Pat wanted to put some of the leftovers back in the refrigerator—it was a waste to re-heat all of the food if Grace was going to prepare a large meal—but she wasn’t too keen on getting close to Grace while she was wielding a large knife. Picking up Duchess, she retreated to the family room.

She didn’t want to intrude on Monica’s reunion with her birth mother, but she had to warn Troy about this woman.

12

Dinner was, in Troy’s opinion, outstanding. He hadn’t eaten meatloaf in years, but Grace might have prepared the best damned meatloaf he’d ever eaten in his life. The mashed potatoes were sublime, seasoned with a flavorful blend of butter, garlic, rosemary, parsley, and salt. The chopped salad, comprised of romaine lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, and cucumbers, was drizzled with a tangy, balsamic-like dressing that made Troy salivate. The homemade biscuits were fluffy as clouds.

The kids ate their entire portions of their meals, too, a rare occurrence. Junior could be counted on to devour whatever you put in front of him, but Lexi was notoriously picky and could rarely be persuaded to eat anything outside of mac-and-cheese, pizza, yogurt, and chicken tenders.

Duchess hadn’t been left out, either. Grace prepared something for the Maltese—it looked like cooked ground beef—and dished it into the dog’s ceramic feeding bowl (which Troy noticed had been moved to the farthest corner of the kitchen). Duchess consumed the meat eagerly, tail wagging, and trotted back to Grace begging for more, her prior animosity toward the woman forgotten.

For his part, after comfort food of that caliber, Troy was willing to forgive Grace’s earlier, inappropriate behavior toward him. Perhaps the woman was a tad bit eccentric. Maybe she didn’t understand personal boundaries. He could probably accept her oddities, so long as she kept wielding her sorcery in the kitchen.

It was too bad that Monica missed out; even the delicious aromas wafting through the house had failed to rouse her. Grace insisted on letting her rest, and Troy agreed with her. Monica had endured an emotional roller-coaster that day, extreme highs and equally dramatic lows, and it was understandable that she’d be up there in their bedroom, dead to the world.

“I’ll say it again,” Troy said, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. “That was fantastic, Grace. You’re going to have to visit us more often.”

“As they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Grace smiled. “Are you sure you won’t have any, Pat, before I clear away the dishes?”

“I’m full.” Troy’s mother offered a thin smile.