Page 105 of Call Back

“I’ll help, but it might be safer if I’m a bystander rather than a contributor.”

“Nonsense.” She waved one hand in dismissal as she handed me a glass of white wine with the other. “I know it’s customary to serve red with salmon, but I think the lime and cilantro warrant the Pinot Gris.”

“Belinda.”

Her eyes lifted to mine.

“You don’t have to put on an act with me.”

Her eyes widened, and the horrified look on her face made me think I’d said the wrong thing, but then tears filled her eyes. “I know. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

I thought she might elaborate, but she just took a more-than-healthy gulp of her wine. When she set the glass down and opened the fridge, it was akin to saying we’d put the subject to bed. For now. “I know Lila insists you’re hopeless in the kitchen, but I refuse to believe it.”

“I made scones with Ava for Bible study this morning,” I said. “She directed me, but I made them. Even Colt thought they were good.”

She grinned. “Colt would eat shoe leather and think it was good as long as it was free, but the fact Ava Milton served them at her infamous Bible study is the sure sign they were a success. All the more reason for you to help.”

“Why are you and Colt at odds?” The question gushed out.

She stood in front of her open fridge and glanced over her shoulder at me. “What makes you think we’re at odds?”

“Little things you’ve said here and there. And the fact you think it’s a bad idea for me to be his friend.”

“It’s more like I worry about you. I know Colt’s reputation.”

“I’m a big girl. I know he’s incapable of a relationship. I’m not interested in him that way.”

She didn’t respond. I nearly protested more but realized I’d only incriminate myself, especially since I knew I really did have feelings for him. I was pretty near to babbling as it was.

“So tell me what to do.”

* * *

We made the dish together, Belinda leading me the whole time, and by the time the salmon was finished baking, we’d prepared the jasmine rice and finished our bottle of wine.

Belinda opened a new bottle and refilled both of our glasses, then set the table, complete with cloth napkins and perfect place settings.

I watched open-mouthed as she carefully plated the food on a platter, but then I realized something—this perfection was so ingrained in her, she couldn’t help herself. I took the spatula she was using to scoop out the salmon and pushed her to the side. “I’m taking over. Go sit down.”

She gasped, but picked up her wine and the newly opened bottle and sat down.

Knowing full well she was watching, I scooped a piece of salmon and dumped it on top of the piece that was already on the plate before setting the dish on the table.

Belinda looked horrified when I set it down in front her. She started to reach for the serving spoon, but I lightly slapped her hand. “Don’t you dare touch that.”

Then I set the pot of rice on the table, using a dishtowel as a trivet.

“Magnolia!”

For the pièce de résistance, I ripped two paper towels off the roll and stole the cloth napkin out of her lap, replacing it with the paper.

“Is this some kind of protest?” she asked, her words slightly slurred.

I sat in the chair across from her, suddenly feeling sad. “No, Belinda. This is how normal people eat.”

Tears filled her eyes again, but this time she gave in to them. “Damn you, Magnolia,” she said, but it lacked the venom to hurt.

“You said you wanted to talk to me about Roy, but we just made this delicious dinner and I don’t want any talk of him to ruin it. So I say we eat and then we can talk.”

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