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“Chile de árbol is spicy, but not as hot as Habanero.” Dylantosses a handful of diced white onions into the blender along with the tomatoes and peppers. “It’s right on the edge of hot and medium on the Scoville scale.”
“Chili peppers have three times more Vitamin C than oranges.” Edward is at my side.
He pulled a black, long-sleeved hoodie over his tee, and he’s holding the little gray kitten under his chin.
“It’s true.” Dylan smiles at him. “They can help you lose weight and reduce blood pressure, too.”
“Some people think peppers cause stomach upset, but it’s actually the opposite.” My brother only needs a little encouragement to turn into a walking encyclopedia. “Capsaicin increases the good bacteria in your gut.”
“That does it, you’re hired!” Dylan laughs. “I’ll have you walk around singing the praises of my peppers to our customers.”
“I can be the guinea pig and taste them.” I don’t know the facts, but I do love a hot pepper. “I’ve never met a pepper I won’t try!”
“Be sure to wash your hands with the coconut oil.” Craig taps my shoulder as he passes on his way to the dishwasher. “You don’t want any of that stuff in your eyes or your nose… or your coochie.”
“That can make for some potentially embarrassing situations.” Dylan cuts her eyes at him, and Craig snorts, lifting the lid off the dishwasher and taking out several large, silver bowls.
“Especially if you’re busted helping your fiancé clean it off his?—”
“Craig Schiffer!” Dylan’s voice goes loud, and he waves a hand.
“Nevermind!”
They’re laughing and having so much fun, and I can’t help remembering what Zane said about my father leaving their parents holding the bag on this place. It weighs heavily in my chest, but it looks like things worked out for them.
Still, I wonder if Dylan knows, and if she doesn’t know, Iwonder if she’d still be my friend. But how could she not know if Zane does?
“Is that my kitten?” Dylan lifts her chin at Edward, and he nods.
“He looks like a Russian Blue, but it would be impossible for him to be a pure breed.” He holds out the little guy. “Miss Gina doesn’t know the father cat.”
“Where’s Miss Gina this evening?” Dylan turns to me.
“Home.” I shrug. “I asked her if she wanted to join us tonight, but she said she was exhausted from leg day.”
“Aunt Deedaaaay!” Jack’s daughter’s voice echoes through the restaurant just before she bursts into the kitchen. “Daddy said I can have a special treat today, because I didn’t drop a stick all week!”
Kimmie Joy is a blue-eyed, curly brown-haired ball of loud energy.
Dylan’s frown mirrors mine. “What does it mean to drop a stick?”
“It means I didn’t walk in a straight line or I didn’t stop talking during reading circle or I didn’t wash my hands after bathroom break or I didn’t take my tray to the window after lunch or I didn’t?—”
“Jeez Louise, Peanut!” Craig walks over to where Kimmie is counting off on her fingers, scooping her up and onto his hip. “That’s a lot of don’ts.”
She puts her small hand on his shoulder, eyes round. “First grade is a lot harder than kindergarten, Uncle Craig.”
Dylan pulls her lips between her teeth, fighting a laugh before patting her little back. “I bet Uncle Craig can find you a treat.”
“A kitten!” she cries, wiggling to get down. “Can I have a kitten, too? What’s his name?”
“He doesn’t have a name.” Edward motions at Dylan. “Your aunt has to name him.”
“Nope!” Craig cuts in. “Dylan is not allowed to name pets. She’ll call himmushroomorquinoaor some other type of food.”
“I wouldn’t name him either of those things!” Dylan cries. “Why don’t you take him out back, and I’ll let you two come up with a name for him.”
Edward nods, dutifully obeying Dylan’s orders. Kimmie hops along beside him, reaching up to touch any part of the kitten she can reach through his arms.
