Previously…
– Tempest was upset to see Samantha with her new love interest, Jaq, at the Pride parade.
– Diane hired Sarah to investigate the mysterious name “Terese,” a name her father had called her while on his deathbed. Sarah found that a woman named Terese DeLuca had been paid off by Diane’s grandfather for years until his death.
– After learning that Alex had been drugged the night before the custody hearing, a heated Jason confronted Spencer and wound up punching him in the face.

Jason Fisher’s entire body feels heavy as he stands in the nursery. It is as if all the weight — the anxiety, the stress, the pain — of the past year has installed itself inside his body, making even the act of moving a limb so strenuous that it seems impossible. He has been fine, or fine enough, but something drew him into this room, and now he doesn’t know how he is going to get out.

He scans the room. Everything is so familiar, so untouched, and yet it is all a relic of another life. The crib that was going to be traded out for a “big boy bed” so soon. The shoes that were outgrown months and months ago. The stuffed animals that have been waiting for their owner to return for so long.

But he hasn’t.

Jason had told himself it was all temporary. First, he didn’t want to remove anything from Peter’s room because he was sure the boy would be home soon enough. But even when he was allowed visits, they were brief, held in places like the park, and they never involved Peter coming home. Now, Jason realizes, with that weight pressing down on him so harshly, this isn’t Peter’s home anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.  

Especially not since Jason punched Spencer.

The memory is such a blur of sounds and colors. He doesn’t even remember making a fist, let alone winding up and then slamming it right into his nephew’s face. He doesn’t know what he hoped to accomplish in that moment, other than wanting to make Spencer shut up — to make the reality of the situation no longer be true, really. And now he has accomplished just the opposite. 

“Dad?” Sophie’s voice calls through the house. Jason is still trying to shake himself out of his stupor when he hears her footsteps pounding down the hallway at the hyperactive pace that only a child can achieve.

“What are you doing in here?” she asks when she stops in the doorway.

Jason turns and uses nearly all the willpower he possesses to force a smile at his daughter. “Just thinking, that’s all. Are you ready to go to Grandma’s?”

“I’m ready to eat turkey!” she exclaims, patting a hand on her stomach.  

“Good. Grandma said she and Travis have been cooking all day.”

“Then let’s go! C’mon!”

Sophie excitedly runs out of the room, and he hears her bounding down the stairs.

With a loud sigh, Jason turns fully toward the door. He tells his feet to move him in that direction, and they do, step by step. But before he exits, he looks back and takes in Peter’s room.

Peter’s old room.

Swallowing hard as he chokes back tears, he follows Sophie down the stairs.

—–

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Samantha Fisher says as she removes her coat in the foyer of her half-brother’s home.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Spencer Ragan responds, holding out his hands so that both Samantha and Jaq Pearson can pass him their coats.

“Thanks for having me,” Jaq tells him as she glances around. “Your house is amazing.”

“We’re glad you could make it,” Spencer says. “Natalie and her mom have been organizing stuff from the caterers for hours.”

“Not a home-cooking family?” Jaq asks.

Samantha grins at her. “Once you meet my aunt and grandmother, you’ll understand.”

“But they can pour you a mean glass of wine,” Spencer says, “or whatever else you want. They’re in the kitchen. Tori and Zane are already here, too.” 

“Why don’t you go say hi to them?” Samantha suggests to Jaq. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

After planting a kiss on Samantha’s cheek, Jaq heads down the short hallway toward the kitchen. Samantha follows Spencer to the coat closet.

“Looks like things are getting serious between you two,” he comments as he pulls out two wooden hangers.

Samantha’s cheeks flush with pink. “Yeah. They are. Jaq is really cool. And thanks for inviting them to join — their parents are in Colorado, and it didn’t make sense to spend so much money to fly home for such a quick trip.”

“If she–” He catches himself. “If they make you happy, they’re more than welcome here.” 

“It is weird that the family is so divided this year,” Samantha says, a bit forlornly. “I feel bad for Grandma.”

