Susan thought Penny missed the sarcasm in Sally’s comment. “I think we’d better be going,” she said to Kathleen. “We don’t want to miss the ferry.”
“And I’d better get back to work,” Penny said. “The two o’clock ferry usually brings over some visitors. I need to get this chair back to the living room.”
“And I have a date with a jigsaw puzzle,” Sally said, standing up.
The four women parted. Penny picked up the chair and headed for the living room. Susan and Kathleen paused to say good-bye to Sally.
“Poor girl. She really loves him,” Kathleen said, looking down the hallway.
“She’s young. She’ll get over it,” Sally said.
“Are you surprised at what she said about Mike?” Susan asked.
“Not surprised. Sad, but not surprised. I’m afraid that young man has a tendency to get in over his head. I hope he grows up before he gets in serious trouble.”
“This is my phone number.” Susan handed a small slip of paper to Sally. “Will you call me if you hear anything else about him? If I’m not at home, you can always leave a message.”
“Of course. And will you do the same? Of course, you won’t have to leave a message. I’ll be here. I’m always here,” Sally ended with a rueful smile.
TWENTY-EIGHT
HE WAS SCREWED AND HE KNEW IT. THIS PLACE MADE Perry Island Care Center look like Canyon Ranch. The pay was rotten, the staff incompetent, the management only interested in making a profit. The residents… He couldn’t help himself; he woke up in the middle of the night worrying about the residents. Not that they were worth it. Poor and old and boring. Maybe they’d be better off dead. He sure hoped he didn’t end up like them, all alone in a rotten nursing home.
Susan stopped at Kathleen’s house only long enough to say hello to Jerry’s parents before heading straight home. Chrissy was walking out the door as she turned into the driveway.
“Have to run, Mom,” her daughter called out without slowing down. “I’m meeting Erika and I’m fifteen minutes late!” She climbed into her car and had the key in the ignition before her mother could protest.
“Where are the twins? And Shannon?”
“The babies are in the nursery and Shannon is in the kitchen. Everything’s fine.” Chrissy waved out of the window of her car and backed down the driveway.
Susan parked her car in the garage and used the connecting door to enter the house. Shannon was, in fact, in the kitchen, skimming through one of Susan’s favorite cookbooks as she ate her lunch. The baby monitor sat on the table next to an almost empty soup bowl.
Shannon looked up when Susan entered the room. “Hi. There’s still some tomato soup left if you would like some.”
“No, thanks. I’ve already eaten.” Susan wasn’t sure whether to mention P.I.C.C. or not.
“The babies are both bathed and are sleeping. Chrissy and I didn’t know if you had any plans, but we thought I could make dinner tonight. I do a wonderful chicken and chickpea tagine that she and Stephen like. Except for couscous and chicken thighs, you had all the ingredients here. I dashed out earlier and got what I needed. I hope it’s okay with you.”
Susan smiled. “I don’t know a single woman who wouldn’t be thrilled to have someone cook dinner for her. Perhaps I could whip up something for dessert.”
“Sounds great to me, but Chrissy is trying to lose weight.”
“I’ll do fruit in brandy. There’s Ben & Jerry’s vanilla in the freezer. Chrissy can skip the ice cream if she’s worried about calories, and the men can have double scoops. You, too,” she added glancing over at Shannon ’s slender figure.
“I’ve been thin since my first year of nursing school. You burn lots of calories being a nurse.” Shannon got up to put her empty bowl in the dishwasher.
“Even in a nursing home?” Susan asked. She removed her jacket, draped it on a chair, opened the refrigerator, and began pulling fruit out and placing it on a nearby counter.
“Especially in a nursing home. When people are in wheelchairs someone else has to do their walking for them. When I was growing up, my mother used to say that taking care of people at the beginning and the end of their lives is some of the hardest work there is-as well as the most rewarding.”
“And you’ve done both,” Susan said, examining a quart of blueberries for any signs of mold. “Which do you prefer?”
Shannon seemed to consider the question seriously. “I’m not sure. Old people… well, I always planned on working with old people. But taking care of babies is wonderful.”
“Rosie and Ethan are your second job with babies?” Susan asked, picking up a pineapple and breathing in its tangy scent.
“Yes. They’re so adorable and this job is a dream-nice family, nice home. What more could anyone ask for.”
“Cookies?” Susan muttered, opening a cupboard door.
Shannon looked startled. “Cookies?”
“They would go well with the fruit and ice cream and I know the men would love some. I was just wondering if I had some stashed away. But no. When I buy them, I eat them.”
“I’m the same way,” Shannon admitted. “But we could bake some. Brownies are quick.”
“Good idea. I use the basic Joy of Cooking recipe and add a half teaspoon of almond extract.”
“Yummy. My favorite brownie recipe has a layer of raspberry jam in the chocolate.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“It might be interesting to combine recipes. You know, make the brownies with almond extract the way you usually do and then add a layer of raspberry jam. If you have jam.”
Susan reached up and opened a cupboard high over her coffeepot. “I always have jam,” she explained as about a half dozen jars were revealed. “I buy it, but no one in the family has time for breakfast these days, so it just hangs around.” She pulled down a crock of French raspberry jam. “I think this will do.”
Shannon nodded and the women got busy.
Susan had forgotten how comforting it was to share the kitchen with another person who enjoys cooking. They discussed ingredients, recipes, family favorites, nothing of any importance to anyone who didn’t share their enthusiasm. Susan forgot her quandary over whether to tell Shannon of the morning spent at P.I.C.C. when the twins woke up and decided that nothing would do except for them to join their grandmother and nurse in the kitchen.
When Chrissy walked into the kitchen two hours later, the babies were perched on the table in their baby seats, surrounded by a tray of cooling brownies and a crystal bowl of fruit, sugared, brandied, and sprinkled with fresh mint leaves. (Rosie had grabbed a spray of mint and waved it around for a bit, much to the delight of the women.) An exotic combination of cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, coriander, and vanilla emanated from the oven where the chicken tagine was beginning its long, slow baking. Shannon was playing “this little piggy” with Ethan’s toes, much to his sister’s delight, and Susan was filling the dishwasher with dirty crockery.
“Mother, I thought you were going to go to that place on Perry Island today. Stephen said you told him you might be back late. That’s why I thought Shannon could cook dinner for us all,” Chrissy commented, brushing an imaginary lock of hair off her daughter’s forehead.
Susan glanced over at Shannon who had stopped wiping strawberry pulp off the cutting board and was staring at her. “Actually I was there. Kathleen and I went over this morning,” she admitted.
“Did you find what you wanted? Stephen said you told him that Kathleen was looking for a cottage to rent this summer vacation.”
“Yes. She is.”
Chrissy continued her questions, oblivious to the change of mood in the room. “Did she find a place?”
“She spoke with the real estate agent there and there are a few possibilities,” Susan answered. Shannon had picked up the sponge again and was scrubbing with more energy than necessary to do the job.