I sighed and got out the Tupperware.
I was writing labels on masking tape—chiliand the date—when I heard a car pull up. I flipped on the outside light and opened the back door.
Ash unfolded himself from the car. He looked the same and not the same as the boy who used to wait for me thirty-five years ago, same lean face and thoughtful eyes, same bony wrists and shoulders. His thick chestnut hair was graying now. He needed a haircut.
No wonder the church ladies brought him casseroles when I was in the hospital.
Beth retrieved her guitar case from the trunk.
“Chili’s still hot,” I said.
Beth smiled and shook her head. “I’m not very hungry.”
“You need to eat something.”
“I had a candy bar at the rehab center. Sorry,” Beth said. “I’ll get some later.”
I looked at Ash. “What about you?”
He smiled, just a little. “Are you asking if I’ve spoiled my appetite?”
I snorted. “I packed some in a Tupperware for you and Dan. If you’re hungry.”
“That was kind of you.”
His smile had faded. Foolishly, I wanted it back. “Or I suppose you could come in.”
We looked at each other for a minute. The tiny lines around his eyes deepened. I felt a throb of the old attraction. “Thank you.”
So, there we were, the two of us getting ready for supper, as if I’d never kicked him out.
He opened a drawer. “You moved the forks.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.”
He moved around me, setting the table. “I did live here for fifteen years.”
“But you didn’t use to be so handy in the kitchen.”
“You mean, I couldn’t find the coffeepot without your help,” he said drily.
I smothered a laugh. “To be fair, I never asked you to do much.”
“I never offered. I like to think I’ve learned something since we separated.”
I nodded. “How to take care of yourself.”
He met my gaze. “That I should have taken better care of you.”
Oh. I cleared my throat. “How do you like living with Dan?”
“He’s a good man. Quiet. Keeps to himself.”
“You must appreciate that.”
He shrugged. “I’m getting used to it.”
I didn’t know how to respond. When our girls were young, I was always telling them to hush.“Don’t worry your father.” “Don’t botheryour father.”“Your father is working,” I’d say whenever Ash holed himself up in his office for hours at a time.
