Lucy McConnell's Snow Valley Box Set by Lucy McConnell

Author:Lucy McConnell
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Orchard View Publishing LLC
Published: 2019-07-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Cat lifted the lid off the rice maker and let the steam escape. She’d tucked her phone between her shoulder and cheek so she could talk while she cut up a pineapple.

Pastor John’s sermon about starting anew had really hit home. For a moment, Cat entertained the idea that she and Sam could start anew and throw out the friends only rule. But, after seeing him swarmed by females after church, she managed to talk herself out of that idea.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dad.” Cat smiled at the idea that she would see him soon.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Cat hacked the top off the pineapple and flipped it upside down on the breadboard to let the juices spread from the bottom of the fruit all the way through before cutting it up to serve. “I’d like to accept the job.”

“Wonderful!”

Cat chewed her lip. “I’ll look at flights tomorrow.” Her car was buried under three feet of snow and wasn’t going anywhere until spring. But she could take the subway to campus or borrow her mom’s car. Things would work out.

“Of course. Of course. We’ll pick you up. Just text me the flight information.”

“I will.”

“Catrina, I’m so proud of you.”

Cat smiled. For the past year, she’d made a decent paycheck as an author. She’d lived her dream, waking up each morning feeling blessed to be able to share stories with her readers. Somehow, she’d known it couldn’t last forever. Eventually the alarm buzzes, and dreams come to an end.

A heaviness settled into her chest. I’m not losing a dream; I’m simply replacing it with another. The time had come to put away childish things and move into the world of adults who contribute to society, raise families, and move out of their grandpa’s house.

They said goodbye and hung up. Cat stared at the pineapple. “You have it easy. You were born a pineapple. People are born blank. We have to make it up as we go.”

The oven timer went off, and Grandpa wandered into the kitchen. Cat smiled. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“You can call me many names, but don’t ever call me late for dinner,” he replied with a grin.

Cat set a plate of teriyaki chicken and rice in front of Grandpa, the bowl of pineapple chunks in the middle of the table, and two small bowls of spinach salad by their cups. She took a seat across from Grandpa and bowed her head while he blessed the food.

After saying amen, Grandpa stared at the empty placemat on his right. “What happened? I thought you were going to ask Sam for dinner?”

“I’m sure he has plenty of options.” Cat speared a piece of chicken and chomped down on it, chewing thoroughly. The image of Sam at church—looking mighty fine in his gray suit—surrounded by every available woman in Snow Valley popped in her head, making her want to go all Chicken Bessie right there. Well, maybe not every woman.

Grandpa chuckled. “Scared off by a gaggle of females, eh?”

“The only female that scares me off is Bessie, Satan’s favorite chicken.

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