“Do you mind if I cook it?”
“Be my guest.”
The invitation tumbled out, unbidden.“Will you join us for dinner?”
Paul shifted his weight from one foot to the other.“Is your brother coming?”
“Why?You don’t like him?”
“He’s okay.”
She smiled at his begrudging tone.“It can be just me and Emily, if you prefer.”
“Fine,” he said, and seemed annoyed about something.“What time?”
“Seven.”
He nodded and walked away without another word.She watched, bemused, as he took the path through the trees toward the dock.A few minutes later, she heard the puttering sound of the boat engine.He wasn’t an easy man to read.Maybe she shouldn’t have issued the invite, but what else could she do?He’d apologized.They’d reached an understanding.She was cooking the food he’d purchased, in a cabin she’d yanked out from underneath him.
She grumbled under her breath as she went inside.After this dinner, they were square.He could be a grumpy recluse for the rest of the summer with zero interference from her.She didn’t need to beg for his company—or anything else.
Emily roused from her nap in front of the TV and demanded lemonade.Vanessa gave her a glass of orange juice instead.Then she asked to go swimming, so they donned suits and spent an hour at the lake.Emily had noticed other children using floating devices, rubber tubes and animal shapes.Vanessa promised to buy her one tomorrow.They returned to the cabin to bathe.Vanessa took the time to shave her legs and moisturize her skin.
She wasn’t primping for Paul, of course.She just wanted to pamper herself after several days of roughing it at the campground.She donned a pair of jean shorts and a sleeveless shirt with a sunflower on the front.
Let summer officially begin!
She started making chicken fajitas because all of the ingredients were there.Paul didn’t have any salsa, but that was okay.She could ask Jackson to bring some tomorrow.She used a cast-iron skillet to give the meat and vegetables a nice sear.While that was simmering, she heated up a half-dozen flour tortillas.
Paul arrived a few minutes before seven.Emily let him in, chattering about Penelope and the lemon pirates.They gathered around the kitchen table.Vanessa transferred the skillet to the table, along with the tortillas.
“That’s hot,” she said to Emily.“Don’t touch it.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
“What do you want to drink?”Vanessa asked Paul.
“Water is fine.”
She filled three cups with ice water and sat down between Paul and Emily.She scooped chicken into a tortilla for Emily, who demanded a fajita with “no veggies.”Then she served herself, and let Paul do the same.They proceeded with the meal in a stilted fashion that reminded her of the lunch with her father.
The food was good; the conversation wasn’t.
Vanessa didn’t care.She was too hungry to act dainty.She ate two fajitas in rapid succession.Paul followed suit.When she offered him the last tortilla, he took it.He made a third fajita and finished it with obvious relish.
“That was delicious,” Paul said.
“Thanks.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“My dad taught me,” she said, sipping water.“It used to be our thing.We cooked together a lot when I was a kid.”
“We went to Grandpa’s house today,” Emily announced.“Mommy said a bad word.”
Vanessa gave Emily a warning look.“Mommy’s going to say another bad word if you don’t eat your dinner.”
“I don’t like it,” Emily said.“Can I have a quesadilla?”
