Page 22 of Silver Linings
“I’ll be alerting the church elders as soon as you leave. Expect a riot of pitchforks at your door in no more than two hours.”
I can’t help the light laugh that bubbles out. It takes a second to register that it came from me, the sound as foreign to my own ears as it must be to her. From the look on her face, you would think she won the lottery. But whatever glee was on her face a minute ago fades once she looks towards her mangled ceiling.
Silver takes a step closer to the damage, and I have to fight the urge not to pull her away from it in case any loose debris falls. I lock my arms firmly behind my back.
“I’m going to cover it up while it dries so you don’t have to worry about any material falling.”
She just nods, top knot bouncing with the movement.
“I made lunch.” It’s such a complete one-eighty to what we were talking about that I’m caught off guard before I realize she meansfor me.She made lunch for me.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not a big deal. I was making food for myself, and I tend to make more than I ever need. Come on, it’s ready.”
Logically, I know I should turn her generosity away and leave for the day, but I find myself following her to the main living area and into her small galley kitchen, where I notice two baguette sandwiches. She reaches over into the refrigerator, grabs two bottles of water, and hands one to me.
“Thank you, for lunch and the water.”
“Don’t mention it.” She hands me a plate before hopping up to sit on the counter and digging into her own meal.
I take a bite then throw my head back and stifle a groan.“Jesus.”
Yeah, this is definitely better than the decade-old ramen packets I was going to eat.
She giggles to herself, the sound fizzy and light like bubbling champagne. “I know. It’s my Nan’s legendary chopped sandwich. She taught me how to make it when I was a teenager.”
“Chopped sandwich?”
She swallows a bite. “You put all the ingredients on a cutting board and start whacking away like a woman who’s ended up on an episode ofSnapped.”
“Graphic,” I grimace.
She continues without hesitation. “Then, once everything is chopped and mixed thoroughly, you put it on your bread of choice.But Nan is adamant it’s always best on a fresh baguette, and I never argue with her.”
She speaks of her grandma with such fondness, it makes my chest ache a little bit.
“Are you close with her? Your nan,” I ask, knowing I shouldn’t.
A soft smile brightens her face. “She’s my best friend. Well, her and Kena. I miss her every day.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I’ve stepped in it; me of all people should know the delicacy around familial loss. It’s been all I’ve known the last two years.
“Oh, she’s not dead! She’s just living a promiscuous life in Florida now, so I don’t get to see her often anymore. She raised me for most of my life.” There’s a brief sadness that flits across her features before it’s gone. There’s a story there, one I have no business being curious about. “When I started college, she decided to retire down south, and I lived here.”
“Well, please tell her hats off to the chef.”
“Why? I’m the one who made it while she gets sunburned on her ass today at the beach.”
I snort around another bite.
“Did you just move to the city?” She hops up on the counter as she takes a sip of her water, legs swinging back and forth.
I track their movement as they swing like a metronome, hypnotizing me, and then catch myself. “I went to college here but moved back home to the Seattle area after. I’ve been back for just over a month now.” That says enough without saying much of anything at all.
“How mysterious.” She eyes me skeptically, like she can sense there’s something I’m hiding. “Let me guess. You walked in on your lover slathering honey all over your boss, and you were so devastated, you had to change your name and skip town.”
“My boss was my sixty year old father.”
