Page 58 of The Surprise

“Maren’s riding on a scooter?”

I snort. “Well, maybe in the summer. In this weather, I’m sure she’s hiding in a corner of the barn, playing on her phone. The others are probably playing some stupid horse game on top of the bales of hay. Maren would come inside, if she wasn’t worried she’d get tasked to do dishes, make a salad, or like, fold laundry. She’s a professional at skipping out on work.”

“Said like someone who looks like aprofessorat it.”

“Rude.” I flex my chest and arm muscles. “I’m a hard worker.”

The smile falls off Beth’s face, and I realize I got too flirty. “I know you are, Ethan.”

Friend zone, idiot. Focus. “It’s fine. I get it. Slackers are always underestimating me, but that’s your own confirmation bias showing.”

She rolls her eyes, and we’re back to dropping the dumplings into the boiling broth and chicken.

“And maybe we pull out some frozen sweet corn?”

“Sure,” Beth says. “Or how about green beans and cornbread?”

“Dang girl,” I say. “Are you trying to out-Southern my mom?”

She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no. I forgot your mom’s from the South.”

Ethan snorts. “She’s from California, but she lived in Houston for a while. Trust me, she’s not snooty about Southern stuff. She had to learn to make it herself.”

She bites her lip.

“Just make the cornbread. My mom has a great recipe.”

But Beth looks like a nervous wreck while she’s mixing it up. And when my mom gets home, driving the kids through the front door in front of her, Beth hides behind me.

“Wow, Ethan, you cooked?”

“Chicken dumplings,” I say.

“Oh, no,” Gabe says. “Can I have cereal?”

Mom laughs. “Well.”

“Hey now,” I say. “I had help.” I shove Beth forward like a human sacrifice. “She made me do it.”

“I hope she helped a lot,” Whitney says. “Because otherwise, we’re probably all eating cereal, and I think we’re low on milk.”

Mom’s laughing. “Smells like cornbread?”

Beth nods, but she kind of looks like she might cry.

“Don’t listen to the kids,” Mom says. “It smells great, and I’m sure with your help, none of us will be eating cereal.”

Mom glares at Gabe, who drops his eyes immediately.

“Now, let’s wash up and sit down to say grace,” Mom says.

Aunt Amanda breezes through the door moments just after we say the prayer. It’s no wonder Maren’s an expert at avoiding work. I swear, her mom wrote the book on it. It’s like the woman cansmellwhen the work is done and that’s when she sticks her nose in. “Oh, wow, what are we eating tonight?”

“I can’t believe you cook for an army every night,” Beth mutters. “How many frozen pizzas do you cook?”

“Usually four,” I say. “But keep in mind that Maren and Amanda hardly eat anything. They mostly subsist on Red Bull and strong smells.”

Maren hits me on the back of the head. “Shut up, you pig.”

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