“And I thought you said you would clean up this time?” Titi challenged Bruno, who had come out in a silk bathrobe and ancient cotton boxers to find out what was going on.

“We did . . . oh,” Bruno said, catching sight of me and my laden tray. “Well, we thought we did. It seemed like cleaning up at the time.”

“Humph,” Titi said and thrust the mop into his hands. Bruno gazed at it blearily. The day had begun.

“I wonder where Anna and Ken are,” I said, slicing tomatoes across from Justine. Released, the fresh, keen scent of tomatoes briefly took ascendancy over the sweet scent of carrots, the pungency of onions, and the green crispness of the broccoli all waiting to be cut. The tiny brown table was laden with vegetables of all colors, all piled together at the center to make room for our mish-mash of warped cutting boards and random knives. “Of course, they didn’t say when they were leaving Paris, so they might not get here until later.”

“I think I saw a raindrop,” Mamie said from the sink. “You know, they’re announcing gales and hail for tomorrow.”

“Laura, let me know when you’re ready to go to the church,” Claudine said. “We need to get it decorated today. Mom, why are you washing those onions again?”

Mamie pressed her lips together stubbornly.

“You don’t think you’re cutting the tomatoes too small?” Justine asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Your tomato slices are a lot smaller than mine.”

I never would have noticed on my own, but mine, sliced in eighths, were indeed smaller than Justine’s. “So they are. Is that bad?”

“Don’t you think they should be the same size?”

“They’re kebabs,” I said. “What does it matter?”

She looked taken aback. “It will affect how they cook and how pretty they look.”

“Did I ever mention to you that your culture is excessively perfectionistic?” I started slicing my tomatoes in quarters with my minuscule knife. Justine had ended up with a giant cleaver. Neither were appropriate to the task, but there were only so many knives to go around.

“Have you seen the melons?” Titi came in. “I thought we had two flats.”

“They’re out in the barn, behind one of the cars.”

“Great. I’ll just take these beers with me on my way out there, free up some refrigerator room.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t you think you’re cutting those tomatoes too big?”

I gave Justine a triumphant look and went back to cutting them in eighths. A peasant wandered in and sat down at a non-spare corner of the table.