She must have found these along the lane and scrounged up this jug to display them in.
Emma has a nice eye.She’s resourceful and imaginative.I get the feeling her life may have required that of her—a way to make something from nothing.
I move to sit on the far side of the round table next to Jasmine, but as soon as my ass hits the seat—which is just as squeaky clean as the rest of the downstairs, by the way—Emma comes through the door loaded down with plates.
I immediately stand.“Let me help you.”
“It’s okay.I’ve got it.”
Jasmine and I watch as Emma closes the screen door with a foot while holding her coffee cup and a glass of orange juice in one hand, a basket of muffins in the other hand, and balancing the omelet serving platter on the flat of her forearm.
She sets everything down without mishap and takes a seat.“I got you some juice, Jasmine.”
“Thank you!”
I stare at what’s in front of me.
I’m looking at an omelet with melted cheddar cheese oozing from the sides.Emma has sliced it into three servings, one much larger than the others, which I hope is for me, and has placed a few decorative strawberries around the edge of the platter.
I’m also looking at a basket of homemade muffins bursting with blueberries and crowned with perfectly browned top crusts sprinkled with sugar.If these puppies taste anywhere near as good as they look, I may have to crawl under the table and cry like a newborn infant.
“Help yourselves,” Emma says.
I serve Jasmine a muffin and a section of omelet.I glance up at Emma, and she’s smiling at me.I can’t help it.I smile back.But I’m frozen.
“Please.Go ahead.”
I nod and load up my plate.
“Oh, wow!These are so good!”Jasmine’s already got butter smeared on her bulging cheek.She reminds me of a gerbil.“Emma!Thank you!”
“Thankyou.We did it together.”
I try not to stuff my face like Jasmine, but I fail.When I finish my eggs and two muffins slathered in way too much butter, I decide to come up for air.I look across the table, and the words slip out before I can stop myself.
“Hellyes, Emma.”I lick my lips.
“Dad!”
After we all laugh, I clear my throat.“What I meant to say is,thank you, Emma.This is absolutely delicious, and I appreciate it more than you know.”
As I grab muffin number three, I admit that Phyllis going behind my back and hiring Emma was the best thing I never did.
I’m in more trouble than I thought.
CHAPTER 25
Emma
Seeing Jasmine and Finn eat with such delight brings me a lot of satisfaction.It’s been a long time since I’ve baked from scratch, and never with such high-quality ingredients across the board.I eat my omelet and muffin and have to say that if my arms were longer, I’d be patting myself on the back.
I prop my elbow on the table, rest my chin upon the heel of my hand, and just enjoy seeing them happy.I’m pretty sure that this is what is meant by a family meal, what it’s supposed to be like.Real food prepared by and for people who actually enjoy gathering around a table together.A table where there’s laughter and compliments and appreciation.
What a joy it is to cook for those who notice the effort.
It’s sad to admit, but it’s my first time.In my life, I’ve prepared thousands of meals in cramped and dirty kitchens for tables full of assorted kids and adults, but they were nevermyfamily.Never ahappyfamily.And definitely nothing anywhere near this delicious.
It was usually boxed macaroni and cheese, peanut butter on white bread, and cheap hot dogs cut up into cans of baked beans.
