Page 24 of Cooking Up My Comeback
I smile, soft and wistful. “This kitchen feels haunted in the best way.”
“You’re lucky you had her.”
“I am. But I miss her. Her and Grandpa. I know it’s been five years since she’s been gone, but some days it feels strange to be the only one left in this house.”
“You’re not alone. You’ve got your boys. And her recipes. And this kitchen that’s seen three generations of your family create magic.”
I glance at the faded photograph on the fridge. Grandma and Grandpa, sunburned and grinning after a day of fishing.
“I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
“Then we figure it out and try again. You don’t have to do everything alone anymore, Amber. That’s the point.”
She grabs a spoon and dips it into my aioli. Her eyes close, and she makes a sound like she’s having a religious experience.
“You really were meant to do this.”
For just a second, I let myselfbelieve her.
After Hazel leaves, I get the boys fed, bathed, and tucked into bed. Mason’s snoring like a tiny bear, and Crew’s clutching his flashlight, whispering horseshoe crab facts to himself.
I stand in their doorway, watching them. There’s sand everywhere. Their beach bags are half-unpacked downstairs, and Mason probably smuggled home three shells and possibly a hermit crab. Crew’s got his fishing magazine tucked under his pillow—the same one Dad gave him last month.
But they’re safe. They’re happy. And today felt like a shift.
I head back to the kitchen to clean up. Grandma’s recipe card is still out, so I tuck it gently back into the tin, patting the lid like I’m tucking her memory in for the night.
This room has fed generations. It’s held grief and joy and laughter so loud it made the windows shake. Maybe it can hold one more dream.
Before I can second-guess myself, I grab my phone.
What do you say to someone who witnessed your debit card drama and then helped your kids build sand castles like he belonged there?
I settle on simple:
Me: Thank you for the flip-flops. And for being kind to the boys today.
The reply comes faster than expected:
Brett: They’re great kids. Mason’s got serious excavation skills.
I find myself smiling despite everything.
Me: He’s been perfecting his technique all summer! You should see his backyard archaeological dig.
Brett: Sounds dangerous.
Me: Only if you count three holes and one very confused earthworm as dangerous.
Brett: I’ve seen construction sites with less ambition.
There’s something dry about his humor that makes me want to poke at it.
Me: Crew knows more about marine biology than most college students too.
