over the baby pictures of Donny, whom she’d helped raise. But there was still an underlying tension among them all.
When she and Brady reached the checkout line, something else occurred to her. “Do I have tapes of the shows, Brady?”
“Uh-huh, from the studio.”
“I’d like to watch this one, then make the meal.”
Without speaking, he paid the cashier. He had a bad feeling about her watching the show that had, in the long run, taken her away from him.
“I’ll stop if I get a headache or upset.”
“I don’t think you should rush your memory.”
“I won’t.”
Though he was worried about this step, he was pleased about one thing. Over the course of the past few days, she’d taken to asking his opinion, his permission sometimes, like she used to in the old days. It had gone both ways and they’d spent a lot of years consulting each other on choices and decisions to be made. It was only right that she should now, after what they’d meant to each other.
When they got back to her place, Brady found the show’s CDs packed away in a cabinet and stuck the one she wanted, labeled by the meal, in the player. Sitting next to her on the couch, he watched as she came on and smiled out at the camera.
Now memories flooded him —her nervousness the night before, him calming her down. That day, they’d all been over the moon about it. He, Delia and Max were almost as excited as she was and had come to the studio for the first taping. She’d looked great, too; he’d given her that apron with the name of the show stitched on the front.
“Oh!” she said, seated next to him. “The music is familiar. It’s familiar. ”
Lord, was this going to bring everything back? Was he ready for that? “Maybe it’s too soon.”
“No, it feels right.” Her eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “My hair…” She touched her own short curls. “I look good with it long.”
“You look good with it short, too. And if you don’t like the style now, your hair grows fast.”
Mesmerized, she stared at the TV. So did he.
“W ELCOME TO C LARISSA’S K ITCHEN . Today we’re going to make Chicken Rosie, a recipe my great-aunt taught me.” She laughed and the camera panned in on her, capturing the amused twinkle in her beautiful green eyes. “Aunt Rosie didn’t work in amounts. This recipe came to me orally, in directions that read a package of chicken, some tomatoes, artichokes if you can find them…”
A S SHE SPOKE , she chatted about her grandmother’s sister, whom Brady had never met. But he knew that she was big and round, with white hair and a huge smile.
“I’ M GOING TO BROWN the chicken, but not too much.” Grease sizzled in the pan. “Don’t make the mistake of letting it get too done, because it’ll cook more when everything’s combined. Meanwhile chop up the onions, tomatoes, olives and broccoli.”
She picked up a jar of tomato sauce. “This is my homemade sauce, canned early this year, but you can use grocery store sauce if you want.”
“Y UCK ,” C LARE SAID ALOUD in the living room. She had a very familiar look on her face.
Brady laughed. “You remember you were a purist, huh?”
“I guess. I’d never eat sauce from a jar.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
She glanced at him as a commercial came on. “Was I a snob?”
“About food you were.”
“Just that?”
He hesitated.
She put the CD on Pause. “Brady, I’ve pieced together that I worked too much. And I wasn’t close to people anymore, like Delia and Max. And obviously you.” She nodded to the screen. “Was I that way when the show started?”
“Not when it started. The four of us were best friends and did a lot together.”
“Like what?”
“We played cards in a euchre group and we socialized with the other players. We had a bowling team. A dinner group.”
“Hmm. How sad that we stopped that.”
He nodded to the CD, wanting to get out of this discussion. “Let’s get you back
When she and Brady reached the checkout line, something else occurred to her. “Do I have tapes of the shows, Brady?”
“Uh-huh, from the studio.”
“I’d like to watch this one, then make the meal.”
Without speaking, he paid the cashier. He had a bad feeling about her watching the show that had, in the long run, taken her away from him.
“I’ll stop if I get a headache or upset.”
“I don’t think you should rush your memory.”
“I won’t.”
Though he was worried about this step, he was pleased about one thing. Over the course of the past few days, she’d taken to asking his opinion, his permission sometimes, like she used to in the old days. It had gone both ways and they’d spent a lot of years consulting each other on choices and decisions to be made. It was only right that she should now, after what they’d meant to each other.
When they got back to her place, Brady found the show’s CDs packed away in a cabinet and stuck the one she wanted, labeled by the meal, in the player. Sitting next to her on the couch, he watched as she came on and smiled out at the camera.
Now memories flooded him —her nervousness the night before, him calming her down. That day, they’d all been over the moon about it. He, Delia and Max were almost as excited as she was and had come to the studio for the first taping. She’d looked great, too; he’d given her that apron with the name of the show stitched on the front.
“Oh!” she said, seated next to him. “The music is familiar. It’s familiar. ”
Lord, was this going to bring everything back? Was he ready for that? “Maybe it’s too soon.”
“No, it feels right.” Her eyes widened as she stared at the screen. “My hair…” She touched her own short curls. “I look good with it long.”
“You look good with it short, too. And if you don’t like the style now, your hair grows fast.”
Mesmerized, she stared at the TV. So did he.
“W ELCOME TO C LARISSA’S K ITCHEN . Today we’re going to make Chicken Rosie, a recipe my great-aunt taught me.” She laughed and the camera panned in on her, capturing the amused twinkle in her beautiful green eyes. “Aunt Rosie didn’t work in amounts. This recipe came to me orally, in directions that read a package of chicken, some tomatoes, artichokes if you can find them…”
A S SHE SPOKE , she chatted about her grandmother’s sister, whom Brady had never met. But he knew that she was big and round, with white hair and a huge smile.
“I’ M GOING TO BROWN the chicken, but not too much.” Grease sizzled in the pan. “Don’t make the mistake of letting it get too done, because it’ll cook more when everything’s combined. Meanwhile chop up the onions, tomatoes, olives and broccoli.”
She picked up a jar of tomato sauce. “This is my homemade sauce, canned early this year, but you can use grocery store sauce if you want.”
“Y UCK ,” C LARE SAID ALOUD in the living room. She had a very familiar look on her face.
Brady laughed. “You remember you were a purist, huh?”
“I guess. I’d never eat sauce from a jar.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
She glanced at him as a commercial came on. “Was I a snob?”
“About food you were.”
“Just that?”
He hesitated.
She put the CD on Pause. “Brady, I’ve pieced together that I worked too much. And I wasn’t close to people anymore, like Delia and Max. And obviously you.” She nodded to the screen. “Was I that way when the show started?”
“Not when it started. The four of us were best friends and did a lot together.”
“Like what?”
“We played cards in a euchre group and we socialized with the other players. We had a bowling team. A dinner group.”
“Hmm. How sad that we stopped that.”
He nodded to the CD, wanting to get out of this discussion. “Let’s get you back
Similar Books
