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Authors: Claire Cook
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first shift."
" I do not have the summer off. I—" I stopped, visions of casseroles dancing in my head. Other than one scary concoction of ground beef, raisins, and some other unidentifiable ingredients, they were all pretty good. Tuna noodle casserole sprinkled with crushed cornflakes, American chop suey, chicken tetrazzini, corned beef and cabbage roll-ups.
Kevin had done most of the cooking when we were married. Since my divorce, my father 's date-baked casseroles had not only saved me from cooking for my father, they'd pretty much saved me from cooking. His freezer had become my free 24-hour grocery store. Not only that, but I was sometimes able to pass them off as my own creations. Even my brother Michael was starting to think I was a good cook.
I shook my head to clear the casseroles. "Why do you think he has a shortage?"
Carol shrugged. "Well, obviously, his ads are no longer hitting his target demographic. All the single seniors are online now."
" But what can we do? You saw how he blew me off when I brought it up—we'll never get Dad to give up his typewriter. We can't even get him to plug in the laptop we all chipped in on. What was that? Two Christmases ago?"
Carol leaned forward to make sure nobody was spying on us from below. "Okay, here's the plan. We kill two birds with one stone and get Dad and Michael dating together."
" I thought you said Michael wasn't ready to date yet."
" Sarah, get with the program. Phoebe is dating."
" So that means Michael is ready?"
" No, it means we want him to get over Phoebe. So we've got to bump him up to pre-ready. And he might as well get all his near misses and rebound relationships over with anyway. That way, when he's really ready, he can move right along."
I buried my head in my hands. "Oh, please, don't ever make me go back out there again."
" Sarah, this isn't about you, so get over yourself. While the roast is cooking, I'm going to take Dad aside and convince him he has to do it for Michael. And you'll take Michael aside and tell him he has to do it for Dad."
The thing about my sister Carol was that even though she was way too bossy, she came up with some pretty good plans. "How long do roasts take to cook again?" I asked, just so she'd know I was contemplating the variables.
She shook her head. "Clearly you need those casseroles." She pulled herself to a standing position with the worn mahogany banister we all used to slide down as kids. "Focus. And we'll check in with each other later."
Carol disappeared back into the kitchen. I reached over to yank myself to my feet with the banister.
"Aunty Sarah," Lainie yelled. "Can we do a dress rehearsal for you?"
Annie and Lainie came running into the hallway. Maeve and Sydney, their youngest cousins, followed right behind them.
"Sure," I said. I plopped back down on the stairs, getting ready to watch them bust some moves or do a one-act play. Over the years, the wide center hallway with its stairway seating had been the stage for everything from magic shows to hula-hoop exhibitions.
My nieces lined up, side-by-side, oldest to youngest, and began to sing.
If I were a butterfly
And you were a ladybug
Would you marry me anyway
And have butterbug babies
If I crashed and fell
On all the little children
Heading straight for hell
Would you put me back together again
So we could fly to heaven.
If I were a butterfly
And you were a ladybug
Would you marry me anyway
And have butterbug babies
Chapter
Ten
I just sat there for a while after my nieces left to go sing my butterfly humiliation around some more. Dozens of family photographs surrounded me like a group hug. Mismatched frames stretched along both sides of the staircase all the way up to the second floor.
My eyes went, as they always did first, to my parents ' sepia wedding photo. A thin and dapper version of my tuxedoed father that was both so him and so not him all at the same time. My mother in her wedding gown with the
" I do not have the summer off. I—" I stopped, visions of casseroles dancing in my head. Other than one scary concoction of ground beef, raisins, and some other unidentifiable ingredients, they were all pretty good. Tuna noodle casserole sprinkled with crushed cornflakes, American chop suey, chicken tetrazzini, corned beef and cabbage roll-ups.
Kevin had done most of the cooking when we were married. Since my divorce, my father 's date-baked casseroles had not only saved me from cooking for my father, they'd pretty much saved me from cooking. His freezer had become my free 24-hour grocery store. Not only that, but I was sometimes able to pass them off as my own creations. Even my brother Michael was starting to think I was a good cook.
I shook my head to clear the casseroles. "Why do you think he has a shortage?"
Carol shrugged. "Well, obviously, his ads are no longer hitting his target demographic. All the single seniors are online now."
" But what can we do? You saw how he blew me off when I brought it up—we'll never get Dad to give up his typewriter. We can't even get him to plug in the laptop we all chipped in on. What was that? Two Christmases ago?"
Carol leaned forward to make sure nobody was spying on us from below. "Okay, here's the plan. We kill two birds with one stone and get Dad and Michael dating together."
" I thought you said Michael wasn't ready to date yet."
" Sarah, get with the program. Phoebe is dating."
" So that means Michael is ready?"
" No, it means we want him to get over Phoebe. So we've got to bump him up to pre-ready. And he might as well get all his near misses and rebound relationships over with anyway. That way, when he's really ready, he can move right along."
I buried my head in my hands. "Oh, please, don't ever make me go back out there again."
" Sarah, this isn't about you, so get over yourself. While the roast is cooking, I'm going to take Dad aside and convince him he has to do it for Michael. And you'll take Michael aside and tell him he has to do it for Dad."
The thing about my sister Carol was that even though she was way too bossy, she came up with some pretty good plans. "How long do roasts take to cook again?" I asked, just so she'd know I was contemplating the variables.
She shook her head. "Clearly you need those casseroles." She pulled herself to a standing position with the worn mahogany banister we all used to slide down as kids. "Focus. And we'll check in with each other later."
Carol disappeared back into the kitchen. I reached over to yank myself to my feet with the banister.
"Aunty Sarah," Lainie yelled. "Can we do a dress rehearsal for you?"
Annie and Lainie came running into the hallway. Maeve and Sydney, their youngest cousins, followed right behind them.
"Sure," I said. I plopped back down on the stairs, getting ready to watch them bust some moves or do a one-act play. Over the years, the wide center hallway with its stairway seating had been the stage for everything from magic shows to hula-hoop exhibitions.
My nieces lined up, side-by-side, oldest to youngest, and began to sing.
If I were a butterfly
And you were a ladybug
Would you marry me anyway
And have butterbug babies
If I crashed and fell
On all the little children
Heading straight for hell
Would you put me back together again
So we could fly to heaven.
If I were a butterfly
And you were a ladybug
Would you marry me anyway
And have butterbug babies
Chapter
Ten
I just sat there for a while after my nieces left to go sing my butterfly humiliation around some more. Dozens of family photographs surrounded me like a group hug. Mismatched frames stretched along both sides of the staircase all the way up to the second floor.
My eyes went, as they always did first, to my parents ' sepia wedding photo. A thin and dapper version of my tuxedoed father that was both so him and so not him all at the same time. My mother in her wedding gown with the
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