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“I could always use a hand in the kitchen,” she replied, motioning me forward. “And I have fresh coffee.”
The allure of coffee was too much to resist. I followed her into the kitchen, my eyes widening at all the food spread across the kitchen island. A turkey sat on a platter, waiting to get stuff shoved up its cavity.
“Sugar and cream, right?” she asked.
I smiled a little. “You remembered.”
“I think the key to the start of any good relationship is to remember how the other person likes their coffee.”
“Cam doesn’t really like coffee.” The moment those words left my mouth, I flushed.
His mom pretended not to notice my red face. “No, he’s not big on coffee. Milk, on the other hand…”
“He drinks milk while eating Chinese.” I shuddered. “It’s so gross.”
She laughed as she handed me the coffee. “He get’s that from his father. Teresa is the same way. Speaking of which, you will be meeting her within the next couple of hours.”
Knots formed in my stomach. Meeting his sister made me anxious.
“Have you made stuffing before?” she asked, moving over to the island.
“No.” I joined her on the other side, eyeing the loaves of bread, onions, milk, and eggs.
“My daughter usually helps me in the morning,” she said, placing the dishtowel on the counter. “It’s not difficult at all, so you’re more than welcome to help or keep me company.”
“I can help. What can I do.”
Mrs. Hamilton’s smile was wide. “If you could start with the bread, that would be perfect. All you need to do is break them up in this bowl.” She pointed to a large blue one. “When you’ve finished the loaf, we’ll move on to the next step.”
“Okay.” I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and rolled up my sleeves, then washed my hands quickly.
“That’s a pretty bracelet,” she commented as she started chopping the onion into small chunks.
“Thank you.” I tore apart the bread, probably a little harder than necessary. “Cam told me that his sister was at a dance recital?”
“In Pittsburg,” she said, pride pouring into her voice. “It was an invitation only recital. Richard and I would’ve gone, but we wanted to be home for Cameron. Teresa understands though. We rarely miss any of her dances.”
I finished the loaf. “What’s next?”
“Onions, butter, milk, and seasoning. You get to mush it all with your hands.”
I waited for her to dump in the ingredients. As she did so, she told me how much she thought should go in and then I sunk my hands into the gooey mess. Grinning, I laughed. “Okay, this feels kind of weird.”
“It does. At least you’re not eating it.”
“Raw?”
“Yep, Cameron and Teresa both would try to eat it raw.”
I made a face as I smushed everything together so that the milk and butter would evenly distributed through the bread. After wiping my hands clean, I moved onto the second loaf of bread. “I used to dance,” I admitted.
“Cameron mentioned that.”
My hands stilled around the bread. He’d told his parents that? I wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“I would’ve known if he hadn’t said anything,” she commented as she dropped some of the onions in my bowl. “You still move like a dancer.” She smiled. “I danced and watching Teresa over the years, you come to be able to recognize that in others.”
“It’s nice to hear that. I mean, I don’t feel like I still do.”
