Page 106 of Steadfast
“No way! Cans are in again, Mom. You’re supposed to drink it out of the can so you don’t oxidize it with a quick pour.”
“Yeah, I justhateaccidental oxidation!” Audrey teased, removing the can from Griff’s big hand.
“Hey! Stop, thief!”
She sipped. “Wow. I’m keeping this.”
Without a word, Zach tugged another can out of the case and handed it to Griffin.
“Griffin, give your grandfather the ten-minute warning,” Ruth demanded. “And find Daphne so she can set the table.”
“I’ll set the table,” I offered quickly. “My sling is gone. That’s my other news. Oh—and Sophie and I patched things up.”
“WHAT?” Daphne hollered from the kitchen. “Back up. You’re back together with Sophie?”
“Yeah.” I pulled open the linens drawer in the dining room hutch. “The green napkins or the white?”
“Green!” Ruth called at the same time as May yelled, “White.”
Right. I pulled out the green because Ruth had more clout.
Audrey came through the room again to set a salad on the table. “You are full of good news tonight,” she said.
I really was.
Then my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sophie
Internal DJ set to: “Tradition” from Fiddler on the Roof
At five o’clockI walked into my mother’s room and stood bodily between her and her television. “Time to make the chicken,” I announced.
It was bossy, but it worked.
With a sigh she clicked off the television and followed me into the kitchen.
“I got six breasts so we could have leftovers. And I already zested the lemon. Now what?” I’d chosen this recipe tonight because it was one of Mom’s specialties back in the day, and I told her I had a craving for it. Of course, I really had a craving for her to get her skinny butt into the kitchen and act like her former self.
Though the chicken would be tasty, too.
“We mince the garlic next,” she said. Her gaze traveled around the kitchen, looking a little lost. As if, after a twenty-year absence, she’d wandered into a neighborhood she used to know.
“The garlic is right there,” I said, pointing to a bulb on the counter. “And I’ll grab you a cutting board.”
We worked together in relative silence, but it was nice to have some company in the kitchen for once. I sliced open the chicken breasts while she mixed garlic, olive oil, feta cheese and lemon zest.
“This gets a little messy,” she admitted as she began to spoon the cheese mixture onto the chicken breast. “Is the oven pre-heated?”
“Whoops. I’ll do that now.”
Someday I’d make this dish for Jude inourkitchen. At the end of a long day we’d cook dinner together and decompress. Jude would tell me stories about the crazy ways people managed to dent their cars, and I’d tell him about the cases on my desk at work.
I’d mince the garlic while he prepped the salad. We’d eat together at our tiny kitchen table, make out on our sofa and then make love in our bed.
These were the happy thoughts that got me through the long days without him. Even if we had the world’s smallest apartment somewhere, I couldn’t wait to close the door and throw the lock in a home that belonged only to us.
