It filled Amanda’s head, too, like a heavy, rich perfume.Amanda loved the smell, which announced the holiday as nothing else could. But on this particular Thanksgiving morning, she wasn’t roused by the lovely aroma while cuddling under a quilt or two. She was already hard at work in her stepmother’s catering shop, and had been there since very early that morning.Even here, the delicious smell conjured up so many memories—family and friends gathered around a big table, dishes passing from hand to hand. Her father carefully carving. Her sisters and cousins all vying for a chance to break the wishbone, until a concerned adult inevitably stepped in to pick the two lucky opponents. Amanda could still remember the excitement of being chosen.A mountain of wishes would be inspired by all the turkeys cooked in the big commercial ovens here today, now being packed for delivery. Amanda knew what she would wish for—just a chance to make a living playing her cello.She had tried hard to do just that for the past few months in New York City, sharing an apartment with friends after finishing a graduate degree at the prestigious Juilliard School.
