Once they were out of hearing range, Phoebe gave her mom a sideways glance. “Is he staying the night?”
“If he has to. We can’t just send him on his way with the roads in this condition.”
Phoebe wrinkled her nose. “It will be awkward.”
Mom sighed. “I know you have feelings for him, and I also know you're upset about the gossip surrounding him and that actress, but that’s no excuse for poor hospitality.”
“I wasn’t saying to kick him out.” She leaned her head back and blew out a breath. “I don’t know what I’m saying other than this stinks.”
Coming to her side, Mom wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Since it appears you’re both snowbound here, maybe you can have that long overdue conversation about your feelings for each other.”
She snorted then coughed on her laughter. “That’s funny. It couldn’t be more obvious he feels nothing but friendship for me.”
“If you say so.” Mom smiled then peered inside the oven. “Never underestimate the power of a fireside chat.”
“Mom.” She drew the word out into several syllables as a warning to drop the subject. “Do you have any bread to go with dinner?”
“There’s a loaf of French bread on top of the refrigerator. Could you hand it to me, please? I’ll pop it into the oven to warm.”
“Do you remember when we were little, and you always let us have ice cream on snow days?” She stretched to reach the top of the fridge.
“Only when you were little?” Mom took the bread from her. “Look inside the freezer.”
She didn’t fight the temptation and pulled on the handle. “Neapolitan and cookies and cream. Nice.”
“Your father loves his ice cream. That’s how the tradition began.”
Resuming salad prep, she arranged the cucumbers in even rows. “How so?”
“You were just a toddler, and Jessa was four or five. The forecast predicted a massive blizzard, and your dad declared if he had to be stuck at home for a week, then he’d have ice cream to enjoy. We stocked up on necessities, but ice cream was our luxury.” Mom pulled the ziti from the oven. “Jessa insisted on a bowl, and she shared it you. When the next storm came around, that’s what she remembered about it and asked for ice cream. The rest is history.”
“Other kids at school called it weird, then privately told me they wished they had cool parents like mine.”
“Every kid deserves the occasional splurge.”
“I can’t fathom eating ice cream right after coming in from playing in the snow, but we were kids, so what did we know.”
“The four of you would play for hours. Somewhere I still have your old snowsuits.”
She cringed. “I looked ridiculous in those hideous things.”
“No, you didn’t, and they kept you warm.”
“I’m glad fashion and technology have developed new gear to keep me warm without looking like a giant pink marshmallow.”
Mom chuckled under her breath. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“We’ll pull out the old photos later, and I’ll prove it to you.”
“Oh good. I can show Mac your pottytraining pictures.”
“Mom!” she screeched in horror.
“Don’t worry. I don’t even know where they are.” Mom tousled her hair like she would a child then lifted the pan of baked ziti with two potholders. “I’ll set the table if you get drinks and napkins ready.”
Dad sat at the head of the table, and Mom sat across from him. That left Phoebe to sit beside Mac or across from him and have to see him the entire time. She opted to sit across from him so she wouldn’t accidentally bump his knee or elbow.
The radio played in the background, left on an AM station courtesy of Dad. Two middle-aged men debated the latest in politics and the upcoming elections. Phoebe tuned them out and listened to her dad catch up with Mac.
