“Hello, Kayla,” I replied cautiously. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” she began, “I’ve been thinking about Thanksgiving, and I realized it’s such an important meal. We should really step up the menu this year. Don’t you think?”

I could already feel my patience wearing thin. “Step up the menu? What do you mean?”

“Well,” she continued, “you know, your usual dishes are, uh, fine. But I was thinking we could do something a little more elevated this year. I’ll send you a list of recipes. They’ll make the meal more special.”

“Kayla,” I began. “Thanksgiving is about family and tradition. I’ve been making the same dishes for years because that’s what everyone loves.”

“Oh, I know!” she said breezily. “But wouldn’t it be nice to try something different for once? Honestly, your dishes are a bit, well, basic. And Arnold and I are trying to eat healthier, so this will be good for everyone.”

Basic. That word rang in my ears.

“Sure,” I said through gritted teeth. “Send me the recipes.”

When her email arrived, I nearly dropped my phone. Every recipe was packed with expensive, obscure ingredients. Truffle oil, imported cheeses, and organic products.

I could tell that sourcing the items would cost a small fortune and take days of running around specialty stores. As a result, I decided to call her back.

“Kayla, some of these ingredients aren’t exactly easy to find,” I said. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said with a giggle. “The dishes you usually make are too cheap. I thought we could try having an elegant menu this time.”

“But Kayla, I—”

“I trust you, Jasmine. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Her confidence was infuriating. But instead of arguing, I smiled to myself.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said before hanging up.

And I meant it. Just not the way she expected.

Thanksgiving Day arrived, and the house was buzzing with activity. The smell of roasted turkey, buttery sweet potatoes, and spiced green beans filled the air.

Arnold and Kayla arrived late, as usual, with Kayla strolling in like she owned the place. She was glowing with triumph. Her smug grin told me she was ready to claim her little victory.

“Jasmine,” she said, handing me a bouquet of flowers. “You’ve outdone yourself. I’m sure the menu will be just perfect.”

“Oh, it will be,” I replied with a warm smile.

As everyone gathered at the table, the spread looked divine. Kayla, of course, took the seat of honor next to Arnold, her eyes scanning the dishes with approval.

“Everything looks wonderful,” she announced, grabbing her plate. “Let’s dig in!”

I watched her confidently spoon a heap of stuffing onto her plate, followed by a generous serving of sweet potato casserole.

She looked around the table, basking in the compliments from the other guests, before taking her first bite.

And then it happened.

Her eyes widened and she froze mid-chew.

I could almost see the wheels turning in her mind as the flavor registered. She reached for her water, taking a sip to compose herself, but it was no use.

You see, I knew Kayla wasn’t allergic to anything, but I also knew her little secret. She hated nuts in her food.

So, I made sure to give her the Thanksgiving dinner she deserved.

The stuffing? Loaded with pecans.

Sweet potato casserole? Topped with a thick candied pecan crust.

Green beans? Tossed with slivered almonds.

Even the mashed potatoes had a garnish of roasted hazelnuts on the side.