DJ removed his thumb from his mouth. “Pizza.”
“Pizza, pizza, Mommy!” Daisy chanted.
Trey held up his phone with a smile. “I’ve got Domino’s on my favorites list.”
Maybe I wasn’t a chef like Jo. But if I’d learned anything from our mother, it was how to stretch a meal to feed an extra mouth. I could manage one home-cooked meal for Trey, the boy I’d known since high school. John’s boss.
“Don’t be silly. By the time they deliver, I can have dinner on the table,” I said.
The answering machine in the kitchen was blinking. John, telling me Trey was coming to dinner.
I poured canned stock and cream of chicken soup into a pot. Mixed together flour, salt, baking powder, butter, adding just enough milk to make a sticky dough. I rolled it out, cut it into strips, and dropped the dumplings into the broth to simmer while I attacked the chicken.
“Something smells good,” John said while I set the table.
“Chicken and dumplings.”
Trey grinned. “You’re amazing.”
I blushed with pleasure.
“Can I help?” John asked.
I smiled and shook my head. “All under control.” Well. Almost under control. DJ had stripped to his diaper and was squatting on his heels while Daisy fed him crackers one by one. “Come on, kitties,” I coaxed. “Time for dinner.”
“DJ no key,” Daisy said. “He a puppy.”
“Ruff, ruff,” DJ said.
“Okay, big dog.” John lifted him by the waist, making him shriek with delight. “Let’s wash those paws.”
“Careful,” I said automatically.
“I a puppy!” Daisy said as John carried a kicking, giggling DJ off to the bathroom under one arm. “Daddy, I a puppy, too!”
“Let me open some wine,” Trey said.
It was a relief to sit down to supper. Of course, the twins had no appetite. All those crackers. But eventually they ate enough that I could wipe their hands and set them up with coloring books in the kitchen.
“You should get those kids a dog,” Trey said when I returned.
“We’ve talked about it,” John said.
“We will. When they’re a little older,” I said.
“Be good for teaching them responsibility,” Trey said.
I smiled at him affectionately. “Which is why you never had one.”
“I always wanted a dog,” John said.
But who would end up feeding it? Walking it? Cleaning the yard? Me, that’s who. I swallowed some wine, searching for another subject. “I saw Miss Hannah today. She’s coming over to watch the twins on Saturday. So we can go to Sallie’s party.”
“Great.” John dug into his bowl. “Did you talk to her about hiring somebody to help out at the farm?”
“Sort of.”
John put down his fork. “Meg, we agreed you can’t do it all yourself.”
