Page 87 of Voice to Raise
Now, however, I was alone with Mama.
So maybe not so much at ease.
Freddie appeared, eyed the tray of hors d’oeuvres, and his grin widened.
I held it out. “To share.”
He eyed Mama Murthi. “Of course.” He contemplated the tray and almost held it out.
She waved him off.
He scurried away.
I opened the fridge and pulled out a tray of vegetables. “Straight from Mexico.” Cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, as well as slices of cauliflower and broccoli. This tray I’d bought from the store. I removed the plastic seal from the lid, then pushed the entire tray toward her.
“Do you have a fancier plate?”
“What, the plastic container isn’t upscale enough?” I disappeared into the dining room and returned with a china plate with a pink rose pattern with gold trim. At least I knew this didn’t go in the dishwasher.
Mama smiled. “Yes, I can see Mrs. Forestal using that.”
I cocked my head. “You didn’t know her, did you?”
She shook her head. She washed her hands, then with a fork, moved the vegetables to the serving platter—ensuring none of the vegetables mingled. “I did not. But Malik has spoken of her. He probably doesn’t even realize how much he gives away.”
“You’re an easy person to talk to.”
She pointed the fork at me. “You’re a lawyer. You contemplate every word unless you’re extremely excited or agitated.”
I removed a tray of pre-cut fruit. “Be right back.”
“I have your number, Spencer.”
At her words, I smiled. Yes, she did. She really did. I never wanted to face her either at the boardroom table or in a courtroom. She’d likely wipe the floor with me.
I returned with another platter. This one had geometric patterns. I held it up.
“A gift from Reese after last year’s party.”
“Ah. So this truly is Malik’s. I wondered.”
“Smart woman. She spotted him with the floral and decided he needed something of his own.”
I swapped the vegetable platter for the fruit tray and the geometric serving thing. Not quite a tray. Not quite a bowl. Hell, I had less experience with fancy things than most people here. I hadn’t entertained much at my condo. And, of course, I hadn’t used any of this while I was growing up.
Mama washed the fork, then set to work moving the fruit to the platter thingy.
I was about to wander out with the veggie tray when Malik entered holding the empty plate that had held the pigs in a blanket.
“Creed?” Mama arched her eyebrows.
“Nope. I kept him occupied while Freddie passed these around. Creed only got the last one.”
I chuckled. “I bet he’s irritated.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Mama pushed the veggie tray. “Healthy.”
