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“But you have an assistant, right? If you ever need someone else to come help out, get coffee ... I have a beak coming up at school and wouldn’t mind interning for a semester.”
“I don’t think that’ll look good on your vet school resume. Besides, Mom would never forgive me.” I step aside to keep him from pushing me any farther into the kitchen and turn around to look for our mom.
“Fiona. You made it. Come here. Give your mama a hug.” My mother stands behind the large island that holds an enormous amount of half-prepared food.
“Hi, Mama. You didn’t have to go through all this trouble. I’m only here for a day.” I walk over and embrace her. Her warm vanilla scent and the feeling of her canvas apron brushing against my skin feel like home.
“I know, sweetie. That’s why we have to make every minute count. Your brothers and sisters will be here soon. I have cinnamon rolls backing.”
I smile. Besides everything else, she’s making my favorite food. The scent of the sweet rolls baking wafts through the kitchen when she opens the oven door to check on them.
“I can’t wait. What can I do to help?” I grab an apron and fasten it around my waist.
She puts me to work, and we chat as we chop and cook and bake until enough food to feed a small army.
“You really didn’t have to do all this, Mom,” I say once I’ve finally convinced her to sit with cup of tea while I do the dishes.
“Of course, I did. It’s been too long since I’ve been able to spoil my little girl.” She smiles at me across her mug.
“I’m the oldest, Mom.” I rinse the last of the pots and set it to the side to air dry.
“By fifteen minutes. Besides, you’ll always be my baby girl. Nothing’s changing that. And it’s not like you’re in a hurry to settle down and give me grandkids.”
I groan. “You’ve got Gwen for that. I’m sure she and Greg will give you grandbabies in no time. I’m focusing on my career for a while. If and when the right man comes along ...” I might consider starting a family.
“I thought you had. Have you heard from Joe?”
“I have. We’re working together, and I gave him a ride out here. I should go put my stuff upstairs before everyone gets here.” I run out of the kitchen and spend more time than necessary unpacking the few clothes I’ve brought with me to avoid continuing this conversation. It’s the one thing I refuse to talk about, and I wish my family would finally accept that.
To my relief, the house is packed by the time I make it back downstairs. I’m hugged by my remaining siblings and my dad.
“Grandma. It’s good to see you. How are things across the lake?” I link my arm into hers, and we walk out to the covered patio where my sisters are busy setting the table.
“It’s going well. So far my garden is surviving the heat. I brought okra and green beans. If you hurry, there might be some left in the kitchen.” She squeezes my hand and waits for me to rush off.
“That’s okay. Let them have it. I don’t have much time to cook for myself.” When I’m in Wilmington, I eat most of my meals out. Lunch is whatever I can grab and eat at my desk, and most dinners are work affairs. On the rare occasion that I have a night off and to myself, it’s Thai takeout and Netflix.
“You need to take better care of yourself, honey. And eat some actual food.” She shakes her head.
“I do, Grandma. I promise. There are some good farm-to-table restaurants in Wilmington. The green beans aren’t as good as yours and no one grows tomatoes that taste as amazing, but it’s good food. Come for a visit, and I’ll take you around.” She’d love to talk to Chad at Rooted.
“We’ll see. Maybe I can get one of your sisters to drive me out there once the summer garden is done. Too much canning and preserving to do until then.”
I take her to her seat and walk back into the kitchen to help my mom and half of my siblings carry the food out.
The topic of my lack of attachments doesn’t come up again until we’ve made a serious dent into the food spread out in front of us.
“Whatever happened to that nice young man who was courting you?” my grandmother asks. “What was his name? Joseph?”
“Joe. Joe McAlister. Greg’s younger brother.” My mother smiles at her future son-in-law. He and Gwen are getting married later this summer, and I realize with dread that it means spending even more time with Joe.
“When are you going back to Wilmington?” Peter asks, glancing at me. He’s always been the most intuitive and empathetic of my siblings, and I’m grateful for the change of subject.
“Joe, do you need another ride?” I ask when he calls while I’m helping my mother and sister clean up the kitchen. The rest of the family is spread across couches and any other comfortable surface they can find, doing their best not to pass out after the insane amount of food we’ve all consumed.
“No, thanks. The Mustang cranked right up.”
“What’s up then? Anything that can wait until tomorrow?” Or Monday. After our road trip, I’m in no hurry to spend more time with him.
