“You ate half of them.”
“I was quality testing.”
Easy laughter filled the table.
Amanda smiled as well, though tears shimmered in her eyes.
She was not paying attention to the jokes.
She was watching the rhythm.
The effortless way the girls completed my sentences.
The way I reached for Grace’s glass before she noticed it was empty.
The way Amelia automatically collected the dishes while Lily wrapped the leftover bread because that was simply how our evenings worked.
No one had taught them that during one conversation.
It had developed quietly over thousands of ordinary dinners.
When the meal ended, Amanda helped carry dishes to the sink.
She stood beside me for a moment.
“I thought…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I really believed if I came back with enough money… I could give them everything I couldn’t before.”
I dried a plate before answering.
“Childhood doesn’t wait for anyone.”
She closed her eyes.
When she reached the front door, Amelia hurried after her.
Amanda turned quickly.
Hope flashed across her expression.
Amelia offered her one last recipe card.
It was blank.
Across the top, in my handwriting, were six words.
When life gives you another chance…
Amanda stared at it in confusion.
“I don’t know what belongs underneath.”
