Page 89 of Wish You Faith

“How much pie do you want?” Rosie asked Evan.

“Average,” he said.

“What does that mean?” Rosie looked up. “Come here.”

Evan was in the kitchen in no time, standing super close to Rosie. He ended up with a slice of pie twice the size of Rosie’s slither of a pie. “No whipped cream.”

“We have that in common,” Rosie said.

On the other hand, her mom piled up whipped cream on her dessert plate, so much that Evan couldn’t see the pie buried under the whipped cream.

Evan helped Rosie carry the dessert plates and whipped cream container to the dinner table so that their guests didn’t have to get out of their chairs. Dottie and Marcella put a dollop of cream on each of their pie slices.

When Rosie lifted a napkin’s edge to Evan’s face and wiped something off his cheek, he recalled that evening at SSLR, when he wiped off melted chocolate from the edge of her lips.

“Bits of crust,” Rosie explained casually and continued eating.

Somewhere in Evan’s warmed heart, he was confident now, more than ever, that Rosie was the only woman for him. He thanked God for the multiple assurances he’d had over the course of the month. He prayed for courage to propose to her after Christmas.

Then again…

What if she said no? Would this mean that Evan had misheard God?

He glanced at his watch. It was nearly eight o’clock at night.

What? Only eight?

Four more hours to midnight.

What kind of excuses could Evan come up with to stay at the condo until tomorrow?

The group ate and chatted at the dining table for another hour. Sonya and her friends adjourned to the living room, while Rosie and Evan volunteered to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen.

Rosie put on a clean floral canvas apron. “Some of Dad’s old aprons are in the pantry. Top shelf.”

Evan went to the pantry as directed and reached up toward a tray on the top shelf. A striped apron with the words “Pit Master” fell out. He put it on. When he returned to the kitchen, Rosie was visibly moved.

“That’s Dad’s favorite,” she said. “We used to grill a lot when he was alive. He loved his charcoal grill and smoker. It wasn’t a big one, but he used it at least twice a month. I miss his smoked turkey, ham, beef brisket, and rotisserie chicken.”

“Where’s the grill now?” Not making any promises, but Evan thought he could learn to continue the barbecue tradition at the Hamilton household.

“Still there at the old house.” Rosie blinked away tears. She got busy rinsing plates and silverware to put into the dishwasher.

Evan stepped closer to her. “I’ll learn how to use a smoker.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Do you have your dad’s recipes?”

Rosie shook her head. “They came from all over the place. He died so suddenly that we didn’t have time to prepare for life after Dad, you know?”

Evan put his arm around Rosie’s waist. He could feel her relax a bit. He planted a quick peck on her cheek.

“Evan, I’m busy.” She smiled as she said those words.

They worked in tandem. Evan rinsed off food particles from plates, and Rosie loaded them in the dishwasher because she knew how to properly arrange the plates, cups, and pots on the two wire racks.

Evan volunteered to wash by hand the remaining pots and pans that didn’t fit into the dishwasher. While he did that, Rosie wiped down the countertops and tables. She also put the cloth napkins and placemats into the washing machine.

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