AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lucas nudged Carson and whispered, “Now I want to know what else your girlfriend paints.”
Olivia laughed nervously. Why did every dinner she have with Carson’s parents turn out horribly? “I just painted apples because I like them. As a normal fruit. Not for any other reason.”
Jennifer clicked her tongue against her teeth in a tutting manner. “That’s the voice of repression talking.”
Olivia’s gaze darted to Mrs. Clark to see if she was silently judging her for her sexual-desire-apple painting, but Mrs. Clark’s eyes were fixed on Jennifer. “I’m certain you’re wrong about the Garden of Eden story.” Her smile almost didn’t seem forced. “But then the public schools in the inner city aren’t as good as the ones in small towns, are they?”
Jace cleared his throat. “I don’t think you can call Pasadena the inner city, Mom.”
Mrs. Clark ignored him. “Now that I think about it, the Bible doesn’t even name what type of fruit was in the Garden of Eden, so it most likely wasn’t an apple.”
Lucas nodded. “I wouldn’t have left Eden for an apple. At a minimum, it had to be an orange. Those are really good.”
“I bet it was a cacao tree,” Elsie put in. “Chocolate probably caused the original sin.”
Mrs. Clark’s gaze was still on Jennifer. “Don’t feel bad about being mistaken, dear. I’m sure lots of people don’t know the story correctly, especially if you don’t go to church regularly.”
And that’s when Olivia remembered Carson’s warning that if Mrs. Clark didn’t like someone, she would passively aggressively point out their faults. Jace apparently also remembered this fact about his mother because he quickly changed the subject to the weather;Hotter than normal for this time of year, isn’t it?
Perhaps the awkwardness of the conversation would’ve been forgotten, but a few minutes later Mrs. Clark went to the oven to pull out the dessert she’d been warming there. She came back carrying a picture-perfect, homemade apple pie. She set the dish on the table. “We have several apple trees in our yard,” she announced as though daring someone to comment on that fact.
Silence descended on the table. Mrs. Clark cut pieces onto dessert plates and handed them around.
Lucas smiled broadly when he got his. “Apple pie is my favorite.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I guess that says something about me.”
His mother shot him a dark look.
Jace shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It says Mom makes great pie.” He was clearly trying to salvage the moment.
“I’ve always been a fan,” Carson agreed. He reached over and took Elsie’s plate. “I’m not sure you’re old enough to eat this. I should probably have yours.”
Elsie lifted her fork. “Give me back my pie or I will stab you.”
“Can’t,” Carson said. “You’re just a baby, and this is an adult dessert.”
Mr. Clark huffed an exaggerated breath. “Carson, give your sister back her pie.”
Carson made a show of sliding it back. “Okay,” he told Elsie, “but you’re my kid sister, and if any guy ever touches your apples, I’ll rip his limbs off.”
Mrs. Clark shut her eyes as though struggling for patience.
“It’s very good pie,” Jennifer said with forced cheerfulness. She at last had realized the mess she’d made of everything. “Delicious. I really like it.”
Mrs. Clark’s eyes flashed open, and she glared at Jennifer like she’d just admitted to trying to corrupt Jace.
Mr. Clark cleared his throat. “Yes, I married a very good cook.” This should’ve been a harmless statement, but still made Lucas snicker.
Olivia didn’t dare comment on the pie, even though it was really good. There were no safe comments at that point.
Later when Carson walked her to her car to say goodnight, he said, “So, I don’t think you have to worry about my parents liking Jennifer more than you.”
“I guess that was the silver lining of dinner. But as you said, it’s not a contest. They can dislike both of us.” Olivia glanced over her shoulder to make sure the two of them were still alone. “I can’t believe she accused me of repressed sexual desires in front of your parents.”
Carson put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. “It does give a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘An apple for the teacher.’”
“Stop being creepy. I gave that painting to my mother.”
He laughed and dimples dotted his cheeks. “Then you’re saying I shouldn’t pick a bag of apples to leave on your doorstep? After all, you’re the apple of my eye.” He was finding this all way too amusing.
