Page 27 of Lies and Lullabies
Six
Kira
By ten o’clock in the morning, I’d already taken two walks with Vivi, read seven picture books, and made a beautiful quiche with a whole-wheat crust and caramelized onions.
Who knew a morning could last for five years?
And as I rolled out the crust for my quiche, I was reminded of all those summer afternoons when I’d cooked for Jonas Smith, aka John Smith, aka the man I could not stop thinking about.
Usually, I enjoyed my memories of him. But this morning they only made me want to throw up from stress.
“Looks good,” my father grunted, passing through the kitchen.
“Hey, thanks.” A two-word compliment from my father was rare. Money and enthusiasm had always been in short supply in this house.
“Mama?” Vivi tugged on the hem of my shorts.
I cleared my throat and tried to sound perky. “What’s up, buttercup?”
“Hungry,” she said simply.
“I’ll bet.” The kitchen smelled of onions browned in butter. You’d have to be comatose to resist that scent. “Ten more minutes. The crust isn’t brown yet.”
“I’ll get a book,” she said.
“Great idea.”
When the quiche was finally ready, I sent Vivi to gather Adam and my father to the table. I cut a microscopic piece for myself, since my appetite was completely vanquished by the butterflies in my stomach. But Adam and Dad made loud noises of approval about my cooking, as they always did.
It was the one thing nobody ever argued about.
“Someday you’ll have your own cafe,” my father said, folding his napkin.
“Someday,” I repeated.
My dad put down his fork. “Why not soon?”
This again?“Because running a small business with a preschooler is a bad combination. I love to cook for people. But I do not want the stress of dealing with the Boston health department, hiring workers, trying to get a decent price on real estate.” I got tired just thinking about it.
“Open it here,” my father said, waving his arm in the direction of either the driveway or Main Street.
Across the table, Adam snorted. “Seriously? You stay in business, Pop, because all seven people who live here would rather pay your prices for toilet paper and beer than make the forty-minute trek to the big box stores. There’s not enough traffic for a restaurant, except in the summertime.”
“It wouldn’t have to earn all that much,” my father pressed. “She and Vivi could live here.”
“With the rowboat?” Vivi piped up, hope in her voice. She loved that freaking boat. And now I wanted to stab my father with a fork for bringing my daughter into this.
“Yeah,” my father said, smiling at Vivi.
“Why not throw in a pony?” Adam quipped, helping himself to another slice of quiche. “Kira can’t move to Maine, Dad. We don’t want this claustrophobic town for her.”
“We?” Dad growled. “What say doyouhave? And Maine is safer than that dirty city.”
Oh yay. More tension. Whenever the four of us were together, it was always simmering just beneath the surface. And our arguments about where Vivi and I should live were never really about real estate.
“How would you know Maine is better?” Adam grumbled. “You never visit us. You never goanywhere.”
“I can’t leave. I run a small business.”
