An awkward silence hung over the room. The people at the dinner table simply stared at the food spread with a mix of emotions. I urged, “Don’t just sit there. Dig in.” My mother, Susan Bridget, pulled a grimace, holding back an outburst only because others were present.Swallowing her rage, Susan asked, “Is this all of it? Push the waiting staff to hurry up and serve the rest.” “This is everything,” I replied indifferently before turning to the rest of the family. “Eat up before the food gets cold.” “Thud!” Susan slammed her utensil down, her chest heaving. “We are a table of twelve, and this is what you get us?” One family member uttered, “Macie, surely, this is a mistake. This isn’t quite the New Year’s Eve spread we usually have.In previous years, the family would have a feast with plenty of the finest seafood.This year, the table looked barren, set with only a small buffet. The only thing remotely close to a shellfish blowout was a measly shrimp cocktail.Of cours
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