Page 49 of When the Smoke Clears

“I don’t know why, but you two both seem content to take care of others without letting them in. The ranch hands respect Sutton, and I think they’d like to think of him as a friend, but he keeps them at arm’s length.” She mulls over her words. “But maybe that’s changing. They’ve shown concern over you, and that may be enough to set him on the right course.”

I cock my head. “Why are they worried about me?”

She raises an eyebrow at me, in a way I suspect she looks at her own children. “You two sure are cut from the same cloth.” She breathes a laugh and shakes her head. “They’re aware something happened last weekend. This ranch is home to them, and we take care of our own around here.”

Once again, I’m struck by being surrounded by people who are genuine in their care for me. People I barely know who worry about me, while my own mother kept the Great Wall between us.

I sigh. “I have close friends. Not many, but I do.”

“I’m not judging you, sweetheart,” she promises. “Sutton has friends, too. The fact remains that you two could stand to let some others into your circle. Or let your circle in more, for that matter.” She’s not the first person to say something similar.

She scrubs the long counter close to the dining room and starts pulling out ingredients.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m going to make some pasta. I haven’t made homemade pasta in a while, and I’m in the mood for some.” The smile on her face is serene, just for her.

“Sounds delicious.”

She dumps an ample amount of flour onto the counter, creating a large dome. It reminds me a bit of making a volcano in school. She spreads a hole in the middle. “Have you ever made homemade pasta?”

I shake my head, even though she hasn’t looked away from her new creation. “No. Nana taught me her chicken noodle recipe, but we never made pasta from scratch. Just bagged egg noodles.”

Andi smirks at me. “I know she knew how to make pasta from scratch.” She’s steadily cracking eggs.

“I’m sure. We were teenagers during the lesson, so as special as it was, she probably took a shortcut on that step.” I smile, thinking about my best friends and me in Nana’s homey kitchen; the distinct scents of fresh vegetables and chicken stock are almost close enough to be real again. “Actually, I’d love to make a large batch for everyone. Whenever it would be helpful to you.”

Andi beams over her shoulder. The flour puffs and kisses her cheek as she turns. “That would be lovely!”

A shrill ringing fills the air and I jump. Andi, elbow-deep in the dough she’s creating, peeks over her shoulder again. “Would you mind grabbing that, dear?” She nods at the aging phone hanging on the wall.

“Uh, sure.” The phone trills again before I can remove it from the cradle. “Hello?”

“Uh…hi? Did I—” A young female voice hesitates on the other line.

“Are you trying to reach the Strickland residence?”

“Yes.” Her statement is almost a question, and her tone changes from confused to suspicious. “Who is this?”

“This is Maci.” Eyeing Andi from where I stand, she hums as she presses the dough. I shift on my feet.

“Maci? This is Sammi. You’re Sutton’s girlfriend.” Excitement sneaks in at the end, and a blush coats my skin. My heart rate picks up and I smile stupidly.

“Yes. Hi, Sammi.”

“Hi, honey!” Andi yells from her place but doesn’t clean her hands. Apparently, she’s not in a hurry to chat.

“My parents are the only people I know who have a landline; I’m not used to hearing a different voice on the line. Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. I should’ve announced the house name.”

Sammi chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. What are y’all up to today?”

Is this small talk? Shouldn’t she be asking for Andi? “Um, well, your mom is currently elbow-deep in pasta dough.” Gripping the dangling cord in one hand, I twirl my pointer finger in and out of the permanent ringlets.

“I’m so jealous. Mama’s pasta is to die for.”

“I haven’t had anything that’s less than amazing,” I agree. “Did she teach you, too?”

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