Chapter 22: Across the Street

I set two places at the kitchen island that evening and used the good plates.

Cody had gone to Durham for the night to see his father at Carlton's brother's.

He had made me promise to text him a picture of whatever I cooked.

I made lasagna, because it was the only thing I could make for a firefighter that would still be good if he was late.

At seven the doorbell rang.

Sam stood on the porch holding a bottle of wine and a bag of garlic bread from the good bakery.

He had put on a clean shirt and not quite buttoned the collar.

"You rang the bell," I said.

"It's your house."

"You've walked in without ringing before."

"That was when I was walking in for a reason." He held up the bread. "Tonight I'm a guest."

"You're early."

"I was afraid I'd talk myself out of it."

I took the bottle and the bread and stood back to let him in.

He stopped at the hall.

My wedding photo was not back on the wall.

Cody's school portrait was gone from the staircase wall too, and a pale rectangle showed where each had hung.

"What goes there?" he said.

"I don't know yet."

It was the first ordinary meal anyone had eaten in that kitchen in a month.

Sam asked about the claims I'd opened that day.

I told him about the man who had backed his truck into a flood and called it an act of God.

He laughed so hard he had to put his fork down.

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