INT. HELEN’S HOME/KITCHEN — NIGHT
They enter the kitchen. Walking past the succulent roasted turkey which rests cooling on the table, she goes to the counter. Opening a drawer, she collects a large carving knife and fork. Testing the knife along her thumbtip, she then retrieves a knife sharpener. Facing Clark, she takes knife to sharpener, eyes fixed on him as she expertly hones the edge to razor keenness. Replacing the sharpener in the drawer, wiping the blade off on the side of her dress, she takes up the carving fork and strides over to the turkey. She drives the fork straight into the carcass, skewering it.
Blowing a loose lock of hair out of her eyes, Helen holds the knife handle-out to Clark.
INT. HELEN’S HOME/DINING ROOM — NIGHT
Lewis, Sarah, and Lana are seated on one side of the rectangular dining table, Jonathan, Martha, and Luma on the other. Covered/uncovered side dishes and sauces occupy the tabletop; when Luma reaches out to sample one, Martha gently slaps her hand, correcting her.
Helen and Clark enter, the expertly sliced turkey carried by the lady of the house. Flashing her guests a broad grin, she sets the turkey in its place atop the table.
Moments later, Clark and Helen have taken their seats — Clark between his mother and Luma, Helen between her sister and Lana — opposite one another. As her guests serve themselves, passing the dishes across the table, Helen steeples her fingers under her chin, a slight smile across her lips. Luma studies Lewis as he fastidiously measures and arranges the portions on his plate.
HELEN
Luma-Lyn.
Luma’s gaze shifts from Lewis’ plate to Helen.
HELEN
(cont’d) I can’t place your accent. Where are you from?
LUMA
I’m French.
HELEN
(cocks eyebrow) Curious. I’ve spent time in France.
CLARK
She’s French-Canadian.
HELEN
Ah. (beat) Oh! I’ve a special treat in the kitchen. Give me but a moment.
Rising from her chair, Helen saunters into the kitchen. Moments later she reappears, a tall glass of red wine in hand.
HELEN
I’ve been saving this little item. (beat) No objections?
There’re no prohibitionists in this lot. Uncorking the bottle, Helen fills each of the adults’ glasses. She turns to Luma.
HELEN
French children are no strangers to vin with their meals. (smiles) Voulez-vous une tasse d’écureuils?
A strange expression passes across Sarah’s face.
LUMA
(slides glass forward) Please.
Smiling tightly, Helen pours Luma a glass, then takes a seat. She exchanges glances with her sister.
SARAH
(silent mouthing) Would you like a cup of squirrels‽
Taking up her glass, Helen drinks deep.