone of any good investigation. You can’t let your biases guide you.”

“Thanks for saying that. I wish Sabrina could see it that way.”

She nods sympathetically. “She’s under a lot of pressure.”

“That’s what concerns me at least as much as these threats,” he shares, voice low. “She’s exhausted all the time. Spacing out. Sleeping constantly. Those headaches are coming more frequently. If she’s not somehow doing this to herself — and I know that’s an insane thing to say — then it’s affecting her really badly.”

Sarah touches his arm. “Maybe a few days apart will help everybody cool off. Getting out of King’s Bay could be good for her, too. Like Sabrina said: a reset.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jason says, but the worry behind his eyes lingers.

—–

In the den, small flames dance in the Fishers’ second fireplace. Sophie Fisher and Christian Taylor sit cross-legged on the cushy sectional sofa, while Gabrielle plays with a set of Barbies on the floor. Christian takes a sip from a can of grapefruit-flavored sparkling water.

“Do you still have that zombie makeup from Halloween?” he asks.

Sophie scrunches up her face. “What do you mean?”

“The makeup kit you didn’t use,” Christian says. “Because the bathroom line was too busy.”

“Oh… That. Yeah.” Sophie racks her brain, trying to recall the night, but the images and sounds and memories are like wisps of smoke, slithering through her fingers as she attempts to grab onto them. “I don’t know. I can check. Why do you need it?”

Christian sets his can back down on the coffee table. “There’s this Nightmare Before Christmas party on campus. I’m thinking zombie elf is the way to go.”

“That’s cool,” Sophie says, but her focus is still on those elusive memories. Why am I having so much trouble remembering? she wonders, as a coil of worry tightens in her gut.

—–

The crisp chime of the doorbell sounds through the house. Molly Taylor, who is retrieving her phone from the pocket of her winter coat, which is hanging in the closet by the entry, unlocks the door and pulls it open. A burst of cold air gushes into the house as Molly takes in the person standing on the other side of the threshold: her nephew.

“Travis. Hi,” she says, a little stiffly, before stepping aside to welcome him into the house. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too,” Travis says as he shuffles inside and wipes his shoes. The silence stretches taut between them.

“How are you doing?” Molly finally asks. Behind her, in the living and dining rooms, the holiday gathering continues apace, festive conversation and laughter filling the air along with the tantalizing scents of the meal being prepared.

He looks up at her, a little surprised, as he wriggles out of his coat. “I’m fine.”

“I understand how you must feel. When I went on trial for Philip‘s murder — I wasn’t so sure I’d survive that. You aren’t alone.”

“I know I’m not,” he says, not sounding entirely convinced.

“You have your entire family on your side.”

Travis’s eyes flicker back toward her. “You believe I’m innocent?”

“I know you, Travis. I know you wouldn’t take a life unless it was in self-defense — or in defense of Rosie, or Gabrielle, or someone else you love.”

“I’m not sure Rosie would want my help right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Conrad wanted to check her cell phone records to confirm that she was actually in Seattle that night,” Travis explains. “She found out and was hurt that I’d even let him consider her as a suspect. I just…”

“You have to account for every possible angle. It doesn’t mean you’re accusing her.”

“I know that, but she doesn’t.”

“You’d think she would understand that, as a police officer.”

Travis shrugs. “She asked me to move out of her mother’s house, at least temporarily. I don’t know where we stand. And all of this, it feels like… like it’s going to drown me.”

Molly takes his coat from him and hangs it in the closet. “You’re strong, Travis. You’ll get through this.”

“I don’t know about that.”

She straightens the row of coats inside the closet. “You are. A weak man wouldn’t have put Gabrielle’s needs first and helped her transition to living with us, but you did.”

That hits him deeply. “I miss her. Every day.”

“She’s in the den playing,” Molly says. “Do you want to go see her?”

“I’d love that.”

“Come on,” she says, closing the closet door before moving into the living room. Travis follows her.

—–

Diane Bishop slips through the bustling dining room with a wine glass in hand. She catches Isaac Banks just as he is coming out of the powder room.

“There you are,” she says as she takes a big glug of wine.

Isaac looks at her askance. “What’s up with you?”

“Paula just tried to hand me a potato peeler and put me to work,” Diane explains. “I told her: wine and pies are my specialty.”

He chuckles. “Can’t blame a lady for trying.”

Diane shudders as Sophie emerges from the den, staring down at her phone. She nearly bumps right into them.

“Hey, Sophie. Happy Thanksgiving,” Diane says.

The teenager looks up, almost alarmed. She takes in Diane’s face for a long moment.

“Yeah. You, too,” Sophie says. Then she moves off into the dining room.

