Page 24 of Perfect Imperfections

“Lead the way.”

He took her out of the entryway, showing her the living room complete with gas fireplace, a window seat she’d love to spend an afternoon reading on, and dark leather furniture that looked like it came straight from those expensive home redecorating shows her mother loved to watch. Next, he pointed out the guest bathroom, which, despite not having a shower or tub, was bigger than the one bathroom in her apartment. In fact, her entire apartment could probably fit in the living room and entryway alone.

They passed the stairs to the second floor, where he mentioned the bedrooms and his home office location. Finally, they made it to the dining room where Ellie was currently sitting at the table, El sitting in the seat next to her with a banana on the plate in front of her.

“Is El joining us for dinner?” Sullivan asked his daughter, winking at Ellie as he showed her where to sit and headed into the kitchen that was visible through the large open doorway.

“Yes, but she only eats bananas because she’s an elephant.” Charlotte nodded, then quickly backtracked. “And peanuts. Bananas and peanuts.”

Ellie took a seat at the dining table, noticing the cheerfully colored yellow tablecloth with white daisies and the three place settings. Two in a beautiful bone ivory color and one plastic clown face child’s plate. Choosing to take the seat on the other side of Charlotte—the one not occupied by a stuffed animal—Ellie once again noticed how different she and the Greens lived. She didn’t even think she owned a tablecloth. Her plates were dollar-bin plastic. Dishwasher, and microwave safe out of necessity.

“Actually, Charlotte. Elephants can eat up to three hundred and seventy-five pounds of vegetation every day.”

The little girl’s jaw dropped open and her brow furrowed. “What’s vegetation?”

“Things like plants, grass, fruit, twigs, tree bark, even some roots.”

“Wow. They must fart a lot. Joey Freemont says vegetables make you fart, and that’s why he doesn’t eat them.” She leaned in close and whispered. “But I think he eats them anyway because I’ve heard him fart in class and it’s smelly.”

“Charlotte.” Sullivan called from the kitchen.

“Oops, I’m not supposed to talk about farting at the table.”

Huh, she wondered how many times the girl had brought up the topic before that it had to become a rule. Seemed like an odd thing to want to discuss, but then again, she was seven. Bodily functions were all the rage at that age if Ellie remembered correctly.

“Sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s okay.” Sullivan entered the room again, arms full of serving dishes.

“Oh, let me help you.” She started to rise but sat back down when Sullivan shook his head.

“You’re the guest, besides I can handle this. I used to be a waiter in college.”

“You were?” Somehow, she couldn’t imagine Dr. Green taking orders at the local burger joint.

“Yup. Med school isn’t cheap.”

So she’d heard. She’d also heard doctors made out like kings after a few years of practice. Looking around the place, she guessed it must be true. Still, it made her feel a little better knowing Sullivan had endured his share of roughing it. Maybe they had more in common than she thought.

“Dinner is served.”

She glanced down at the serving dishes Sullivan had placed on the table. Delicious aromas wafted from the food. Garlic and butter flew up her nostrils, making her mouth water as she spied some golden slices of garlic bread. A large wooden bowl held crisp-looking leafy greens, red cherry tomatoes, thin slices of bright orange carrot, and chunks of white, which she assumed to be feta. The last platter held three yellow and black speckled chicken breasts, steam still rising off the meat.

“Charlotte?”

Sullivan grabbed a serving fork, holding his free hand out. Charlotte passed her plate along, thanking her father as he piled it high with food. When he held his hand out to her, Ellie did the same. Extending her plate for him to serve. So far, this night had gone nothing like she feared, thank goodness. Once everyone had their dinner served, Sullivan took a seat opposite her and Charlotte.

“Dig in, everyone.”

No one argued.

Ellie cut into her chicken, the tender meat slicing with the barest of pressure. The second it hit her tongue; the flavor exploded. Sharp, spicy pepper combined with the tangy, tart lemon and moist juices of the chicken to create the most wonderful zest.

“Wow! Sullivan, this is amazing.”

“Surprised I can cook?”

Honestly, a little. She expected him to have a chef or something. Didn’t all doctors have that? Her father had never cooked a day in her life. The only thing she’d ever seen the old man heat was coffee. Her mother cooked all the meals when she was a child. Tried to teach her, but after one fateful night when Ellie almost blew up the oven, her mother had declared her a lost cause in the kitchen. Thank goodness for takeout and cereal, or she’d starve to death.

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