“I do, too,” Spencer replies gruffly. He hangs one coat and then the other in the closet. “But I’d feel even worse for her having to deal with a civil war in the middle of her holiday meal, and after what Jason did to me–”

“He lost control for a minute.”

“He punched the shit out of me. And I’m not sure I trust him not to do it again.”

“Spencer. Come on. You know Jason isn’t violent.”

“I heard he got into a brawl with Brent’s brother at Christmas once. So maybe he’s not quite as innocent as everyone thinks.”

“No one’s claiming that he’s without blame,” Samantha says. “But he’s been through a lot — first finding out Peter wasn’t really his, then realizing his whole relationship with Natalie had been a lie, and then losing the custody case before it even got started. You might punch someone if you’d had to deal with all that, too.” 

“I’m not saying I’m perfect.” He closes the closet door and leans against it. “But Jason fucked up by hitting me, and if that means I get to keep my son… then I guess it all worked out, didn’t it? Now let’s go get something to drink.”

Without waiting for her response, Spencer moves off toward the kitchen. Samantha shakes her head sadly before following him to join the celebration.

—–

“It smells incredible in here,” Molly Taylor says as she enters the kitchen of the house in which she grew up. Her mother, who is dressed in a burgundy turtleneck and black skirt with a festive autumn apron to protect her outfit, turns away from her post at the stove to greet Molly.

“I just hope everything tastes as wonderful as it smells,” Paula comments before returning to stirring the gravy.

“I have no doubt that it will. What can I do to help?”

Paula smiles gratefully. “Travis and I should have everything under control. He just ran to get something from the attic.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’d still love to help so the two of you don’t have to do it all yourselves.”

After a moment, Paula relents. “Would you mind taking over the gravy so I can check on the scalloped potatoes?”

“Of course not. Here, let me in there!”

As Molly takes over at the stove, Paula moves to the oven to peer in at the casserole dish in which the potatoes are currently baking.

“See? Those smell amazing,” Molly says as the aromatic air drifts out of the open oven door.

Paula quickly closes it and faces her daughter again. “I don’t know if there’s any time I miss your father more than holidays like this. He was always at his happiest when he was preparing a big meal for the entire family…” Her face falls, and she takes a pause before continuing: “Although perhaps it’s best he not have to see how things are this year.”

“It won’t be like this forever, Mom. Maybe a little cooling-off period really will be best for everyone.”

“I hope so. I just hate not having everyone together — and having all this conflicts going on. Jason and Spencer can’t be in the same house, Tori won’t have dinner with her father, Tim is trying to do double-duty…”

Molly catches her mother’s eyes and gives her a meaningful stare. “We will get through. All of us. Together.”

“I do hope you’re right,” Paula says despondently. “I really do.”

—–

In the crowded dining room of Paula’s house, Tim Fisher pours himself a club soda at the makeshift bar setup on the sideboard.

“So is the plan to eat two dinners tonight?” his sister asks as she uses the corkscrew to open a bottle of red wine.

“I’ll dabble in both meals,” Tim says, quickly squeezing a wedge of lime into his glass. “Between you and me, I’m pretty sure that Mom and Travis’s meal will blow Spencer and Natalie’s out of the water.”

“Agreed on that front.” Sarah pulls the cork from the wine bottle with a loud plunk. “I’m sorry you have to split up your night.” 

Tim shrugs. “If that’s what it takes to keep the peace, then that’s what it takes. I really don’t want Jason or Spencer to feel like I’m taking sides, either. It’s time for everyone to start to heal.”

“I’m not sure how quickly that’s going to happen.” 

“Yeah. But since the judge tossed out Jason’s appeal in the custody case, maybe we can all start to move in that direction.”

“I still can’t believe he punched Spencer in front of that many people,” Sarah says as she pours herself a glass of wine. “If you’re that pissed at someone… at least make sure there are no witnesses around.”

“Or don’t punch someone in the face to begin with.”