“That was weird,” Diane comments.

“Weird how?” Isaac asks.

“I don’t know. It was like she didn’t recognize me for a second there.”

“She’s a teenager. She has her face buried in her phone.”

“I guess,” Diane says, but that strange unsettled feeling lingers within her.

—–

In the kitchen, steam fogs up the window over the sink and even the sliding glass door that leads out to the deck. Tim Fisher leans against the counter as Paula places another foil-covered serving dish on the table.

“It’s nice to have such a full house,” he comments.

“It’s a blessing,” Paula agrees. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I do wish Spencer and Peter would have joined us.”

“I worry about Spencer so much,” Tim admits. “Losing Loretta that way — even if she was a vile woman — and then having this investigation play out in such a public way…”

Paula sighs. “I know. And it seems like his instinct is to push us all away rather than let us be there for him.”

“That is his instinct. It’s like he’s testing us to see whether we’ll abandon him.”

Her lips pulled into a tight line, Paula nods. “I think you’re right.”

“And Travis,” Tim continues. “Poor kid can’t catch a break.”

“Sarah and Landon are working very hard to help Conrad build his case.”

“I know they are.” Tim moves to the sliding door and gazes out into the dark backyard. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re supporting him, and that’s all anyone can ask,” Paula says. “Let’s not forget the things we do have to be thankful for: TJ is recovering, and so is Samantha.”

A smile, weak at first, then growing in purity, appears on Tim’s face. “Yeah. We’ve been so worried about both of them, and now they’re doing better, and their brothers…”

She places a hand on his shoulder. “Now you know how your father and I felt, oh, every single day.”

“I just want all my kids to be happy,” Tim says as he turns back toward her.

“That’s all we wanted, too. Sometimes you have to hold on tight to your faith and let things play out, though. All we can do as parents is support and console.”

“So there’s no magic fix?”

“Unfortunately not.” She gives him a little nudge. “Now grab some rolls and set them out. Set an example for those youngsters.”

Tim laughs as he picks up the basket. “Now that I can do.”

—–

The family and their guests descend upon the dining room, performing the intricate dance of slipping past one another in the narrow space to reach their seats. Christian, Caleb, Sophie, and Billy all carry platters and serving dishes to the table, placing them in the center.

“Maybe we should’ve done this before everyone pounced,” Caleb comments.

“Yeah, I’m worried I’m gonna spill this all over someone,” Billy says as he carefully places a gravy boat near the head of the table, where Paula is already seated.

“Thank you, boys,” Paula says with a smile.

As everyone settles into their seats, Tempest lingers near her own.

“Come on, sit,” Samantha tells her girlfriend, patting the seat.

“Uhhh…” Tempest draws a deep breath and then calls out, “Can I get everybody’s attention for a minute?”

Heads begin to turn, and lips making shhhh noises. Soon enough, the hubbub has faded into nothingness. Samantha looks up at her with confusion.

“This last year’s been a lot for almost everybody here,” Tempest says. She sees all the eyes pointed right at her and briefly wonders if she is crazy for doing this, but Claire offers her a look of encouragement, and that is all she needs to continue.

“We don’t get a lot of times like this, where just about everyone’s in one place together,” she continues. “So I wanted to take advantage of it.”

“What’s going on?” Samantha asks her in a nervous whisper. Then her eyes widen, as Tempest drops to one knee. Gasps fly up from around the table.

“No way,” Diane says, as she clutches Isaac’s hand. He grins and squeezes her hand back.

“Sam,” Tempest says, “you’re my favorite person, and my partner, and you’ve been a safe space for me from the moment we met. We’re already creating a life together. Moving in together was a huge step, and it’s been even better than I imagined. And when you were in the hospital…” She gets choked up and pauses.

“It’s okay,” Samantha softly encourages her.

“Man, I was scared I was gonna lose you, and it made me think about how we can’t waste any more time. So…” Tempest pulls out the velvet box and flips it open. “Will you marry me?”

Samantha’s hand covers her mouth, tears already forming in her eyes. “Yes,” she managed through a sob. “Of course. Yes!”

The packed room erupts in cheers, applause, and happy tears.

“This is so beautiful,” Claire says quietly to Tim, and he nods enthusiastically as he watches Tempest slip the ring onto his daughter’s hand.

“Congratulations, you guys,” Travis, watching from several seats down, calls out.

Paula rises from her chair. “Come here, both of you.” She uses both arms to wrap them in a congratulatory hug. For this moment, at least, everything feels warm and whole.

END OF EPISODE 1282

Is a wedding what the Fishers need right now?
Will anyone figure out what’s going on with Sophie?
What can Travis do to get through his trial?
Talk about it all in the comments below!

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