“You don’t know that, Lauren.” She turned to me. “Tell your father this is a bad idea.”

I looked at Dad, at his face. He’d already made up his mind. But Mom was right. This was weird, uncomfortable. We were about to have Thanksgiving dinner, our family dinner, and Dad wanted to invite a homeless stranger.

“Dad,” I said carefully. “Maybe we could just give him a plate to go.”

Dad looked at me, disappointed.

“Lauren.”

“What? I’m just saying we don’t know him and it’s… it’s our Thanksgiving.”

“Exactly. It’s Thanksgiving and he has nowhere to go.”

“That’s not our problem,” I muttered.

Dad’s jaw tightened. “When did you become so selfish?”

The words hit like a slap.