Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I don’t understand,” I said, opening the gate to the backyard. “You have a food budget. Why aren’t you eating better?”
“It’s the prep,” Jake grumbled, climbing the stairs after me as I opened the door to our screened-in back porch area and then continued to the heavier one that led into the kitchen. “None of us can come home from school and our jobs, to cook. We’re beat by then.”
The warning came as soon as I unlocked the door, and I moved quickly to the alarm panel and punched in the code, moving so I could get out of Dobby’s way as he came, like a rocket, to Kola. He was bouncing up and down at his feet until my son bent and lifted the little dog, who squirmed and whimpered and licked his face.
Kola closed his eyes, soaking in the love of his pet.
“We end up eating a lot of fast food, and then once the budget is jacked, then it’s ramen and tuna casserole and––”
“I get the idea,” I said, smiling at him as Chilly came to greet Kola.
Sam took Dobby from his son, put the dog outside so he could pee or poop or do whatever he needed to after two hours alone, and Kola gently picked up our cat, who, we figured out, had just turned twenty. Chilly rubbed his face all over Kola’s and even took a small gentle nibble of his chin.
“I missed you,” Kola told his pet, carrying him through the kitchen to the couch.
“I guess I’ll carry up your bag, my liege,” Jake griped at him.
“I make coffee for nameless women every morning,” Kola clapped back.
Jake looked sheepish and wouldn’t even look at Hannah. “It’s not every morning.”
“It certainly feels like it,” Kola pronounced, not letting it go as Jake, carrying both their duffels, stomped by him to the foot of the stairs and then pounded up those as well. “He’s an ingrate, but really, I don’t even know how he has time to meet all these women.”
“He’s a waiter,” Hannah reminded her brother, shedding her coat and then walking it back out the kitchen door to hang on the hooks on the screened-in porch that now had the winter windows lowered. The insulated frames and double glass kept out most of the cold, but really, no one wanted to be out there for any extended amount of time from December through March, even with the addition of the space heaters.
“What we need,” Kola said, shrugging out of his field jacket and giving it to his sister as he now sat on the couch with Chilly in his lap, “is a cook.”
“What you need is to choose a day to prep for the week,” I corrected him.
“Oh, right,” he murmured. “That’s what you always did on Sunday morning while the rest of us went to church.”
“I went to church,” I said defensively, glancing at Sam.
“For the singing and the shaking hands, as you call it.” He was smiling, which was good. “But you listening to the priest and waiting as we all take communion—just watching you fidget in the pew is exhausting.”
I had no idea what he expected. I didn’t have meetings with my teams at work for this exact reason. We had lunches to talk about things, or dinner, but just sitting, listening to someone—that’s what emails were for.
“Anyway,” I said, scowling at my husband before returning my attention to my son. “You need a prep day where you plan the week’s meals, or even say three out of the five of them, because Saturday is a splurge day to eat whatever you want, and Sunday is family dinner.”
“So technically, since we don’t have family there, then––”
“Yes, you do,” Hannah corrected him, flopping down on the couch beside him. “It’s the day you guys all sit down together and eat at your table. The other days, whoever made dinner is leaving it on the stove or in the fridge for other people to get, and whoever cooked it, doesn’t have to clean up.”
He nodded.
“That’s how my friends who live off campus do it,” Hannah told him. “Everyone cooks together on Sunday. The other days, you alternate.”
He explained to her then that Jake, with his waiter job, went from school there, never got in before one, and normally had someone with him. He would have already eaten at the restaurant, which left him and Harper. Lately, Harper was eating with his boyfriend on the nights he didn’t work, which left Kola alone.
“I think you need to have a house meeting and come up with a plan,” Sam told his son, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside the couch in the wingback chair.
Kola looked at him and nodded, and Sam must have seen something in his face because he got up, moved to the couch, and took a seat beside his son. He then put his arm around Kola and leaned him against him. Kola took several deep breaths and then closed his eyes.