“On it. You good with kimchi fried rice?” They needed to have their dinner before they opened at five.

“I’m always good with kimchi fried rice. And can I have my egg sunny-side up?”

“Duh. Of course.” Like she wouldn’t know her brother’s preferences. Jack liked his sunny-side up, Alex liked his over easy, and Tara liked hers over medium. “Coming right up.”

She took care to make fragrant green-onion oil as the base before adding the kimchi to the lightly sizzling pan. Once the kimchi was nearly translucent, she mixed in a spoonful of chili paste for its pretty red color and extra spice, then added some day-old rice into the mouthwatering sauté. After the rice and the sautéed kimchi were thoroughly combined, she lowered the heat to let the rice crisp on the bottom. While it did that, she fried up made-to-order eggs. Tara scooped up the finished fried rice into a rounded bowl, pushing it down compactly, then upturned it onto the waiting plate, and repeated. She lovingly placed the fried eggs on top of the perfect domes of deliciousness, then sprinkled some toasted sesame seeds on top.

“Voilà,” she said with a chef’s kiss and carried the plates to the small table in the kitchen. Then she poked her head out to the dining hall. “Dinner is served.”

Tara waited, spoon in hand, for her brother to join her. She was beyond ready to pop her yolk and take that perfect first bite.

“This looks amazing. As usual,” Jack said, taking a seat across from her. “Your kimchi fried rice is the best. When are we going to add it to the menu?”

“I’m the brewer, not the cook. The kitchen is still Mom’s domain.”

“Don’t you think it’s getting a bit too much for her?” he said between bites.

“Oh, my galloping horses. If you say that in front of Mom, you won’t even get a chance to say, ‘I’m too young to die!’” Tara joked, but she really didn’t like thinking about her parents growing old. Where they became the vulnerable ones who needed to be taken care of. They were her anchor. “She’s not even sixty yet. She has at least forty more years in her.”

“I guess you’re right.” He’d already finished off his plate. “Besides, I am too young to die.”

“Who’s too young to die?” Their mom bustled in from the side door. “Oh, Lord. Is someone sick?”

Tara shot a glance at Jack, bringing her thumb and index finger just a hair’s width away from touching. Thiiiis close, she mouthed to him. Then turned to her mom, who was preparing to get agitated.

“Mom, have you been binge watching that morning K-drama? No one is dying.”

“But I heard Jack say something—”

“It was just a figure of speech,” Jack said, clearing his dishes to the sink.

“Fine, but don’t any of you dare keep secrets from me. If you do, I’m just going to assume the worst.”

The guilt poking at her made Tara shift from foot to foot. “Course not.”