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“I brought food to make us lunch.” I picked up the paper bag and went into the kitchen just beyond the living room, satisfied she was telling me the truth.
“I’m heading to my room,” Zoey said as she zipped around us and down the short hall that led to a small second bedroom. It had once been mine as a child, but once Zoey was born, Mom painted over the blue with pink and added various flowers along the walls to make it look like we were in a garden.
I took out the ingredients and laid them on her small counter. I offered to buy her a new house when I’d made my first million. She refused. Our house held memories she treasured, and she didn’t want to leave that behind.
When I knew she was never moving, I asked to update her space, which she also refused. I didn’t want to push her, but Mom had worked so hard throughout her lifetime that she deserved for me to care for her now.
She took a seat on the counter stool. “You’re making my favorite! Chicken a l’orange.”
“With steamed broccoli and rice,” I added.
“You spoil me.” She rested her elbows on the formica surface, watching me.
“And you deserve it. I mean, you had to put up with me.” I’d been a sullen, angry child after Dad left, and through it all, Mom was my rock.
“All true.” She grinned. “Now tell me about the Halloween party. Did Zoey have fun?”
I nodded. “She did.”
Mom cocked her head to the side. “What happened?”
“What makes you think anything happened?”
She propped her hands under her chin. “Do you honestly think I can’t tell when you’re avoiding something or lying?”
I snickered. “No.” Mom could sniff out a lie a mile away when it came to me. It was why I typically shared the truth.
Zoey’s voice filtered to us from her room as she either talked to herself or the many stuffed animals on her bed. I lowered mine, just in case she came out into the hallway. “Marjorie and Glen showed up at the party.”
“They did not.” Mom’s scandalized tone made me feel my anger that night was justifiable.
“We had words…” I trailed off, not wanting to get into it with Zoey so close. No matter how I felt, I didn’t want her to know there was tension between me and her grandparents.
“And Zoey?” she whispered.
“She didn’t see any of it.” I grabbed a knife from the knife block and cut the chicken breast into smaller pieces.
Mom breathed out a sigh of relief. “What were they thinking?”
“They said Zo invited them.”
“Oh, come on. They’re not stupid. They had to have known that was a bad idea.”
“I don’t think they care. They’re upset I haven’t let Zo visit since I was notified they were seeking custody.” I finished cutting the chicken and washed my hands before scraping the pieces into a glass baking dish I pulled from the cabinets.
“Would you consider letting her see them?”
I shook my head. “I don’t feel comfortable with her being alone with them, and right now, I can’t stand to be in their presence.” I chopped garlic with more force than was necessary before cutting slices into the onion I’d brought.
“Is Zoey asking about them?”
I put down the knife I was using and grabbed an orange. “She is,” I muttered.
“Honey, it’s no reflection on you that she wants to see them.” I hated and loved how she saw the truth within me.
I sprinkled in garlic and olive oil with the chicken, mixed it, and laid the onion and orange slices on top. After turning on the oven and popping the dish inside, I leaned against the counter.
“She and Heather lived with them. Of course she misses their time together.”