I give her a kiss, eyeing the eggplant warily. “Really? What happened to those little quiche things you make?”
“Oh, those are frozen food. This is homemade, and it’s good for you.”
I shoot her a look.
“Stop. Give it a try.”
“Okay, but we need to regulate the healthy food around here. Sometimes a little fat does a body good.”
“Mira,” she scolds in a not-at-all-serious tone.
“I have a sweet tooth, and you’re throwing eggplant at me. My body is going into shock without the preservatives and processed sugar that have sustained me for the past twenty-two years.”
Becky laughs and sets the pan on the counter. “Lewis,” she calls. “Get over here and eat the food I’ve slaved over. Mira isn’t giving it the love it deserves.”
Lewis walks into the room and catches the look I level at him. His face calm, he surveys the purple globs. “Something new, Mom?”
Becky scoops one onto a napkin and hands it to him. He takes a bite, chewing, his gaze thoughtful. “Good.” He looks up. “You should try it, Mira.”
Huh. Lewis is a bit of a human garbage disposal, but he’d probably say something if it were truly bad. And I don’t want to hurt Becky’s feelings.
I take the napkin Becky hands me. I’m hungry, so I dig in…to salt, mash, and some flavor that’s…not right.
I force back a gag and look over at Lewis. He’s hiding a grin behind his fist, his face turning red.
Bastard.
I swallow the goop that feels like it’s congealing in my throat. “Becky, I love you, but don’t ever make me eat that again.”
She punches her fists to her waist. “Mira, it can’t be that bad.”
“Have you tried it?”
Her expression turns to chagrin. “Well—no.”
I raise my eyebrow.
“Fine,” she says, scooping one up and taking a bite.
Becky’s mouth twists to the side, then she casually walks to the sink, leans over, and spits out every last bite of food in her mouth in a very unladylike manner that has Lewis and me laughing.
I smack Lewis on the arm. “Jerk. You totally set me up.”
Still laughing, he hugs me.
Becky gracefully dabs her mouth with a napkin. “That’s disgusting. It’s going in the trash.”
John, who’s been watching us while pretending to rummage through the junk drawer, walks over and gives his wife a hug. No one but Becky is a fan of her healthy phase, but we love her anyway.
Becky glares at John. He raises his hands in surrender and walks away, grinning.
Smart man.
Normally I love eating at the Sallees’ and getting my grub on. Given Becky’s latest invention, maybe she’ll dump this health-food kick.
“One bad recipe doesn’t mean anything,” she says to no one in particular. “I’ll find a delicious eggplant you guys will love.”
Or maybe this phase won’t be over so soon. Guess I’ll be starving for a while.
