“I thought y’all got lost.” She slid her feet off the stool beside her. “How’d the tour go?”
“Good,” Helmut said. “I showed her the old neighborhood.”
“And the high school?”
He nodded.
“And the spot behind the football field?”
His eyes narrowed.
“What happened behind the football field?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
Jojo laughed. “Sure. And I’ve never eaten a piece of chocolate cake after midnight.” She stood and picked up her purse. “I leftbread, cheese, tomatoes, and avocados in the kitchen. Make sure he cleans the grill before he cooks your sandwich.”
“A little bacon grease adds flavor,” Helmut said.
“It also adds bacon,” I said.
He frowned. “You don’t eat that either?”
“No meat means no meat.”
Jojo patted his cheek. “You’ll figure it out.”
After she left, Helmut shifted awkwardly beside the counter. “You want to sit down while I make us a couple of sandwiches?”
“Can I help?”
His face brightened. “Come on back.”
The kitchen was quiet without the noise of the lunch rush. Helmut filled a bucket with soapy water and attacked the grill with a scrubber.
“You don’t have to strip off the top layer of metal,” I teased.
“Jojo said to clean the grill.” His movements slowed. “I’ve missed twenty-five years of taking care of you. Let me do this one thing right.”
My breath caught.
He set down the scrubber. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what I’m supposed to ask or what you want to know. I don’t even know what you like to eat.”
“Neither do I most of the time.”
His brows drew together.
“I’ve spent years eating whatever kept me in pageant shape. Egg whites, steamed vegetables, salad without dressing. Food wasn’t supposed to be enjoyable. It was fuel.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
He resumed cleaning the grill. “What did you like when you were little?”
“Oh, gosh. Macaroni and cheese. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Anything lemon.”
“Your mama loved lemon cake.”
