Page 77 of The Hitchhikers
He frowned. “Why can’t they make their own meals?”
“Don’t know, but this way I can make sure we get food and water.” She got to her feet.
“There’s the fixings for a casserole,” Ruth said. “Cooked a chicken up yesterday.”
“Can you ask about the animals?” William said, awake now. “Raccoons will kill the chickens if they’re out all night.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Bones needs to go outside, and he’s got to be fed too,” Ruth said.
“What’s taking so damn long?” Simon shouted again. “I can hear you talking.”
“I’m coming,” Alice yelled back. Bones lifted his head, watching her. “Do you want dinner?” With that, he got to his feet, stretched with a long groan, and followed her up the stairs.
Alice thought Simon might complain about the dog, but when she and Bones reached the top, Simon greeted him like an old friend, scratching around his neck, and rubbing his ears.
Jenny was curled up on the sofa in the living room, readinga book, a glass of iced tea in front of her. She shot Alice a quick glare, then shifted so that Alice could no longer see her face. A basket of folded clothes rested by her feet. They’d done laundry. How nice.
Alice didn’t think Jenny had told Simon about their earlier conversation. Simon would be a lot angrier. Simon dropped the hatch and pushed back the table and chairs.
He walked toward the back porch, patting the side of his hip. “Come on, boy.” Bones trotted after him and Simon opened the door. Bones disappeared into the soft evening light.
“I like that dog.” Simon stared into the backyard. “We should take him with us.” He yelled out, “What do you say, Bones? Want to go on a road trip?” Simon laughed and looked at Alice like he expected her to join in. She turned away.
The kitchen was tidy, their plates and glasses from earlier drying in the rack. She assumed Jenny had cleaned up. After being in the cool basement, the kitchen felt even hotter. The floor fan was running at top speed, but it was only blowing warm air around.
Simon dropped into one of the chairs and kicked his sneakers up onto the table.
“Hand me a beer.”
Alice got one out of the fridge and passed it to him. He took a bottle opener out of his pocket and easily popped the cap off, spinning it from his fingers across the kitchen. It landed somewhere in the corner. She wondered how many he’d had that afternoon.
“How are the repairs going?”
“They’re going.” He held her gaze and took a long slug of beer.
“What does that mean?”
“That means none of your business. Now get cooking.”
Alice sighed and opened the fridge, spying the roast chicken.A casserole would be easy, but she didn’t relish the idea of working around a hot oven. She glanced over at Simon. Then again, he’d have to suffer in the heat too. Maybe he’d drink himself into a stupor.
Alice found a casserole dish in the cupboard and gathered ingredients. She felt strange, like a trespasser, moving around in Ruth’s kitchen, with Ruth’s tidy handwriting on recipe cards, her red checkered apron on a hook, all the while the woman was trapped in her own basement.
A Tupperware container of blackberry oatmeal cookies was on the counter, the clear lid resting loosely on top. Alice pressed around the edges to seal it.
She pulled open drawers until she found the one with cutlery, and noticed immediately that there were no knives. She checked the drawer next to it and found ladles, whisks, spatulas.
She looked over her shoulder at Simon, who smirked at her.
“They’re all gone,” he said.
Alice turned back around. If he choked on a large piece of chicken, it would serve him right. Without knives, Alice was forced to be creative with other kitchen utensils, but she managed to put together a somewhat messy chicken pasta casserole. While it baked, she fed Bones kibble she found in the pantry, then she asked Simon about the farm animals.
“They need to be taken care of.”
“I don’t trust that old man.”
