AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks,” Susan says. She sounds less than enthusiastic.
“I’ll coordinate with you,” Ollie says. “I’ve been wondering how we could take the car down without help.”
“Don’t worry about it at all,” Kevin says. “Well, I better get going. I need to get back to Wishing before it grows any darker.”
“Drive safe,” I say. Kevin waves as he backs the snowplow and disappears down the bend.
“Do you think he thought anything was weird?” Ollie asks. “You know, when you mentioned the car.”
“What does it matter?” Susan says rather snappishly before heading back into the house. Ollie and I each carry a grocery bag into the house. I point my thumb at Susan. “What’s up with her?”
“No clue,” Ollie says. “Susan is hard to read sometimes. She’s so unpredictable.”
“I think every writer has a bit of crazy in them. That’s how they become great storytellers,” Ed says.
All three of us chuckle at that.
Susan stands at the door, hands on her hips. “Are you coming in, or do you want to freeze to death outside?”
“Wow, someone has their nerves pinched,” Ollie mutters under his breath.
I chuckle at his words. Is this how it feels to be…domesticated? I like this feeling of having a woman around, and not just to warm my bed. Susan is so much more than that. More than just a friend.
What is this feeling? It’s definitely more than the base attraction I felt toward her back when I first saw her at the gas station. I want to bring this up with my brothers and see where their thoughts are, but without freaking them out.
We gather around the kitchen counter, examining the groceries Kevin brought. There’s bread, cheese, some cans of soup, and a few other essentials. It’s not an extravagant feast, but it’s enough.
“All this food is suddenly making me very hungry,” Ollie says, rubbing his stomach.
“I can make a grilled cheese sandwich and a hearty tomato soup to go with it.” Susan offers. “It’s a pick-me-up my mom used to make whenever I or my brother got sick.”
“You have a brother?” I ask, surprised.
She nods. “Yeah, he lives in Europe now and owns some hotshot art museum. We meet a few times a year.”
I watch as Susan begins to gather ingredients, her movements graceful and purposeful. The clinking of pots and pans, the sound of the knife slicing through the vegetables, and the aroma of simmering broth fill the air. The kitchen is alive with the sizzling of onions and the bubbling of the broth.
I stand at the counter next to her, inhaling the delicious aroma. “So your mom used to only make this when you were sick?”
Susan shakes her head. “Sometimes, my brother and I would insist she make it for dinner.”
My phone pings with a notification. It’s a Google alert I set up for the Conservatory project. Applications are open, and the deadline is in ten days. My heart thunders in my chest, but Susan’s voice distracts me as she continues to talk. I put the phone away, making a point to send in the application later. I still have enough time.
“Did you have a big family growing up?” Ollie asks.
“We didn’t all live together, but they lived nearby—some in the same town or even the nearby county. We always made sure to get together once in a while.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I murmur.
Susan nods, getting this faraway look on her face. “One tradition that stands out is our Sunday family dinners. Every week, we would gather around the table and my mom would prepare a feast. It was a time for us to connect, share stories, and simply enjoy each other’s company.”
“What’s your favorite thing to cook?” Ed asks.
“Probably my mom’s lasagna,” Susan answers. “It takes a while to make, but it’s worth it in the end.”
“I love lasagna,” Artie says with a smile. “Maybe you can make it for us one day.”
“I’d love to,” Susan replies. “I think I have a recipe in my—” She suddenly seems to realize something.
