“I love you, Mom.” More sniffles.
“I love you, too, sweetheart. Also, maybe save that hair in a baggie. Just in case.”
“Really?”
Cece shrugged even though her daughter couldn’t see her. “You never know. Talk to you soon, okay?”
“Okay. Bye.”
Cece hung up. Not how she’d imagined her day going, but she wasn’t about to leave her daughter hanging. She got up, refilled her coffee cup, grabbed her laptop, and settled in to dig back into her son-in-law’s life.
And if she couldn’t find anything, she was definitely reaching out to Maude. A long blond hair wasn’t proof of anything, but it was certainly suspicious.
She fired up her laptop, entered her password, and opened her browser window. “All right, James Frett. Let’s dig a little deeper.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Essie had a quick breakfast of bran flakes with sliced banana and vanilla almond milk, then got ready and went off to church with her potato salad. She stayed for the luncheon after the service, enjoying the fellowship. So many people asked about Frank. She simply told them he’d gone to visit his daughter.
Once she got home, she changed into comfortable clothes, then, against her better judgment, hopped onto TikTok and checked Sophie’s channel.
There was one new video. It was short and set to a high-tempo pop song Essie didn’t know. The video showed a montage of high-end designer store signs interspersed with Sophie smiling in her sunglasses, sipping a Starbucks cup, applying a designer lipstick, and carrying shopping bags from some of those stores. The only caption readRetail Therapyin sparkly pink font.
Pretty innocuous, except…had Frank taken her shopping to try to smooth things over?
Essie didn’t love that. It felt like rewarding bad behavior. Or possibly a bribe. But Frank was a master negotiator. If he’dthought it was the right way to handle this situation, then Essie wasn’t going to question his decision.
The proof, however, would be in the pudding. Would Sophie really stop posting such mean things? Time would tell.
Essie had no doubt Liliana would be keeping an eye on things, too.
At least Frank would be home today. He’d texted her late last night to say he loved her, missed her, and what time he’d be in. Essie decided to focus on that. She wanted to do something special to welcome him home. He loved flan. He especially lovedherflan. It wasn’t the easiest thing to make but for him, she would do it. A labor of love.
She wanted him to know how much she’d missed him. She’d had fun with the girls, but she could do that with him home, too. And would, now that she’d made those connections. She couldn’t wait to tell him they’d become the reigning champs at trivia night.
Despite the fun she’d had, it had been strange to occupy this space without him. Somehow his absence made the house seem unnaturally quiet. In a small way, it reminded her of grieving Carlos.
Frank obviously wasn’t gone, but that sense of being alone had settled over her in an all too familiar way. Her new friends had helped so much.
She got her old wooden recipe box down and flipped through the cards, some stained, some tattered, some yellowed with age, until she found the one for flan. It was in her mother’s handwriting, copied fromhermother’s recipe.
The flan would need time in the fridge to set up and chill properly, so Essie got to work right away.
As soon as the flan was in the oven, she’d sit and read her book club book. She only had a few chapters left and the next meeting was coming soon. She was already thinking of topicsshe might bring up and plot points she wanted to discuss, plus how she would write up the review she’d promised Cece.
Thinking about that was better than wondering how things had gone with Sophie. The shopping trip had to mean some kind of conclusion had been reached. She was sure Frank would tell her everything when he got home.
She got her oven temperature set, then took out all the ingredients. The custard would be made first, then the caramel. That was always the trickiest part because sometimes sugar had a mind of its own. It was also the time she was most likely to burn herself. Molten sugar was no joke. But it had to be done because the caramel went in the bottom of the pan before the custard. There was just no other way.
She made the custard in the blender. Her grandmother would have thought that was cheating, but it was the easiest method. She added the eggs, egg yolks, salt, sweetened condensed milk, evaporated milk, and vanilla paste, which to her gave the richest vanilla flavor. Once that was all in the pitcher, she pulsed it, careful not to overblend it and get too much froth.
The delicious scent of vanilla wafted up when she opened the lid. She dipped a finger in to taste it, then nodded, satisfied it was right.
There was some froth, but the custard would sit while she made the caramel, so most of the bubbles would pop by the time she was ready for it.
Next came the caramel. It was simple. Water, granulated sugar, and she liked to add a pinch of salt to bring the caramel to life. She gave the pan a little shake, but didn’t stir the mix, just let it sit on the heat and do its thing. Once the sugar was dissolved, it was just a matter of turning up the heat and bringing it to a boil until the syrup turned golden.
Then the heat went down until the gold darkened. As soon as that happened, it was done. The caramel got poured into the baking pan and swirled around to coat the bottom. Essie always wore oven mitts to do that because the heat went straight through the metal.
