“I know it’s your job,” he said, creases at his eyes, and fresh lines at his mouth.“But do you mind?I’d planned to take all of you—”
“I’ve had a long day, and a quiet evening here sounds wonderful.”
“I can bring you back something.”
“No, Jillian and I will figure out something.Don’t worry about us.Just have fun with Olivia.She deserves to be spoiled a little.She’s been wonderful.”
*
Cat stood atthe kitchen counter, listening to the echo of the front door as Rhys and Olivia headed out into the cold dark.The cottage felt strangely hollow without the chatter, without Rhys’s steady presence, and Jillian hovered in the doorway like a storm cloud, her skinny arms folded, chin tucked down.
Cat cleared her throat.“Right,” she said, determined to keep things normal.“How about we make ourselves a cheese toastie for supper?”
“No.”Jillian didn’t even look at her.
Cat nodded, not rising to it.“Probably because you don’t know how.Which is fair.But I can show you, if you like.”
Jillian’s silence was practically a statement.She stayed where she was, propped against the door frame, eyes fixed on some invisible point on the floor.
“Well then,” Cat said, digging through the cabinet for a sandwich press but finding none before briskly rolling up her sleeves.“You can watch.”
She took four slices of good farmhouse bread from the bag, laying them out on the board.“And just in case you don’t think I know the difference between an American grilled cheese sandwich and an English toasted cheese sandwich, you’re wrong.My friend Sarah, she’s my flatmate, and from Ireland—”
“Then it’s not an English toastie if she taught you,” Jillian said, finally looking at Catriona.
“Yes, but we’re not using Irish cheddar or Kerrygold butter, which Sarah says is a must for a proper sandwich.We’re using English butter and English cheese.The rest of the technique is the same, or would be, if we had a sandwich press, but since we don’t, we’re going to do it pub style.”
“Which is?”Jillian asked, more disdainful than curious.
“I will toast it under the oven’s broiler, open faced, and then fold the sandwich,” Cat explained.
“It doesn’t sound like a proper toastie at all,” Jillian sniffed.
“I guess we will just have to see.”Cat grated the block of cheddar cheese quickly, the shreds piling soft and pale-gold.She glanced at Jillian.“Would you like a bit of mustard?It gives it just enough flavor, but not enough to frighten you.”
“No.”
“Okay.Yours will be without, mine with just a dash.”Cat spread the thinnest scrape on her bread.Jillian didn’t move, but Cat noticed the subtle shift of her gaze.
“Okay, fine.I’ll try a little mustard, but only a very small amount.”
Hiding her smile, Cat added the lightest touch of mustard to Jillian’s, buttered the outside of each bread slice, assembled the sandwiches, and set it under the broiler, leaving the oven door open a few inches to keep an eye on them.A toastie maker was definitely easier, but the kitchen was already filling with the warm, sharp scent of melting cheddar.When the cheese was melted, Cat folded the sandwich and stuck it back under the broiler for a moment to toast both sides a bit more and then carried plates of neat, toasted triangles with oozing cheese to the table.
“Come sit,” she said, not commanding, just offering.
Jillian hesitated, jaw tight, but finally pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room.She slid into the chair opposite Cat, shoulders still stiff.
“Careful—it’s hot,” Cat said, lifting one triangle.
Jillian picked it up without a word.Steam curled from the center as she took a small, cautious bite.A beat passed.Then another.She kept eating, quietly, no complaints, no drama.
Just a girl with a toasted cheese sandwich after what had to have been an awful day for her too.
Cat didn’t comment.She simply ate her sandwich, grateful for the silence that, for now, felt like progress.
When they were both almost finished, Cat decided if she was going to be helpful at all—or annoying, if that was a better way to look at it—it needed to be now, before dinner was over and the opportunity was lost.
“You know my parents died when I was ten,” Cat said conversationally.“It was just a few weeks before Christmas and it was awful.I came from a small family, just me and my parents, and my dad’s mom that lived a couple hours away.”
