Page 18 of Butter You Up
“This is so good,” I tell Ethel after I swallow a big bite. “Especially the tomatoes.”
“Thank you, I grew them myself.”
My eyes round. “You did?”
“I grew or made almost everything. Not the eggs, those are from Udderly. The bacon came from one of the local farms, and the goat cheese is from the Price Chopper.”
My eyes travel over the spread again. There’s a lot here. “The croutons?”
“Baked from sourdough I made yesterday.”
“Butter,” I say, thinking for sure that she didn’t make it.
“Churned it myself.”
“What?” I say, my voice all high-pitched. “How do you do that? Isn’t it exhausting?”
“In a stand mixer. Set it and forget it.” Ethel looks so pleased with herself, and I love that for her.
“Dynamite in the kitchen,andyou have a green thumb,” I say. “Where do you grow it all?”
“I have a garden off the side of the house. You can’t see it when you drive by because it’s between Baabara’s house and ours.”
I lift a sprig of basil to my nose and inhale. It’s so good.
“Now I grew that downstairs.”
“Downstairs?”
“Gran has a garden in the basement with grow lights and aquaponics,” Ethan says. “It’s mostly for herbs.”
“Would you like to see it after dinner?”
“Heck yeah,” I say. I know nothing about gardens or seasonal produce, so I ask lots of questions. But eventually I get around to the one that’s been bugging me since we sat down.
“Where’s Alex?”
CHAPTER11
ALEX
Trixie lifts her head,so I know company is incoming. Sure enough, Kit rounds the corner into my office, puts his hands on his hips, and gives me the stink eye.
He was with me when I called Gran back, which was stupid. I should have waited until I was alone because when I made up excuses not to come to family dinner, Kit looked at me quizzically. I’d said that I had to work, and then also that Kit was here, and then tried to ignore the disappointment in Gran’s voice.
She’s not lonely, I tell myself. Grandad’s gone, but she’s got Colleen living with her, and Ethan and Lia are in the cabin and even Molly’s nearby in her van.
Maybe I should be jealous of Gran. When Kit’s not here, it’s just me and Trixie and it gets pretty quiet.
Once I’d hung up, Kit had protested. He wanted to go to my family’s farm for Sunday night dinner, but while Kit often gets his way with his charm and smiles, I just as often get my way with my staunch responses. And I really didn’t want to see my family.
Now, though, Kit tosses my truck keys in the air. “Come on, buddy. You said you were spending time with me, so let’s do it.”
“I also said I was working,” I point out.
“And now you’re done. We need to eat, and I’ll take a beer.”
When I emerge from the barn, it is later than I thought. The sun’s down, dusk hangs in the air, and a light drop in temperature marks the end of the day. Kit tosses me the keys over the truck bed, and we climb in. Trixie hops into the back seat, and we drive into the only establishment open this late in Fork Lick: Tiddy’s.
