Chapter 3
Nothing beats the smell of bacon and eggs in the morning.
Unless you’re a vegan, I suppose. Seems like everybody’s trying to make everything taste like what they really want to eat.
A brownie with real, natural cane sugar can’t be worse than one made with synthetic chemicals.
I’m just saying—if you’re gonna eat a brownie, eat a brownie.
Clearly, Gabriella was one of the actual meat-eating cooks, from the aroma that easily strolled down the hallway, under my bedroom door, and into my nostrils like we were old friends catching up with one another.
“Mornin’, Li’l Joy!” it greeted me as though my very own grandmother were in the house again. Except there was the distinct smell of cilantro. Blaxican.
I washed up and made my way to the kitchen, hoping to at least get a look at what Gabriella had cooked. “Good morning,” I said to her.
She looked up from the sink, where suds crawled up her arms as she washed dishes the old-fashioned way. “Good morning.”
“Smells good.”
“I made enough for two, if you want,” she said with a brief smile.
The cheese melting on top of the egg left me no choice. “Thank you. Looks delicious, too. What is it?”
“It’s a mix of chilaquiles and cheesy grits—something my grandmothers used to make, in their own ways. One was Black, from Georgia, and the other was Mexican, from Veracruz. I grew up eating both, and this is kinda like a blend of the two worlds. A little homage to both of them.”
I took a bite, and the flavors exploded—creamy, sharp cheese with the slight crisp of tortillas, balanced with the rich softness of the eggs. The grits were smooth and buttery, while the spice from the salsa brought the dish to life.
I laughed. “This does taste like one foot in the South and the other across the border.”
“Exactly.” Gabriella showed all thirty-two teeth. “I love it when people enjoy my food.”
“Well, consider yourself thoroughly in love, because you’ve got a fan in me.” All my manners slipped away as I licked the last bits of salsa and cheese. It seemed a waste to allow even one drop of flavor to sit on a napkin.
“Thank you very much. But I’m going to need more space.”
“Space?”
“Yes. For my kitchen appliances, pots and pans, you know? I’ve barely unpacked half of them, and there’s no room left.”
I looked around at the upper and lower cabinets of the kitchen, noticing a few doors slightly ajar from whatever she’d packed behind them.
And I could no longer see my canister set because of the machinery she’d lined up in front of the four cylinders.
My lips twisted to the right. “Not sure how we can get more…space. I mean, it is what it is.”
“I was thinking maybe an overhead rack.” She raised a hand and traced out a long, invisible rectangle above us.
I quelled an outright “no” with a click of my cheeks. What did she think this was, one of those home-remodeling shows?
Gabriella added, “Just until the construction resumes.”
Oh. That. Seeing as I had no idea when the construction might resume, I had to consider her vision. “Where… How… Who would install it?” I asked, still coming to grips with the idea that half her rent would probably be spent on this impromptu project.
“I can get my boyfriend to do it,” she offered.
Boyfriend? I should have known a beautiful girl like Gabriella would have somebody. Goodness gracious—what did that mean for me? Would they be making noises in the night? Would I have to actually enforce the three-night-stay rule in our lease agreement?
I looked up at the hypothetical rack again, as though it might give me the answers I was looking for. Did I really want to share my space—my life—with someone else and her boyfriend at this point in my journey?
“He’s good with carpentry. He’s also a cook, kind of. So he’d know how to make it work in a kitchen.”
My first thought was to ask if he’d leave holes in the ceiling, but given the fact that I’d be demolishing the kitchen whenever it was time for the rack to come down, it didn’t seem to matter. “I suppose that would be all right.”
Gabriella clapped three times. “Yaaay! This is gonna be great.”
Great wasn’t the word running through my head, but my daughter’s ringtone saved me from having to don yet another disingenuous smile. I set my plate in the sink on my way out. “I’ll be back to wash it.”
I missed Terri’s call but redialed her a few seconds later.
My belly was so full from the breakfast, I swear my bed creaked a little louder as I sat down to talk to her.
“Momma, where were you?”
“I was eating.”
She huffed. “You need to keep your phone on you at all times.”
“Aren’t you the one who always said I worry too much?” I reminded her. “I’m fine, Terri. My housemate and I are just getting to know each other over breakfast, is all. I don’t like to watch my phone over a meal.”
“Well, I need you.”
My heart dropped.
“Actually, Elijah needs you.”
“What’s going on with my grandson?”
“He needs a place to stay for the summer.”
“He has a place to stay,” I blurted out without thinking.
Terri finally told the whole truth. “What I mean is, he needs someone to watch him while I go to Tennessee to take a seminar to get an endorsement. I just found out they selected me from, like, thousands of applicants. It’s an amazing opportunity.
But I have to go to Tennessee for seven weeks for the training so I can take the test.”
“Seven weeks?”