“Or that.” She takes a quick sip of the full-bodied red wine, testing it on her tongue. “But I do get where he was coming from. He lost his son, then he lost the custody suit because someone set up him and Alex…”

“I still don’t know what to think on that front,” Tim says with a sigh. “Spencer swears that he had nothing to do with Alex being drugged.”

“And you believe him?”

“I do. I might not have raised Spencer, but I think I’ve developed a pretty good ability to read him over the last few years. I truly don’t think he’s lying.”

“But someone drugged Alex, and I’m sure they drugged Alex, too,” she counters. “It isn’t fair that Jason doesn’t even get a chance to make that case, all because of one punch.” 

Tim’s right shoulder rises and falls in a weary shrug. “It sucks. I know it does. And I feel for Jason. But he sealed his fate — at least in this situation — by decking Spencer. I’m not surprised the judge refused to consider his appeal.”

“You’re right about one thing: it does suck. But I’m not so sure Jason is going to be ready to move on just because his chances of winning custody are over.”

Tim brings his glass to his lips but doesn’t drink. “Then I don’t know where any of us go from here.”

—–

“Samantha, darling,” Claudia Bishop says as she gives her granddaughter an air kiss on the cheek and then stands back to take her in fully. “You’re looking well. I don’t know about camel-colored slacks with that sweater, but…”

“Mom,” Diane Bishop interrupts. “You could leave it at ‘happy Thanksgiving.’”

The older woman rolls her eyes. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You, too, Grandma,” Samantha says. “This is Jaq.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Jaq says as they step up to shake Claudia’s hand. While they shake, Claudia appraises the younger person’s short, edgy haircut, skinny trousers, and bowtie.

“You, too,” Claudia says after a contemplative pause. “You’re Samantha’s girlfriend, I take it?”

Samantha and Jaq exchange a look.

“We’re saying ‘partners,’” Jaq explains. “I prefer neutral pronouns — they, them, theirs.”

“I’ll do my best to keep up with all that.” Claudia turns to Diane and adds, “Things change so quickly nowadays.”

“We appreciate you making the effort, Grandma,” Samantha says cheerily. “Now, Jaq: wine?”

“Wine sounds great,” Jaq replies, and they move toward the other end of the large marble-topped island.

“Samantha seems happy,” Claudia comments as she picks up her own wine glass from the counter behind her.

Diane nods. “She does. I was worried for a long time that she wouldn’t be able to get over Tempest — but Jaq seems to be helping that process along nicely.”

“I’m very glad to see that.” Claudia purses her lips. “And how about you? Have you found another man to set your sights on?”

“Way to make me some like some kind of man-eater.”

“You know what I mean.”

Diane swallows the irritation that always arises when her mother says, well, almost anything to her; she reminds herself that this represents some amount of effort on Claudia’s part, so she might as well entertain it.

“I’m not trying to meet anyone,” Diane says, “but if it were to happen… I’m open to it, obviously. But the older I get, the more grateful I am for what I do have: an incredible job, great friends, a daughter I hardly deserve.”

Claudia drinks her wine and regards her daughter with narrowed eyes.

“What?” Diane asks, bristling at the mere implications of that look. 

“Nothing,” Claudia says, a bit coyly. “It’s only… that’s a very evolved viewpoint. It makes me nervous when you don’t act like the Diane I know so well.” 

Diane takes a piece of broccoli from the crudité display atop the island, desperate to busy herself so that she doesn’t snap at her mother.

“I’m trying. And I’d say Natalie has had the Bishop women covered in the drama department this past year.” Seeing an opportunity to shift the conversation, Diane eagerly takes it. “How are you doing? Your first Thanksgiving without Dad can’t be easy.”

Claudia stiffens, standing a little more upright, and again drinks some wine. “It is. And I’d imagine it’s difficult for you, too. He was your father, Diane.”

“I know that. Of course it’s weird. Sorry for trying to check in on you.”

Diane scans the kitchen to ascertain on which hapless soul she might be able to pawn off Claudia. Samantha and Jaq are ensconced in conversation with Tori and Zane; Natalie and Bree are moving food in and out of the warming drawer that sits beneath the oven.

