Page 62 of Finding Yesterday

My family has our buried secrets. It looks like Jack’s has theirs too.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I PRACTICED MAMA’Svegetarian shepherd’s pie, and it’s ready for prime time as the meal tonight.

It’s Sunday, and Emma and Dylan are here in Blue Vine to have dinner with me, Daddy, and Nate. I’m in the kitchen cooking, alone, while the rest of my family sits on the porch. We have a family deal—I cook, and they do the dishes. It works for me.

I walk over and glance out the front window. Nate strokes the guitar before handing it to Dylan.

This I’ve got to see.

I approach the window, careful that Dylan doesn’t see me. I don’t want him to stop what he’s doing. He’s studying each of the strings with an intensity I’ve never seen before. He keeps striking the D chord over and over, and Nate’s urging him to try another.

Dylan doesn’t, and I chuckle. “That’s right kid, don’t listen to Nate. No one else does.” Daddy can’t help himself. He comes over and lifts Dylan onto his lap. Daddy puts his hands over Dylan’s, and together they start to play.

I glance at Emma, and her face is as bright as it was when she used to have stage lights on it. I bet that Dylan wanting to learn about music probably fills some of the hole she has in her heart over it. Maybe Dylan liking it will get her to sing again.

I return to the kitchen, alone, realizing this is why I’m sure my siblings don’t miss Mama like I do. This is how things always were, the way the family divided up, and they all still have each other. And most of the time I feel as if I have no one who really understands me.

Well, except Winston. He’s sitting in front of the refrigerator. As it turns out, Daddy gave him some broccoli I made so Daddy didn’t have to eat it.

Well, guess what, Daddy? Winston is now addicted to broccoli. So much so that he sits by the refrigerator and waits for it. There’s no more, but I steam him some, as I can’t stand seeing him so sad. When I throw it down, he’s so happy he snorts while he eats it, and I’m so proud of my veggie loving piggy. But then Winston lifts his snout, begging for more, and I’m worried this much will upset his stomach. “Oh, Winston, what did Daddy do?”

He nods his head, so I go ahead and give him more. Oh, dear.

Then I get back into the dicing, mixing, and baking. The kitchen smells so good, the shallots, potatoes, peas, carrots, and lentils, all blended with the garlic, thyme, and parsley. The other thing I love about cooking—that warm feeling of home comes with the scent of these dishes.

I dry and mash the lentils to provide the texture of meat and spice it separately.

When the family comes inside, Dylan is excited to help me set the table, so I let him place the napkins and spoons for me.

“Where’s the beef, Chicken Little?” Nate says, looking at the food on the table.

I put a hand on a hip. “Don’t worry, Moon Pie, I made you a separate one.” I point to a small pie sitting on the counter. I knew Nate would complain, so he gets his own. I’d offer Daddy his own too, but he really needs to eat better.

“Aw, I love you too,” Nate says.

He pushes me aside to reach for the pie, and I smack his arm away. “Leave it there. I’ll bring it when you’re seated at the table like a gentleman.”

“Are you talking to Dylan or Nate?” Emma asks with a chuckle as she walks by.

“Nate, obviously. Dylan is way too mature for me to have to speak to him like that.”

“Ouch,” Nate says, clearly not one bit hurt. He zooms off to the table to take his seat.

Once we’re all eating, Daddy asks, “This is Millie’s recipe, Claire?”

I smile. “Yes. I made a few small adjustments.” I don’t tell him that it’s things to help his cholesterol. He’ll bristle.

“Well, it’s been a long time, but I’d say this is even better than your mother’s.” He nods before digging back in. He stops his fork right before he puts it in his mouth. “And that’s quite the compliment, honey. Millie could’ve had a restaurant.”

Daddy’s told me that many times before, but the mention of it this time brings on another meaning after what Jack and I found yesterday. “Did Mama ever try to open one?”

“She talked about it. She wanted to put one here on the property next to the vineyard, but it didn’t work out. At the time, this wasn’t zoned for a commercial business like that, and then there were a bunch of things we’d have to do to meet county requirements. It wasn’t worth it, and we couldn’t afford for her to lease a space downtown.”

“Would she have made plans for a restaurant?” I ask before telling the family what Jack and I found. I pull out my phone and show Daddy the picture.

He fetches his glasses and studies it. “This doesn’t look familiar, no. She dropped the idea of the restaurant after Hannah started letting her use the kitchen at the Bradys’ restaurant.”

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