I said nothing.
“And Sarah loved your potato salad.”
Still nothing.
“And don’t forget the ribs.”
A pause.
“Juicy this time.”
Then she hung up.
I stood in the kitchen staring at my phone.
Something inside me became remarkably calm.
That evening, I told Ethan.
“Your mother is bringing everyone for Fourth of July weekend.”
His face tightened.
“Oh.”
“With all six grandchildren.”
“Oh.”
“And apparently I’m responsible for catering the entire event.”
He slowly closed his laptop.
“Are you okay with this?”
I smiled.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Ethan stared at me.
He knew that smile.
“Claire.”
“Everything is going to be wonderful.”
I MADE A PLAN
Usually, before one of Marlene’s visits, I spent hundreds of dollars.
Meat.
Vegetables.
Drinks.
Snacks.
Desserts.
Breakfast food.
Kid food.
Adult food.
Backup food.
This time?
I bought cucumbers.
Bread.
Tea.
That was basically it.
Friday afternoon arrived.
Three cars rolled down the drive toward Willowcrest Farm.
