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“Well…” She eyes the wine with approval. “Someone taught you well. Chateau d’Yquem Sauternes…” She clicks her tongue. “Very nice.”
I give her the bottle and she places her free hand on my cheek, smiling warmly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too,” I nod, hoping Ellery knows how much seeing her weighs into my affirmation.
An awkward silence falls over the four of us for a moment, then a pot boiling on the stove spills over, and the angry hiss of water hitting fire breaks the unease.
Spinning around, Ellery goes into rescue mode, reaching for the handle, pulling the pot to the back burner, and turning off the fire.
“Nice save,” I smirk as she turns back around.
She’s got flour on her hands and her cheeks are flushed, and I can tell by the way she shifts from one foot to the other she’s nervous.
“Thanks.” She brings the back of her wrist to her forehead and wipes.
“Whatcha’ making?” I eye the bowl in front of her.
“Dessert.” She clears her throat, then adds with more confidence. “Peach cobbler.”
“Oh, that sounds good.” I can’t help but flash her a wily grin. “I hear the peaches are sweet this summer.”
“It’s the um, heat,” her voice falters, clearly getting my innuendo. “They say the planet’s getting hotter.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense.” Saffron waves her hand, while making her way over to the counter.
“It’s true,” Ellery shakes her head, watching as her mother opens a drawer and pulls out a wine opener. Handing it to my father he reaches for the bottle and opens it, listening to the conversation with interest. “Last year was the hottest year on record, Momma.”
“Wasn’t that ‘89?” I counter, not talking about the weather, whatsoever.
Ellery shrugs, but something in her eyes tells me she understood the reference, just as well as she did my earlier innuendo. Our summer was hot, across the board.
“She’s right.” My father removes the cork with a pop. “1990 was the warmest year since we began keeping track of global temperatures in the mid nineteenth century. In fact, Professor Markum has been researching global ocean temperatures, and from what he says….”
My father rambles for a good minute or two before he realizes all of us have fallen silent.
“Sorry,” he grins. “It’s the academic in me.”
Saffron pats his chest and smiles. “Stick to Shakespeare, darlin.’ That’s sure to get my blood boiling.”
“Oh, god,” Ellery and I groan in unison.
“Please,” she adds with a laugh. “Stop.”
Our parents laugh and when Ellery and I flick our eyes to one another, it’s hard not to smile. The past few minutes have been a kind of normal I don’t think either of us expected. It makes me wonder if this is what it could have been like all along.
“Well,” her mother looks from Ellery to me, eyes dancing with joy. “I say we use the good China tonight. Feels like that kind of night. Will you help me set the table, love?”
My father starts to answer, but Saffron cuts him off, by slipping her hand in his and leading him down the hall to the dining room.
Once they’re out of earshot, I turn to Ellery. “Well that was smooth.”
“Like a cactus,” she agrees, studying me for a moment. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight. Had I known…”
“You’d have high-tailed it out of here?” I grin.
“No.” She unties the apron she’s wearing and sets it down onthe counter. “I would have cleaned up.”
“No need. You look perfect.”
