Page 49 of Bewitched & Bewildered
But it’s home.
I inhale deeply as I follow my mother into the kitchen. “Did you make bread?”
“I did—and an extra loaf for you to take home.”
“Perfect. I bought a loaf from Greene’s the other day, but?—”
“Oh, you can stick that one in the freezer. Take it out again when you need more bread. You can never have enough bread.”
I spent years living on my own, but my mother still treats me like I just moved out. Not that I’m complaining. Some people don’t have the nurturing my ma tries to offer me.
“I’ll be sure to do that,” I say.
She shuffles to the kitchen, where my father is already waiting.
“I hope I’m not late.” I settle into my usual seat.
Our kitchen table is the same round table that’s been here since I was a kid. It wobbles slightly, but not enough for my father to fix it.
If they let me, I’ll do the job before I leave for the night.
“You’re right on time.” She scoops a heaping spoon of mashed potatoes onto my plate.
“You’re late bymymeasure,” my dad grumbles. I know it’s playful. “I’ve been waiting to eat.”
“You’ve been waiting five minutes!” my mother says. “And you’ll be grateful for it later. You were going to burn your mouth, mark my words.”
Soon, my plate is full of breaded chicken, steamed vegetables, and more potatoes than any man can eat alone. I’ll do my best to gobble it all up. It makes my mom happy when I do.
“How’s the shop?” my dad asks. “There’s a huge crowd every time I pass by.”
“That means it’s going well,” my mom says.
“It is,” I say. “I never thought I would be this successful, but…”
“We told you!” My mother beams. “You can thank me for the million-dollar business idea.”
“Okay, I don’t know about a million dollars…” I chuckle.
“People need their stuff,” my dad says.
“Right.” I hesitate, cutting off a piece of chicken. “Did you know Mrs. Hawthorne passed? That’s why the old apothecary shut down.”
My parents exchange a look.
“You know,” my mother says, “I heard about that.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me before I opened the apothecary?” I frown. “That would have been helpful.”
“It slipped my mind,” she says. “You know how it is. Something is big news one day, and something else comes along the next.”
Someone dying isn’t gossip. It isn’t something anyone should forget about when the next ‘thing’ comes along. I grind my teeth.
I let the conversation drop, popping the rosemary chicken into my mouth.
“Everyone is asking about Vanessa,” my dad says.
I freeze. “What?”
