Chapter 52: Preparing for Thanksgiving

Chapter 52: Chapter 52: Preparing for Thanksgiving

After several additional days of meticulous revision, Irene completed all work on the soundtrack.

A profound sense of accomplishment overcame her; another project had reached completion.

Although she could not predict whether this effort would achieve comparable success, she felt no anxiety, only an impulse to commemorate the occasion.

She instructed Hill to archive every asset and then departed the mixing room.

The streets of Los Angeles already displayed seasonal embellishments, with pumpkin motifs prominent on storefronts and residences.

Thanksgiving was approaching, and her birthday would follow shortly thereafter.

Given that she had arranged a leave of absence from university, she intended to rescind it once she had rested sufficiently.

At this time last year, her thoughts had been occupied exclusively with cinema.

This year, her work concluded ahead of schedule, and she could finally afford her mind a genuine respite.

The evening air carried a slight chill that brushed her face, yet it conveyed a sensation of liberty.

She flagged a passing vehicle and directed it toward her parents’ residence in Malibu, planning to recuperate there.

En route, she sent a message to Britney: "Work is completely finished."

"Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?"

"I will reserve half of my birthday cake for you."

For Irene’s convenience, her parents had relocated the holiday gathering from Napa Valley to Malibu this year.

She then sent comparable messages to Vivian and Chen Shiyu.

She understood, more acutely than most, that one must cultivate a life beyond professional obligations.

Before Irene could exit the car, she observed her mother, Eleanor, waiting at the entrance.

Upon seeing her daughter, Eleanor opened her arms and advanced to greet her.

"My young director has finally decided to return home."

"You must be exhausted from these past weeks."

Her mother’s tone conveyed uncharacteristic pride and tenderness; evidently, Irene had been absent for an extended period.

"I intend to remain for several days this time; do not attempt to send me away," Irene said, adopting a playfully petulant expression.

"Remain as long as you wish," her mother replied with a warm laugh, embracing her as they entered the house.

Inside, her father, Francis, stood on a chair attempting to suspend a heavy garland of Indian corn above the fireplace.

"Father, be careful," Irene called out involuntarily.

Francis turned, and upon seeing his younger daughter, his face brightened.

He descended carefully and embraced Irene.

"Welcome home, my dear."

Irene returned the embrace, then feigned disapproval.

"Why are you doing this yourself?"

"Are there no other people in the house?"

"I am not yet incapable of physical effort; this is a minor task," he said, patting her back to demonstrate his vigor.

Irene smiled helplessly and refrained from further protest.

She inhaled and detected the scent of Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.

"Father, you have become thoroughly devoted to oenology; has filmmaking been relegated to second place?"

Francis laughed, untroubled by his daughter’s teasing.

He gestured toward the wine cabinet with evident pride.

"Once you taste the Burgundy I recently acquired, you will understand your father’s pursuit."

"Cinema creates dreams for the world, but fine wine is a dream conferred by providence."

He paused and added, with playful emphasis, "Except for your dreams, of course—those remain paramount."

As father and daughter conversed, the sound of another vehicle arrived from outside.

Moments later, her elder sister, Sophia, entered with her luggage.

"Hello."

"Did I miss the decorating?" Sophia asked, setting down her bags and extending her arms.

"Sophia," Irene exclaimed in surprise.

"Mother did not mention that you would return today."

Their mother approached and embraced both daughters.

"Because I was not informed either."

"It appears no one will be absent from Thanksgiving this year," Francis remarked, regarding his daughters with satisfaction.

Sophia removed her coat and efficiently rolled up her sleeves.

"Let us proceed to assign tasks."

"I insist on hanging the largest golden pinecone wreath myself."

"Father positioned it askew last year, and I have considered the error ever since."

Francis raised his hands in mock capitulation.

"Again with this matter."

"You may serve as Decorations Director this year."

Following the affectionate exchange, the family engaged in the laborious yet gratifying process of adorning the house.

As anticipated, Sophia assumed the role of director, instructing her father to adjust the elevation of ornaments and collaborating with Irene on the color coordination of the dining table’s floral arrangement.

Their mother prepared hot cocoa and observed her elder daughter critique the younger daughter’s aesthetic judgment: "What was your rationale for placing randomly gathered berry branches from the garden into the arrangement?"

Irene did not look up from her work.

"You fail to comprehend; I term this the ’Wild Style.’"

"You should term it the ’Disordered Style,’" Sophia replied with a frown.

"Is this the methodology you employ when directing?"

Irene disregarded her sister’s disapproval and continued her composition.

"As long as the result appeals to someone."

Sophia could not dispute the outcome; a debut feature grossing over one hundred million dollars constituted a legitimate achievement.

Sophia’s films typically employed muted palettes to establish atmosphere, producing a sense of isolation and detachment; such works were unlikely to achieve broad commercial success.

Irene, by contrast, favored audacious narrative conflicts and expansive plotting.

Consequently, one was inherently an art-house director, and the other a commercial director.

After completing the decoration of the dining room and rear garden, the family of four sat in the moonlit garden to draft the Thanksgiving guest list.

"George’s family must be invited; they attend annually," Eleanor said as she added a name.

"Naturally, their son Jack favors your roasted turkey above all," Francis added.

"Vivian informed me that she will attend," Irene said while peeling an orange.

"And Britney—she appears to have no familial obligations this year, so I extended an invitation."

"Oh, the young pop sovereign," Eleanor’s eyes brightened.

"I admire her music; it possesses considerable vitality."

Sophia raised an eyebrow and regarded Irene with amusement.

"It appears our family Thanksgiving is becoming a miniature society event."

"Perhaps Britney could perform for my film," she added.

After all, the theme song for Legally Blonde had been popular during the summer, with numerous observers attributing the film’s success to the track.

Irene gave her sister a playful push.

"You may ask her yourself that day, but should your film not have completed post-production long ago?"

"You are only now considering an additional song?"

"It is merely a theme song; the logistics are minimal."

"Using a track from her forthcoming album would suffice."

"I will inquire when the time comes."

Irene nodded; she naturally supported arrangements beneficial to both parties.

Francis interjected with feigned gravity, "Must I select a particular white wine to accompany ’Baby One More Time’?"

Sophia and Irene could not suppress their laughter, and Sophia placed another orange segment into her father’s mouth.

"Father, please concentrate on your wine and refrain from incongruous pairings."