returned the salute.
Sandra called Laura from the car. “I’m calling to invite myself over.”
“Good. I need someone to test my new casserole.”
“As long as it isn’t tuna.” Sandra detested tuna casserole.
“Would I feed you tuna casserole?”
“I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
Sandra felt the tension draining away asshe drove out of the city. She was actually smiling by the time she pulled into Laura’s
driveway.
The small, blue cottage sat in a grove of oak trees. After she parked her car, Sandra stood by it and closed her eyes, listening to the wind in the trees. It was such a peaceful sound. She continued to listen until she heard the closing of the front door. She opened her eyes and found Laura watching her from the front steps.
“I sometimes think this place is the closest thing I’ve ever known to a real home,” Sandra said, walking to Laura.
“It’s always opened to you, day or night,” Laura said. She wrapped her arms around Sandra and held her close.
Sandra clung to her for an extra long moment before they went inside. She sniffed appreciatively at the wonderful aroma.
“Umm, that smells good. What is it?”
“I don’t have a name for it yet, but it’s a combination of chicken and vegetables and a new blend of herbs. You can be my guinea pig. Sit down. It’s almost ready.”
Sandra sat at the wooden table. “It always amazes me your kitchen is so small,” Sandra said, gazing around the compact room. “I’d expect someone who makes their living creating new recipes to have an enormous, professionally stocked kitchen.”
“I want to create simple recipes anyone can prepare. I keep my kitchen similar to my mother’s. If I can cook it here, then I know anyone can replicate it.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Sandra said, thinking about her own cooking skills. She cooked for her father for years and later for herself, until she hired Margaret, but her efforts were mediocre at best.
“Your problem is you don’t like to eat,” Laura said. “You don’t take the time to understand and enjoy food.”
“I eat when I’m hungry,” Sandra defended.
“Which is precisely my point. You eat for survival. I enjoy the smell, taste and texture of food.”
“You make it sound like sex,” Sandra said as Laura bent to remove the casserole.
“Actually, food and sex have a lot in common. They both satisfy a basic human need. We wouldn’t survive without them.”
“You will not die without sex,” Sandra snorted.
“Speak for yourself!” Laura quipped and placed the casserole on the table. “Speaking of such, how is Carol?”
“We’ve split up,” Sandra replied.
Laura stopped and looked at her. “Do you want to talk about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about,” Sandra said.
Laura nodded and began to remove plates from the cabinet.
Sandra got up to get the silverware.
They ate and discussed the delicious new recipe. Laura made a few notes on changes she wanted to try. She would continue to experiment with the recipe, until she achieved the exact taste she was looking for. They talked about the weather and the local news as they did dishes. Afterwards, they settled on the large, overstuffed couch in the living room with a cup of coffee.
“It’s still too cool to sit on the porch at night,” Laura stated.
“We’ll have to make do in here.”
Sandra took a sip of the coffee and leaned her head back.
“Are you ready to talk about what brought you out this way?”
Laura asked as she curled her feet beneath her.
Sandra pulled the letter from her purse sitting on a table at the end of the couch. “I found this in my father’s wallet today.”
She continued to sip her coffee while Laura read the letter.
Laura went through it slowly. “I’ve often wondered about your mom,” she said, re-folding the letter. “You’ve never mentioned her except that one time in college when you told me she left when you were a child.”
“I told you
Sandra called Laura from the car. “I’m calling to invite myself over.”
“Good. I need someone to test my new casserole.”
“As long as it isn’t tuna.” Sandra detested tuna casserole.
“Would I feed you tuna casserole?”
“I’ll be there in less than an hour.”
Sandra felt the tension draining away asshe drove out of the city. She was actually smiling by the time she pulled into Laura’s
driveway.
The small, blue cottage sat in a grove of oak trees. After she parked her car, Sandra stood by it and closed her eyes, listening to the wind in the trees. It was such a peaceful sound. She continued to listen until she heard the closing of the front door. She opened her eyes and found Laura watching her from the front steps.
“I sometimes think this place is the closest thing I’ve ever known to a real home,” Sandra said, walking to Laura.
“It’s always opened to you, day or night,” Laura said. She wrapped her arms around Sandra and held her close.
Sandra clung to her for an extra long moment before they went inside. She sniffed appreciatively at the wonderful aroma.
“Umm, that smells good. What is it?”
“I don’t have a name for it yet, but it’s a combination of chicken and vegetables and a new blend of herbs. You can be my guinea pig. Sit down. It’s almost ready.”
Sandra sat at the wooden table. “It always amazes me your kitchen is so small,” Sandra said, gazing around the compact room. “I’d expect someone who makes their living creating new recipes to have an enormous, professionally stocked kitchen.”
“I want to create simple recipes anyone can prepare. I keep my kitchen similar to my mother’s. If I can cook it here, then I know anyone can replicate it.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Sandra said, thinking about her own cooking skills. She cooked for her father for years and later for herself, until she hired Margaret, but her efforts were mediocre at best.
“Your problem is you don’t like to eat,” Laura said. “You don’t take the time to understand and enjoy food.”
“I eat when I’m hungry,” Sandra defended.
“Which is precisely my point. You eat for survival. I enjoy the smell, taste and texture of food.”
“You make it sound like sex,” Sandra said as Laura bent to remove the casserole.
“Actually, food and sex have a lot in common. They both satisfy a basic human need. We wouldn’t survive without them.”
“You will not die without sex,” Sandra snorted.
“Speak for yourself!” Laura quipped and placed the casserole on the table. “Speaking of such, how is Carol?”
“We’ve split up,” Sandra replied.
Laura stopped and looked at her. “Do you want to talk about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about,” Sandra said.
Laura nodded and began to remove plates from the cabinet.
Sandra got up to get the silverware.
They ate and discussed the delicious new recipe. Laura made a few notes on changes she wanted to try. She would continue to experiment with the recipe, until she achieved the exact taste she was looking for. They talked about the weather and the local news as they did dishes. Afterwards, they settled on the large, overstuffed couch in the living room with a cup of coffee.
“It’s still too cool to sit on the porch at night,” Laura stated.
“We’ll have to make do in here.”
Sandra took a sip of the coffee and leaned her head back.
“Are you ready to talk about what brought you out this way?”
Laura asked as she curled her feet beneath her.
Sandra pulled the letter from her purse sitting on a table at the end of the couch. “I found this in my father’s wallet today.”
She continued to sip her coffee while Laura read the letter.
Laura went through it slowly. “I’ve often wondered about your mom,” she said, re-folding the letter. “You’ve never mentioned her except that one time in college when you told me she left when you were a child.”
“I told you
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