Page 13
Story: The Last Straw
He waited for further instructions, but when she stayed silent, he sighed.
“Want me to take it out?”
“You’ll have to if you want to eat it,” she said.
He rolled his eyes, grabbed a couple of pot holders and opened the oven door, pulled out some kind of casserole in a foil container and set it on a burner to cool.
“Smells good. You outdid yourself tonight,” he drawled.
“It’s supposed to be beef Stroganoff...or something like that, but it’s basically beef tips and noodles in sauce. There’s stuff for salad in the refrigerator—if you can handle a pair of scissors to open the bag of salad greens, then follow the directions.”
He frowned. “You’re exceptionally pissy tonight. What’s wrong?”
He heard her sigh, then watched her shoulders slump.
“You’re going to be mad, so I thought I’d just be mad first and save you the trouble.”
His frown deepened.
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you while we eat. You do better with food in your belly.”
“I am not a savage beast to be tamed with a thick piece of steak,” he muttered.
“It’s beef tips and noodles, and yes, you are.”
“Fine. I’ll make the salad,” he said.
She added a handful of the little tomatoes to the bowl of greens, then carried the casserole to the table while he stirred the dressing into the salad.
They sat, then looked up at each other over empty plates.
“What happened?” Charlie asked.
“You haven’t take a bite of—”
“Dammit, Wyrick. I am not your priest. I’m your friend, and when you remember to acknowledge it...I am also your boss. Talk to me.”
And so she did, from beginning to end.
“Shit,” Charlie muttered when she stopped talking. “Were you scared?”
“No. But by the time I got through with him, he was,” she said.
Relief washed through him.
“You said you got a picture of his driver’s license?”
She nodded.
“After dinner you will send it to me, please. You do your research. I’ll do mine. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then,” Charlie said and scooped out a big serving of the Stroganoff onto his plate, added salad next to it and took his first bite, chewed and then swallowed. “It’s good. You outdid yourself,” he said.
“Stifle the sarcasm. Next time, you cook,” she muttered, then served herself and started eating.
“Want me to take it out?”
“You’ll have to if you want to eat it,” she said.
He rolled his eyes, grabbed a couple of pot holders and opened the oven door, pulled out some kind of casserole in a foil container and set it on a burner to cool.
“Smells good. You outdid yourself tonight,” he drawled.
“It’s supposed to be beef Stroganoff...or something like that, but it’s basically beef tips and noodles in sauce. There’s stuff for salad in the refrigerator—if you can handle a pair of scissors to open the bag of salad greens, then follow the directions.”
He frowned. “You’re exceptionally pissy tonight. What’s wrong?”
He heard her sigh, then watched her shoulders slump.
“You’re going to be mad, so I thought I’d just be mad first and save you the trouble.”
His frown deepened.
“What happened?”
“I’ll tell you while we eat. You do better with food in your belly.”
“I am not a savage beast to be tamed with a thick piece of steak,” he muttered.
“It’s beef tips and noodles, and yes, you are.”
“Fine. I’ll make the salad,” he said.
She added a handful of the little tomatoes to the bowl of greens, then carried the casserole to the table while he stirred the dressing into the salad.
They sat, then looked up at each other over empty plates.
“What happened?” Charlie asked.
“You haven’t take a bite of—”
“Dammit, Wyrick. I am not your priest. I’m your friend, and when you remember to acknowledge it...I am also your boss. Talk to me.”
And so she did, from beginning to end.
“Shit,” Charlie muttered when she stopped talking. “Were you scared?”
“No. But by the time I got through with him, he was,” she said.
Relief washed through him.
“You said you got a picture of his driver’s license?”
She nodded.
“After dinner you will send it to me, please. You do your research. I’ll do mine. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, then,” Charlie said and scooped out a big serving of the Stroganoff onto his plate, added salad next to it and took his first bite, chewed and then swallowed. “It’s good. You outdid yourself,” he said.
“Stifle the sarcasm. Next time, you cook,” she muttered, then served herself and started eating.
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