Come Back to Me by Carolyn Astfalk

Author:Carolyn Astfalk
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
ISBN: 9781987970135
Publisher: Full Quiver Publishing
Published: 2020-02-14T05:00:00+00:00

14

If Only

Megan stared at the new spice rack nestled between a barrel of sourdough pretzels and the coffeemaker at the rear of Jamie’s kitchen counter. Tarragon. Did she have tarragon? And more importantly, what was tarragon? Sounded like the hot guy with stringy hair from the Lord of the Rings movies Tim had made her sit through.

“Did you find it?” Jamie struggled to tie a bunch of parsley together with some kitchen string then huffed and dropped it into the stockpot on the stove.

Using her index finger, Megan traced a path along each row of spices. What was she doing here after work, trying to instruct Jamie in soup-making? She stocked her freezer with frozen meals, and her refrigerator and cupboards were almost as bare as Jamie’s. She was the first to suggest eating out. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook or even that she didn’t enjoy it. It simply wasn’t a skill she wanted to cultivate; it didn’t quite fit her image as a cosmopolitan, carefree, career girl.

“Uh . . .” Megan scanned the tiny bottles again, her gaze roving over the labels twice before she realized they’d been alphabetized. “Got it!” She held up the small bottle of crushed green flakes, a smile of satisfaction lifting her spirits.

Jamie’s mom used a paring knife to push her pile of sliced, peeled carrots to the edge of the cutting board. “Carrots are ready.”

Petite with silver hair cut in a no-nonsense shingle bob, wearing neither makeup nor jewelry, the kind-faced lady appeared to be close to seventy. That seemed about right given that Jamie had said her mom had been in her mid-forties when Jamie had been born. Jamie had set her up with a table tray so she could sit while she worked. Her recovery from the knee replacements had taken longer than expected due to an infection, but Megan guessed she’d be ready to be on her own again soon.

“So, Jamie, why the sudden urge to learn how to cook?” Megan measured the tarragon and dumped it into the stock pot. The warm aroma of chicken and herbs wafted on a swirling cloud of steam. If Jamie were interested in honing her cooking skills, wouldn’t she have done it already? If providing healthy food for her and for Alan wasn’t motivation enough, surely all the ribbing she took for her ineptitude in the kitchen was. Her lack of culinary skills was legendary.

Jamie wiped her hands on a dishcloth, sighed, and then grabbed the recipe card from the counter. “The recipe says this soup costs less than a dollar per serving.” Jamie shook her head. “Do you know how much a bowl of soup at a fast casual restaurant costs?”

“Around five bucks.” Megan dropped the sliced carrots into the pot and stirred, forcing more of the savory bouquet into the air. “Just think of the house you guys could’ve bought if you used your eating-out budget alone for a down payment.”

Jamie, leaning against the counter in her jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt, shot her a withered glance.

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