The Last Suppers by Mandy Mikulencak

Author:Mandy Mikulencak [Mikulencak, Mandy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2017-11-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Tropical storm Arlene tore into Louisiana, dumping thirteen inches of rain near the coast and half as much inland in just two days. It was enough to turn the prison’s dusty roads into muck and to compel Ginny to drive to the prison kitchen each morning for more than a week. Dot wasn’t averse to walking in rain, but the wind accompanying the storm drove her half-crazy. She gladly accepted the rides.

They appreciated the extra time at the kitchen table each morning with their cups of coffee and sweet rolls. Even after the rains stopped, they continued taking the car to safeguard the new ritual.

Yesterday, Dot had moved the typewriter onto the kitchen table, suggesting they work on the cookbook in the mornings. Their first brainstorming session wasn’t going well. Mostly, she just chastised Ginny for poor penmanship and inattention to detail.

“I can’t make out your handwriting.” Dot sifted through several recipes Ginny had laid out on the table. “Some of these aren’t even recipes.”

“Those are just guidelines,” Ginny argued. “I carry around the steps in my head.”

“Women new to the kitchen won’t be reading your mind. You got to write out every step or you’ll be responsible for a lot of disasters and wasted groceries.”

“You’re being overly dramatic.”

Dot crossed her arms and looked at Ginny over the top of her glasses. “You’re going to have to make each and every recipe. I’ll write down the steps as you go along and you can type it up after. We could start this weekend.”

Weekends were spent with Roscoe. Ginny didn’t relish giving up that time to Dot, with whom she already spent every waking hour during the work week. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, Ginny muddled over how to couch her response.

“You probably don’t want me intruding on the time with your boyfriend, huh?” Dot asked. “Fine. We’ll work on the cookbook in the evenings and I’ll let you lovebirds have your time alone.”

“Well, I don’t see him much during the week.”

“Ginny, I said it was all right. Lester’s wife may not like me, but she looks forward to me taking care of the boys on the weekends to give her a break. Lord knows what holy hell would ensue if Granny Dot no longer cooked Sunday dinner for those little ones.”

She poured Ginny another half cup of coffee and topped it off with heavy cream. She’d been sneaking extra fat into everything Ginny ate or drank, even offering the skin from her portion of roasted chicken one evening.

Ginny poured the contents of the cup into a small saucepan and lit the burner beneath it. “You’ve cooled down the coffee by adding cold cream. It has to be hot.”

“It has to be hot,” Dot mimicked. “Well, as long as you drink it, I’m satisfied.”

They had another twenty minutes before they had to leave, so Dot started making piles of the recipes while Ginny sipped the now-scalding drink.

“What are you doing?” Ginny peered across the table.

“Sorting by type of recipe. You know, main dish, side dish, dessert.

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