Page 48 of Thin Ice

She got me the cream and sugar, then sat down. She didn't eat. But she sat with us.

"We're cooking today," she said. "The ham goes in at noon. Pies after that. I need someone on potatoes."

"I can do potatoes," I said.

She looked at me. "You know how to peel potatoes?"

"I worked a marina for a summer. I can figure out a potato."

She gave me a smile. Small, real, from somewhere deeper than politeness.

"Alright," she said. "You're on potatoes." She looked at Liam. "You're on pie crust. Don't argue."

"I wasn't going to argue."

"You always argue about pie crust."

"Because I'm bad at pie crust."

"You're bad at it because you go too fast."

She got up and refilled her coffee, and the morning was moving, and the kitchen was warm, and the radio played something I didn't know, and soon I was standing at the counter peeling potatoes.

And I felt a sense of relief.

Not happiness. Just the relief of a house where nobody was performing. Where the counter had a chip in the tile and the butter softened on a plate and nobody had hired someone to section the grapefruit. The relief of not checking my hands. Of not choosing my sweater based on which room I was entering.

My whole life at Peninsula Point had been a production. Every dinner, every hallway. I'd been raised inside a machine that ran on appearance, and this was the exact opposite of everything I was learning to hate about my family.

This was real.

***

Ethan called later that morning.

I was up to my elbows in potato water. Liam was wrestling with pie crust at the counter, losing. Linda was doing four things at once.

My phone buzzed; I dried my hands quickly, picked it up and headed to the living room.

"Alex," Ethan's voice, warm and immediate. "Talk to me."

"Hey."

"Liam texted me last night. He didn't say much, but the word disowned was in there, and I've been climbing the walls. Are you okay?"

"I'm — " I looked at the kitchen. Liam with flour on his nose. Linda pulling the ham out to baste it, the entire room smelling of cloves and brown sugar. "I'm okay. I'm at Liam's. His mom's got me peeling potatoes."

"She's put you to work. I love this woman already."

"She's great."

"Tell me what happened."

I told him, and I refused to sign, and he cut me off. Ethan was quiet in that rare way that meant he was processing.

"You did the right thing… the brave thing." he said. "You know that, right?"

"It doesn't feel brave."