Page 26 of Thick and Thin

“What about Chinese?”

“Is that what I smell?”

I nodded. “Yes. Are you up for eating in the kitchen?”

“I can’t just sit here all day long. I need to move. I’ll go wash up and be right there.”

Although I hovered, trying to see how I could help him up, he managed without me. He was still using his walker but did okay shuffling toward the bathroom. So I returned to the kitchen, pausing in the living room to gather his dishes, and found that Sinclair had already removed the boxes out of the bag, placing them on the counter beside the stove. “I wasn’t sure where to put everything.”

The table was full of breakfast—including my untouched plate of French toast and sausage. “Mr. Sherwood interrupted us just as we’d sat down to eat breakfast.”

“It smells good.”

“Just French toast and sausage.”

“When you come back, maybe we could have Edna make that sometime.”

I didn’t know if I’d want that, because it would simply remind me that I wasn’t with my father. I’d never said it to Sinclair or Edna, but, aside from the occasional bagels and cream cheese, tuna fish sandwiches, and mac and cheese she’d spoiled me with, the food she served rarely reminded me of home—and, somehow, that had been a good thing. It had kept me focused…until I’d fallen in love with Sinclair. Then everything had seemed to change.

Still, even now I didn’t want these two worlds to meld. Now that I was back home, it seemed fitting to keep them separate, especially because I didn’t know what the future held.

As I scraped the food off our plates into the trash, though, I didn’t say anything. I put them into the sink and almost scraped off the plate of extra food—the one with four more slices of French toast and two tiny sausage links, but I couldn’t bring myself to toss it wastefully. Instead, I set it on the stove next to the unwashed skillets. Back at the mansion, these few dirty items would have hardly seemed noticeable, I thought, remembering it took the stacks of plates and glasses after Sinclair’s dinner party for his staff to look close to messy.

Here, though, just a few items stuck out like a sore thumb—and I tried not to feel embarrassed or ashamed about it.

Sinclair asked, “Can I help with anything?”

“Sure. You can get plates and silverware out,” I said, indicating the cabinet just above where he’d placed the food.

His offer helped to put me at ease. After putting the butter and syrup away, I wiped off the table and Sinclair put plates in front of three chairs. “Are you okay with water to drink?” I asked, fetching glasses out of the cabinet.

“That’s fine.”

Sinclair took each glass from me as I filled it to place it on the table and, just as we were finishing, my father joined us. Although he was still leaning on his walker, he seemed to have summoned some strength. “I suppose I need to thank you for lunch.”

“No need. I was hungry and thought it would be rude to eat without sharing.” Sinclair took the food from the counter and began placing it on the table. “Lise said you like sesame chicken.”

“Like would be an understatement.”

Sinclair smiled and I said, “Shall we eat?”

We all sat and Sinclair handed my father the container of sesame chicken along with one of the boxes of rice before handing me the chow mein. For a little bit, we were all focused on putting food on our plates, but it felt like, if there had ever been an elephant in the room, we had one now, and it was breathing down our necks.

After piling a modest amount of food on his plate, my father still hadn’t taken a bite. When he spoke, his voice was kind and calm as it often was. “You’re the youngest Whittier?”

“Yes. My name’s Sinclair.”

“Well…even though I dislike how this all came about, I do want to thank you for caring for my daughter over the past few months. The name’s Rowan, by the way.”

I could feel a blush crawling up my neck as I thought my father had no clue about exactly how Sinclair had cared for me after that first kiss. But I instead focused on my fork. Even though I was hungry, I hadn’t taken a bite either.

“What kind of man would I be if I hadn’t?”

Ah…but it hadn’t started out that way, I thought. But then my mind went back over my time there. He’d rescued me that very first night from two scary men who’d meant me harm. And then I remembered when I’d hurt my ankle, how he’d literally picked me up and carried me, getting me the best medical attention I could have ever asked for. Then, of course, he’d covered me on his insurance, made sure I was well fed, and even paid for anything I needed.

He was going to pay for my education…had already paid off the student loans I’d had before coming to his mansion.

He was a good man.

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