Satisfied that no water has spilled, Easton’s younger sister stands, hands behind her back.
“I’ll be around if you need any refills or anything else.” She announces. “Just yell, ‘Phoebe, we need you!’ and I’ll come running!”
She turns to scamper off but stops, finger pointed in the air.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you two get the best service tonight. Phoebe’s got it under control! Chef is finishing your first course in the kitchen, and Dad put Rudy in the laundry room so he doesn’t beg for food and get in my way.”
With that, she gives a bow.
Welp. She’s adorable.
“They prepared a meal?” I muse out loud. “How did they havetime?”
Easton lays the napkin across his lap. “It’s leftover lasagna from last night—that’s the best Mom could do on such short notice.”
I smile behind my water glass. “I love that.”
From this vantage point I can clearly see his little sister clip-clopping around inside the kitchen, head bopping to and fro as they ready our last-minute dinner.
Within minutes Phoebe reappears, this time with more determination etched on her tiny face than before. She teeters our way, balancing—well,attemptingto balance—two plates of lasagnaalmost as big as she is. Her tiny arms strain. One of the white plates wobbles dangerously. Behind her, Mrs.Westermann rushes forward, arms outstretched, ready to catch the plates if they fall.
“Phoebs, honey,” she coaxes gently. “Let me help you withthat.”
Phoebe huffs, affronted by the suggestion that she can’t handle both plates on her own. “I’ve got it, Mom. I’m theserver.”
“I know you are, baby girl—but let’s not risk having the lasagna end up on the ground for the squirrels, okay?”
Easton’s mom passes a plate to him, then places the other in front of me. The delicious aroma of the leftover lasagna and garlic bread has me positively drooling.
“Ta-da!” Phoebe beams at us both. “Dinner is served. Lasagna made by Mom! It’s thechef’s special.” She gestures dramatically, as if unveiling some grand culinary masterpiece.
Easton grins at her proudly, and quite honestly, I’m so delighted right now I want to leap out of my chair and squish them both. Squeeze. Hug.
Smooch.
“This looks amazing! And I am starving!” I match Phoebe’s excitement. “Best serviceeverin the history of fine dining!”
Phoebe could not be more pleased by my praise. “Why, thank you, ma’am.Thankyou! I’ll be back to check on you soon.” She pauses. “I expect a BIG tip!”
“Big tip?” Easton raises an eyebrow, laughing. “You’re not even old enough to know what tipping is.”
Phoebe puffs out her chest. “I do know what it is! It’s three extra dollars on the table. I’m saving up for new gel pens.”
Easton’s mom laughs softly, standing behind her daughter with an amused expression.
“All right, Phoebs, enough.” She sets her hands gently onPhoebe’s shoulders and begins to guide her back toward the house. “Let them enjoy their dinner. Come on, we’ll leave them for abit.”
“Fine.” Phoebehmphs dramatically but lingers. “Hey, Harper?”
“Yes?”
“You looksopretty. I like your dress.”
My heart melts into a puddle. “Aww—thank you.”
“Also.” She lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let him eat all the garlic bread. He’s a hog andalwaystries.”
With that announcement, she turns and scampers back inside.
