“I’ll try to stop for cash on the way home.” Mom gives him a tight smile, then she turns to Landry. “But next time, submit your budget for approval before you shop.”

Landry dumps the grocery bags on the island. “You’re not staying for dinner?”

“I was going to, honey, but something came up with a case.” Mom presses a kiss to Landry’s temple, then heads back into the living room. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Save me some leftovers,” she calls as she shoves her laptop into her bag.

“I always do,” my sister says. But Mom is already halfway out the front door.

For a second, we stand there in the kitchen, looking everywhere but at one another. Then Landry reaches for the nearest grocery bag, and Penn exhales, as if her sudden motion has cut through the tension and made it okay for him to breathe. “I gotta go for a run. Can you help her unload all that?”

I nod and reach for one of the bags, but he doesn’t see my reply, because he’s jogging through the living room toward the hall.

Coward.

“So!” I set a long, green zucchini on the counter, and I manage not to gag at the sight. “What are we having with the risotto and cheesy layered rabbit food?”

Landry has been our designated family chef since shortly after Dad died. She asked for the chore. She says it’s because she’d rather make the mess than clean the mess—Penn and I get stuck with dishes—but the truth is that this is how she keeps Dad alive.

He used to cook. And even toward the end, when he basically just sat on the couch all day, he watched hour after hour of the Food Network. Landry watched with him, her feet tucked beneath her on the center cushion, her homework open on her lap. They used to talk about all the fancy meals they’d make together, just as soon as he got to feeling better.

He never got to feeling better. So she cooks in his honor. On a budget.

“French onion chicken.” Landry pulls a sealed package of thighs from her bag and shoves it into the fridge. Then she stands there with the door open, staring at the food. “She said she would be here for dinner. That’s why I made Penn take me to Walmart.”

“She was going to. But—”

“Something came up with her case. I know.” Landry closes the fridge and turns back to the island, pushing dark hair back from her face. “It’s that baby, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”