“Yes. June and July, basically.”
“Why can’t he stay with Christopher?”
“Mom,” she lowered her voice. “You know Christopher can’t watch him for seven weeks.”
“The hell he can’t,” I countered. “He’s your husband and Elijah’s father. He is perfectly capable of watching his own son.”
“Chris works every day; sometimes he has to take a long haul in his truck. And besides, if you and Dad were still together, in Austin, it wouldn’t be a problem for the two of you and Chris to shuffle Elijah around, take turns with him. But with you gone…”
Here we go with the attempted guilt trip. “Terri, stick to the subject.”
She sighed. “Elijah wants to come with you. He’s used to spending weeks with you and Dad every summer. But, of course, you took that away from him.”
The food in my stomach rumbled with her low blow. “I haven’t taken anything away from Elijah,” I defended myself.
“Yes, you have. You took stability from him. From this whole family, Mom. Can you at least give him seven weeks of it back?” Terri asked-slashed-accused.
“Ma!” I heard Elijah’s voice in the background.
“Hold on, I’m talking to your grandmother.”
“Hi, Grandma!” His voice sailed straight into my heart.
I yelled back, “Hey, EJ.” The nickname was short for Elijah Joe, passed down on his father’s side of the family.
He was my only grandchild, and I’d spent a great deal of time with him as an infant, with my daughter working toward her MBA and my son-in-law launching his trucking business during Elijah’s first three years of life.
We had a special bond, so hearing his voice resonated deeply.
“I’m asking her if you can stay with her for a while this summer,” she said to him.
She knew full well that if my grandson asked me, “no” wasn’t in my vocabulary.
I cringed. She must be desperate for this certificate to bring Elijah into a conversation between adults. “Get him out of the room,” I demanded.
Terri clicked her cheek, but a second later she did obey me, and I heard a door close as he left her presence, presumably. “Momma, if you don’t watch him, I’ll have to wait until the next application season, and there’s no guarantee they’ll select me again.”
Now, if she had started out the conversation straightforward, told me her predicament and asked nicely if I would watch Elijah, we wouldn’t have to go around all these mountains of half-truth and valleys of guilt to come to an agreement.
But again, she was her father’s child.
“I’m sorry, but I’m just getting settled into my new place. Elijah can’t stay here the whole summer. I can watch him for some of the time, but you have a father and a whole husband who are perfectly capable of helping out.”
“Fine,” she said like she was doing me the favor.
“You’re welcome.”
She hesitated before adding, “Thank you. He’ll be very excited to hear this news.” She was trying to clean it up now. “I’ll be sure to pack all of his electronics.”
“We’ve got plenty of fresh air and outdoor activities here,” I said. The last thing I planned to do was allow Elijah to stare at a blue screen all day.
“Well, since he turned ten, it’s like his brain switched into preteen mode.” Her voice clouded with motherly worry, which immediately sparked my maternal instinct to protect my daughter despite everything. “He’s speaking his mind more, and it’s borderline disrespectful.”
“They go through stages,” I advised. “And it’s good for him to find his voice.”
“Yes, I know. It just feels like he’s not my baby anymore. Maybe if he’s around you, he’ll slip back into kid mode again. You see how he acted when I told him I was on the phone with you.”
“Can’t promise you anything. EJ’s growing up.”
“I guess I just miss the way he used to drop everything and run to me when I picked him up from day care. You remember the video that went viral?”
A laugh bubbled up from me. Boy, did I ever. Elijah was on the Austin news and on everyone’s social media, dropping a little train set at the sight of his mother, belting out the biggest giggles, arms outstretched, running as fast as his eighteen-month-old legs would take him into her embrace.
My grandson was an adorable baby, and unlike other grandmothers, I had the views, likes, and comments to prove it, thank you very much.
Terri joined in my laughter, and I suddenly remembered some of our better moments together.
Taking her to get her ears pierced. Building science fair projects.
Working together at her neighborhood lemonade stand—though it was another of her unlicensed gigs.
She had always been a salesperson. Persuasive.
Business-minded. And it made total sense that an organization would pick my baby for special training this summer.
I just wished she wasn’t so pushy with me.
“I’ll bring him to you the first weekend of June.”
Now, I was born at night, not last night.
I knew that putting me first in the rotation was only buying her time until her next attempt to guilt me into keeping him for the remainder of the summer.
By then, we’d be into a routine, his clothes would be all mixed up in my laundry, and he probably would make friends in Robin Creek that he wouldn’t want to leave.
I knew this, and yet I didn’t advocate for a different slot, because, to be honest, I simply wasn’t up to any more arguing with her.
Ever since I’d decided to leave my husband, a part of me had felt like the family villain. There was only so much I could take feeling like that at once. In addition to picking battles, we have to pick when to fight them. This one could wait until I had my bearings better.
“I’ll be ready for him.”