Premiere: A Love Story by Tracy Ewens Page A

Grady. So, they settled into being there for each other, and that was enough.
    “Happy Independence Day, beautiful,” Grady said, sliding his arm around Sam’s waist.
    “No fair copping a feel, I’m busy with the buns.”
    “That sounds very interesting.”
    Sam blushed, and his mission was accomplished. They both laughed as Grady kissed Sam’s mother on the cheek.
    “I’ve never understood why men stay out of the kitchen,” he said, stealing a chip from the table, “the kitchen is where all the women are. This is where it’s at.”
    “The kitchen is usually where the help is at, Grady. I suppose it all depends on whom you want to hang out with,” Kara said, setting her platter down.
    “Sam, good to see you. Mrs. Cathner, interesting pants.”
    They both nodded politely and, as she did every year, Kara floated by them and out to the patio. Kara was in a red, white, and blue wraparound dress, her long blonde hair tied back in a red ribbon. Her lips were tinted red, and her dark sunglasses hid what Sam knew were a stunning copy of Grady’s eyes. It was a shame all that perfection was wasted on someone so incredibly unlikable.
    Grady chomped on another chip and rolled his eyes.
    “Has she always been such a, well, bitch?”
    “Grady Malendar, watch your tongue, you’re talking about you sister.”
    He froze and looked at Sam’s mother.
    “But, to answer your question, yes, we’ll always love her dearly, but yes, she has.”
    They all laughed, and Grady hugged Mrs. Cathner.
    “I should go mingle. Thank you, ladies, for brightening my day once again.”
    Sam watched him through the kitchen window, as he joined their fathers at the grill. He extended a beer to each and seemed to fall right into the conversation.
    “Well, the buns are done,” Sam said, wiping her hands on the kitchen towel.
    “Do you want me to bring them out?”
    “No, just leave them there on the table. The caterers will bring the rest in a few minutes. I love their barbecue, but I’ve never been a fan of the . . .”
    “Buns, I know. Did Henry bring these from Los Angeles this morning?”
    She smiled.
    “He did. I asked him to order the kaiser rolls early because they always run out. He brought extra hamburger buns too. I’m picky about my buns.”
    She giggled like a schoolgirl, and Sam shook her head. Her mother was really the definition of young at heart.
    “Go outside and relax. Everything’s under control in here,” her mother urged.
    “I’d rather stay busy.”
    “Something wrong?”
    Susan knew Sam was having a hard time with Peter in town. But she hadn’t said anything. It was usually best to let Sam sort those feelings out on her own.
    “No, fine. I just like to stay busy. When does the farmer’s market start today?”
    “Eleven o’clock. They moved it up an hour because it gets so packed. You could go before lunch this year.”
    “That’s the plan. I’ll go see if Dad wants anything and then head over. Tomatoes and avocados for you, anything else?”
    “If that sprout guy is there, pick up some radish sprouts. I love those and Dr. Weil says . . .”
    “Oh, boy. Radish sprouts it is,” Sam said, opening the door and escaping another wellness-after-sixty excerpt. Strawberries were added to the list, at her father’s request.
    Sam walked around to the side gate and took one of the bikes from the rack by the garage. It was her mother’s: wide handlebars and a big basket on the front. Every year she snuck away to the farmer’s market in town, usually after lunch, but Sam was antsy this year. She felt nervous and knew Peter’s family would arrive any minute. Sam wasn’t sure if Peter would be with them, but she hated that she couldn’t stop thinking about it. She needed to step away.
    Peter had been at rehearsals all week, but they had not spoken since his little night out with Grady. He’d had five beers, she kept telling herself, but then she would picture his face and his hands, the need. Sam paused for