Page 144 of Huckleberry Hill
Dad nodded, his expression turning solemn.
Declan noticed and looked at me.
Later, I mouthed.
He inclined his head and went back to eating. “I need this recipe,” Declan said. “It’s fantastic.”
“It really is,” I agreed.
“I’ll write it down for you,” Muddy said.
Declan frowned. “You don’t have it written down?”
Muddy shook her head and tapped her temple. “It’s stashed up here.”
“Along with many other great dishes,” I said. “Everything I know about cooking I learned from her.”
“Why haven’t you cooked for me?” Declan asked.
“Because you always offer to cook for me,” I reminded him. “And you’re no slouch.”
“You’ve cooked for her?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” Declan replied.
“When?”
“Dad,” I muttered.
“I’m just curious.”
“He made me his kitchen-sink nachos on the night of our first date. With homemade brisket.”
“Brisket?” Dad asked.
Declan nodded. “Yep.”
Dad paused. “I love brisket.”
“Yeah?” Declan asked.
“And beer,” Dad added. “I like bourbon better, but I like beer. Local beer. With pool tables.”
I frowned in confusion and looked at Muddy. She shook her head and shrugged.
“I like pool,” Declan said.
Dad stood up from the table, his plate only half finished.
Declan did the same.
“I’m driving,” Dad announced. To me he and Muddy he said, “Don’t wait up.”
The two of them left the room without another word.
“What’s that about?” I asked in confusion.
“If I had to guess, I’d say that’s your father’s olive branch,” Muddy said. “He’s taking Declan to the Copper Mule.”
