Page 6 of Overdue

I haven’t heard from Reed since he came to the library, but it doesn’t matter. I’m cooking this meal to help a neighbor in need. Not to get a glimpse of the man who insists on strutting through my dreams for the last two nights.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to help you?” Mom has been watching me pace in front of the oven with barely concealed amusement for at least twenty minutes now. She’s trying to hide it by pretending to read a book.

It’s the biggest drawback to living with your parents. They’re always around. I tried to convince Eliot to let me live with her. She didn’t hesitate to say ‘no.’ She has a tiny apartment, so she probably knew we would kill each other. I love my sister, but I’ve never had to share a bedroom with her.

“Nope. I’m good.” I left work early, the library in the capable hands of the two part-time employees. It gave me plenty of time to get everything ready. I

called the Campbells’ house this morning to ask if I could bring over dinner, much to the amusement of Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Harbour. I’m just impressed Reed is organized enough to hire someone to help his grandmother while he’s at work.

“So, did you pick something with Reed in mind?” Mom asks.

“No. Why would you think that?” The woman is completely mental if she thinks I’m trying to impress Reed. She knows our history. Pshh, Reed. I’d roll my eyes, but I once got grounded for doing that. “I’m simply helping out Mrs. Campbell. I thought she would enjoy something different from whatever her stupid grandson heats in the microwave.”

I can see the laughter in Mom’s eyes.

“I mean, he’s welcome to some too, of course,” I continue. “But I’m sure he would much rather sit around crushing beer cans with his forehead.”

Mom covers her mouth with a hand. She’s not fooling anyone. She told me once, when Reed and I had had a particularly rough fight, that she didn’t like Dad all that much the first time she met him. I get that. Dad is kind of a nerd. But she’s crazy if she thinks it’s the same thing.

“It smells good.” She never could understand the problem between Reed and me. Some people just aren’t meant to get along. She found Dad’s nerdiness endearing in the end. Reed’s assholeness is not endearing by any means.

“Thank you.” The casserole is finally done. I ease it out of the oven and into the koozie to keep it warm. The bread can sit on top, so I can carry it with one hand. It leaves me free to carry the pie in the other.

“Let me get the door,” Mom says, hopping up.

“I’ll be back in a moment.” I barely have room to brush past Mom and out the front door.

“No hurry,” Mom calls. I roll my eyes this time since she can’t see my face.

I successfully negotiate the handful of steps off the front porch. Now I have to focus on not falling on anything between here and the house at the end of the block. That singular focus is how I almost run over Reed walking from the other direction. I look up just in time to avoid a wreck.

“Really? Crushing beer cans with my forehead?” he says, brushing his hair out of his eyes with a grin. Is it possible for him to even look crappy? It’s stupid how sexy he is.

“How? You know what, never mind.” Mom must have Mrs. Campbell on speed dial.

“Gran sent me to help. She said you were bringing supper?” Reed surveys my impressive balancing act. “You cooked all this?”

“Well, yes. I just thought I would do something to help. Your grandmother, that is.” If he would quit looking at me with those damn mesmerizing eyes, maybe I could form at least one intelligent thought. “Not you.”

“Damn, that’s harsh, brat. I guess I don’t have to worry about food poisoning that way. Do I need to make a preemptive appointment with the ambulance service for Gran?” Oh, that’s right, he’s a complete jerk. That overrides a pair of stunning eyes any day of the week.

“Don’t be a dick. You know what I meant. Do you think you can get the pie or would that be too much for your brain power?”

“Now who’s being a dick? I’ll choose the casserole instead. I don’t want to be anywhere near that pie.” He lifts the casserole from my arms.

“Oh. My. God. It was one time!”

He laughs and turns back down the sidewalk.

* * *

Mom has made two pies out of fresh blueberries she picked up at the farmers’ market earlier this morning. She offered to let me help, but I’d rather sit at the kitchen bar with a book.

I alternate between watching Mom mix the dough and learning about the spice trade on the planet Arrakis. The Dune series might also be a little beyond my comprehension. It’s soooo long. Maybe I should just go back to Nancy Drew for a while.

“Austen, can you run one of these pies to the Campbells in a few minutes, please?” Mom asks, taking the first of the pies out of the oven.

“Mommm,” It’s impressive how long I can drag a word out. Is she insane? I might run into Reed, who insists on torturing me at every opportunity. “Why do I have to do it? How come Eliot never has to do anything?”

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