Page 3 of Keepsake
At the other end of the table, Grandpa Shipley folded his hands and bowed his head. Everyone got quiet for his muttered prayer. After an “amen,” he forked a piece of pot roast onto his plate and then passed the platter. Side dishes were lifted and passed, and the swell of conversation began to rise up around me. I took spoonfuls of potatoes, Brussels sprouts and scalloped potatoes, while listening to May talk about the farmers’ market schedule.
“We don’t do a Friday market,” she said. “That’s why we have our big social meal on Thursday nights. Nobody is scrambling in the morning.”
There was a sudden crash, and I felt myself jerk in my chair. But it was only the sound of a serving spoon falling off one platter and onto another.
My flinch must have been distracting, because Dylan mouthed “sorry” from his side of the table.
Deep breaths, I coached myself. I’d been back from Guatemala four weeks, but my jumpiness refused to abate. I lifted another bite of food from my plate. “Who made these Brussels sprouts?” I asked. “They’re fantastic. Is that…bacon?”
“Hell, yes,” Audrey piped up. “I put bacon in everything.”
“I knew I liked you.” See? I could do this. Small talk and food. No big deal.
“Guys?” Griffin asked. “Audrey and I have some news.”
“Omigod!” May squealed beside me. “You’re pregnant!”
Audrey choked on a sip of water. “No!” she sputtered. “But should I burn this top?” She glanced down at her blouse.
Everyone laughed.
“Whatisthe news, kids?” Grandpa asked, his fork halfway to his mouth.
“Audrey is going to France this fall,” Griffin said. “For ten weeks. So you won’t have bacon in your Brussels sprouts for a while.”
There were noises of disagreement. “What?” “No way!” “Why?”
“I’m taking a fermentation class in Paris, where I’ve always wanted to study cuisine,” Audrey said brightly. “My mother gave me some money, and Griff and I hatched this plan for me to take a course taught by famous vintners and brewers. So we can expand the cider business and win even more awards next year.”
“Audrey, no!” Kyle argued. “You can’t leave! Griff is going to be a grumpy bear for the whole harvest season. Do you even know what you’re doing to us?”
There was more laughter, and, when Griff lifted his wine glass, he managed to give his cousin the finger while taking a sip.
“I know you’ll miss me!” Audrey sang. “And my enchilada sauce.”
Grandpa put his chin in his hand. “Let’s not forget the coconut rice.”
“I’m not worried about the food,” Kyle said. “Aunt Ruth never lets me down.”
Ruth smiled at him, but Kyle’s brother Kieran murmured “ass-kisser” under his breath.
“But, seriously. If Griff gets too cranky you can expect a call from me. Can’t you, like, come home on the weekends?”
“You make me sound like Caligula,” Griff grumbled. “I wasn’t so bad.”
A silence and a half-dozen hidden smiles disagreed.
“Tell us about your classes, honey,” Ruth said.
“The course on fermentation is the real draw,” Audrey responded. “There’s no other course like it in the world.”
“My girl has a good nose for cider,” Griff boasted. “We’ll be unstoppable next season.”
“I’m also looking forward to a short course on pastries,” Audrey added. “Drinks and croissants, people! I’m perfecting all the finest things in life. I’ll make pastries for you all when I get home.”
While she talked, I kept eating. I’d lost more than ten pounds these past couple of months. Food had been scarce during my…ordeal. And afterwards, I just hadn’t been very hungry.
But Mrs. Shipley’s pot roast was excellent, and Audrey’s garlic mashed potatoes were creamy and delicious. Even in a room full of people, I began to find my appetite.
