Auntie Edna looked up to see Kate take her place at the end of the line, and waved her forward with an imperial gesture. My niece, she said, very important, busy person. Everyone else shifted their feet and sighed and sulked and Kate could feel their resentful glances boring into her back, but none of them was so foolish as to walk away and lose their place in line.

When did you get started in the take-out business, Auntie?

Auntie Edna, normally an Olympic-class grump and hands down the sourest of the four aunties, this fair summer evening looked happier than Kate had ever seen her. Some boys follow their noses to my kitchen on Memorial Day, she said, aiming a beam of Auntie Joy–wattage at the line. Other boys follow. Good eaters, all them boys. She lowered her voice. And good payers, too.

Over her shoulder Kate saw that Auntie Edna had borrowed some of the larger pots from the school cafeteria, which sat steaming on a stove with all four burners on high. Tacked next to the door was a hand-lettered menu, beginning with bagoong. Kate toted up her order and was ready with her tab when Auntie Edna handed out a full bag, and almost went into shock when Auntie Edna waived payment. My niece, she told the line, turning Kate to face them, hands on her shoulders holding her on the top step. She make mine happen. She why you here. Okay, next? A firm shove and Kate was displaced on the top step by the next in line.

The combined smells liked to drive Kate insane before she got to the homestead, and she was conscious enough to look guilty when Jim raised an eyebrow at how few lumpia had survived the trip. It wasn‘t her fault. Lumpia was finger food. You can‘t eat long rice and drive at the same time. Did you know Auntie Edna is running a take-out restaurant out of her kitchen?

He nodded. I‘d heard something about it.

She shook her head. Auntie Vi sells her B and B, Auntie Balasha is selling kuspuks at the Riverside Café, now Auntie Edna is selling Filipino takeout out her back door. What next?

I‘ll set the table while you shower, he said, and picked her up and kissed her. She kicked him in the shins with one of her dangling feet, but not very hard. Jim pulled all the leftovers out of the refrigerator to join what Kate had brought home, which didn‘t look like anywhere near enough to either his eye or his stomach. Fifteen minutes later they sat down to a meal that while it adhered to no particular nutritional guideline was immensely satisfying. Jim had even sliced some sashimi from a fresh king filet he found in the refrigerator and mixed up a wasabi–soy sauce accompaniment.

All was quiet for a time, and then Jim sat back and burped in a very satisfied manner. I might live.

Me, too. So how was your day, dear?