“I appreciate that,” Claudia says, with uncharacteristic warmth. She hesitates a moment before adding, “Natalie is bringing Bree and Peter out to Sun Valley the week before Christmas to visit his grave. Why don’t you come? Your father would like to know you’ve come there — and I’m sure Samantha would, too.”

Diane pauses — both because her mother’s proposal genuinely comes as a surprise and because she knows she won’t be able to go.

“That would be really nice,” Diane says, “but I actually have a trip scheduled that week. For work.”

“What? Where could some local radio station be sending you right before Christmas?!”

“They’re having us host a bunch of events throughout western Washington,” Diane says. “But I’d love to come visit his grave at some point. Truly.”

“Well, I suppose you’ll have to find time for that,” Claudia says, and with that, she departs with wine in hand.

Diane grimaces as she watches her mother approach Samantha; in the distance, the doorbell rings.

If you knew where I’m really going, she thinks, you’d lose your mind more than you already have. 

—–

A gust of chilly air blows over Molly as she stands at the open front door.

“Come in, come in,” she tells her younger brother and her niece.

“Where’s Christian?” Sophie demands as soon as she crosses the threshold.

“He’s in the den,” Molly says.

“Well, I need to talk to him,” the little girl says.

“Coat first, and wipe your shoes,” Jason reminds her. Acting as though she has been asked to carry Sisyphus’s boulder up the hill. But she removes her coat, thrusting it into Jason’s hands, and dutifully wipes her shoes before rushing off.

“Can’t wait to see how she acts after she’s had pumpkin pie and ice cream,” Jason says as he takes off his own coat. 

Molly closes the door. “Just let her and Billy run around until they wear themselves out.”

“That’s the plan.”

She looks her brother over with concern. “And how are you? I know the past few weeks have been really rough.”

“I’m getting by,” he says, not entirely convincingly. “It sucks, you know? One minute, I thought I had a strong case for an appeal, and the next–” He looks down at his right hand, as if still mystified at what it has done. “You throw one punch, and everything changes.”

“I wish there were something I could say to make this all better, but I know it isn’t that simple. But still.” She envelops him in a hug, smushing the jackets on his arm between them.

“Thanks, Mol.”

“How much cologne are you wearing?” she asks, stepping back suddenly.

“Me? Like, a little spritz on my wrist. Why?”

She takes another sniff. “It seems really strong, that’s all.”

“You’ve been testing too many Objection products,” Jason says. “They’ve got your Spidey senses all turned up.”

“I guess so.”

“Is Tim here?” Jason asks as he opens the door of the nearby coat closet.

“Yeah, he’s in the dining room.”

Jason hangs up his and Sophie’s coats before responding.

“Here goes nothing, I guess,” he says as he moves toward the living room to join the party.

Molly lingers in the entryway for a moment longer, unable to shake the incredibly potent smell of that cologne. A sudden wave of nausea sweeps over her body. She uses one hand to brace herself against the wall while touching the other to her stomach.

She draws in a deep breath and slowly exhales.

“Come on. Pull it together,” she mutters before rejoining the celebration in the living room.

—–

When he hears the doorbell, Spencer slips out of the kitchen and into the dining room. He passes through the living room to open the front door, where he finds his biological mother and her guests waiting.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says, motioning for them to come inside. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having us,” Brent Taylor says as he helps Claire out of her coat.

“Where’s that grandson of mine?” Claire asks, glancing around.

“Natalie took him upstairs to change his shirt, I think. They’ll be down in a minute.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Spencer,” Tempest Banks says as she steps out from behind Claire and Brent. “Nice of you to–”

But before she can finish her sentence, her attention is pulled to the living room, where Samantha now stands, frozen in place at the sight of the new arrivals.

END OF EPISODE 996

How will things be with Samantha, Tempest, and Jaq?
What is this mystery trip Diane has planned?
Are Jason’s chances of raising Peter truly over?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!
Happy Thanksgiving!

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