The clock in the kitchen read 10:05. He’d slept hard last night. He opened the refrigerator still half in a daze, just like when he’d been back in school.

Only, one glance into the refrigerator brought him back to reality. Where the whole milk used to be was now soymilk, and fake butter. At least the eggs looked normal.

He got lucky with ready-packaged salad spinach that looked halfway decent in the bottom drawer, but the cheese was low-calorie. Will it even melt? He read the ingredients. Cheese food? He tossed it back in the fridge. The bacon was pre-cooked. It would have to do.

A little more scrounging turned up a jackpot. Someone must have sent them a gift basket for the holidays, because he found a few packs of still-sealed designer cheeses. A reserve apple smoked cheddar and a Sicilian jack cheese. He could work with that.

He texted Dawn.

Good morning, sis. Can I cook you breakfast? Mom’s at bridge.

Was just going to call you, she texted back. Just finished a yoga class. Sweaty but on my way.

Funny how much being home made him realize he missed spending time with Dawn. That “out of sight, out of mind” thing was true.

Gathering ingredients, he set them on the counter and then grabbed bowls and utensils. Right where they’d always been. He walked into the pantry, and sure enough, the potatoes and onions were right in the old wooden bin Granddad had made for Mom when Andrew had only been six or seven. He remembered because when he saw it he’d thought it was a laying box for the chickens he and Dawn were raising. He’d been so disappointed when they’d told him what it really was.

He sliced two potatoes and some onion and tossed them in olive oil with some spices, then fired up the gas stove. The cast iron skillet sputtered and sizzled as he browned the home fries.

By the time his sister got there, the room was filled with the savory scents of sage, rosemary, thyme, and bacon. He salted and wilted the spinach in a separate pan.

“I come bearing gifts,” Dawn said. She plunked a thermos on the counter then raised a carton of half and half in the air like the statue of liberty. “Caffeine.”

“Girl, you always were my hero.” Andrew shook his head. “I wondered why her coffee wasn’t doing the trick. This morning I saw the label. Decaf? What’s the point?”

“Exactly!” She took down two mismatched coffee mugs. “How do you take yours?”

“Black, but I’ll use that half and half for the omelets.”

“Now we’re talking.” She poured the coffee and leaned against the counter, watching him cook.

“Do you really have to leave on Monday? Or are you just trying to keep the trip short? Ya know…”

“Because Dad and I can’t do anything but argue?” Andrew finished her sentence.