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Grant patted the chicken inside and out while I held it still, trying not to look too closely at the inside cavity.

“Are you squeamish?” Grant asked.

“A little.”

“But you’re a doctor,” Grant said.

“A pediatrician, not a surgeon.” I looked away as Grant lifted a wing.

Meanwhile, Elliot had passed bowls down the island containing softened butter, minced garlic, rosemary, thyme, salt, and pepper.

“Mix everything together with a fork,” Elliot said.

I tipped the garlic and herbs into the butter while Grant added salt and pepper. The spicy scent of the rosemary lifted up from the pan to give us yet another heavenly scent.

“Smells like a cozy Sunday,” I said.

Grant leaned closer to the bowl. “Yeah, it does.”

Once we had the butter mixed, Caspian held up his chicken again. “This next part requires a gentle hand. Slide your fingers beneath the skin over the breasts and loosen it without tearing.”

“We have to lift the skin up?” Rhett asked. “It seems kind of barbaric.”

“Have none of you ever cooked for yourselves?” June asked.

“Not really,” Rhett said.

“I have,” Holly said. “But usually I just heat something up when I get home after a long day.”

“Not one of those awful frozen dinners?” June asked.

“Yeah, one of those.” Holly grimaced. “Don’t judge.”

“Honey, you need a man to cook for,” June said. “That’ll get you in the kitchen.”

“How about a man who cooks for me?” Holly asked. “Can I have one of those?”

“You’ll see someday,” June said. “How heartwarming it is to cook for your family.”

I almost rolled my eyes but instead started shoving the butter mixture under the skin.

“Is it supposed to stretch like that?” I asked.

Caspian came over to observe. “Yes, that’s perfect. Spread about half the herb butter beneath the skin. The rest goes over the outside. We want as much of the bird covered as possible.”

Grant scooped up some of the mixture. Working together, we covered the chicken with our concoction.

“Now season the cavity and fill it with the lemon, onion, and herb sprigs,” Caspian said.

“My heart never warmed while I was at the stove,” my mother said, returning to the conversation about cooking for family. “Mostly I worried about not having enough to feed you kids.”

“And me,” Rhett said. “Carol always took care of me too, even though she didn’t have to.”

“You were one of mine,” Carol said. “Same as the others.”

“If not for you, I don’t know what would have happened to me.” Rhett looked over at Grant. “Carol told me, as long as I kept my grades up, I could come for supper any time. It was a great motivator.”

“I knew how smart you were,” Carol said. “I didn’t want you to waste it and end up like your father.”