Lulu's Loves by Barbara S Stewart Page B

after dinner. Last night, I’d prepared the chicken, spinach, and Swiss cheese roll-ups. They were ready to pop in the oven thirty minutes before I was ready to serve. The salad was waiting in the refrigerator. All that was left was the mushroom cream sauce. Dad would be home by six. Thom would arrive any moment. I was anxious I watched the clock, thinking the minutes were crawling. I wanted this to be perfect.
     
    I was in the kitchen when there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Thom.
    He grabbed me, lifting me off my feet to hug me. “Hello, beautiful!”
    “Hello, handsome,” I laughed. “Come on in. Dad will be here in about an hour. Join me in the kitchen; I’m attempting a mushroom cream sauce.”
    “I can do it,” Thom said as he followed me.
    “No.” I turned to look at him. “Here’s the thing. I can boil water. I can cook basic things. You make me want to branch out and try something new.”
    “Oh, Lulu, how you tease me.”
    “Stop it!” I laughed. “You’re such a good cook, I want to show you that I can do it. My dad too, actually.”
    As we headed to the kitchen, he stopped by a table in the hallway. I saw him pick it up. He was holding a picture of Dad, Mom, and me before she got sick.
    “You look like her.”
    “My dad says the same thing. Come on,” I said, reaching for his hand.
    We sat at the kitchen table for a little while, talking. Finally, I looked at the clock and knew that I needed to start. I had everything ready. I put the butter in the pan and lightly sifted the flour in, stirring. I added chopped mushrooms, while Thom watched. I was adding the cream when Dad came in through the garage door.
    “Dad – Thom. Thom – Dad. I can’t stop stirring this!”
    My dad extended his hand and Thom accepted it in a firm handshake.
    “Dale Welk; it’s a pleasure to meet you. Is she cooking?” Dad peeked over my shoulder. “Grab a camera quick,” he joked.
    “Thom Miller. I take it this is a momentous occasion,” he laughed.
    I removed the pot of sauce and took the chicken out of the oven. “It’s all about timing. I got this!” I poured the sauce over the chicken and placed it back in the oven.
    “Thom, grab that salad, please. I even made a homemade vinaigrette.” I was so proud, I thought I’d bust. I poured the water off the pasta and sent the men to the table with the salad. I thought this would give them a moment to talk.
    I dished up the food, sprinkling chopped chives on top and carried their plates to them. Dad opened the bottle of wine Thom brought and was pouring it when I set their plates down. I returned to the kitchen to get mine.
    “Lulu, this is lovely.” My dad beamed, looking at the meal I’d prepared.
    “This? Oh, it was nothing,” I giggled.
    Thom was the first to take a bite of salad. “This vinaigrette is so different…”
    “It’s her mother’s recipe,” Dad said as he took a bite.
    “Half warm bacon drippings, half olive oil, and then the red wine vinegar and seasonings,” I said, watching my dad.
    “This is a nice surprise, Lulu.” He rose and came to my seat to kiss my cheek.
    I put my arms around his neck to hug him.
    I saw Thom out of the corner of my eye. I could see his emotions as my dad and I shared this moment.
    “It’s delicious,” Dad said, finally. “It’s my favorite. I haven’t had it in a very long time.”
    We made small talk about the day, my job and my dad’s, and Thom talked about St. Augustine.
    “It’s a beautiful place and this is the perfect time of year. Late September isn’t too hot,” I said.
    “Everything was delicious, Lulu,” Thom said. He helped me carry dishes to the kitchen.
    “Please go sit with my dad for a few minutes; it won’t take me long.”
    I heard them talking and it made me smile. My dad was telling him about some places we should go to in St. Augustine when I entered the room.
    “It’s getting late,” Dad, said. “You probably want to be tourists for a