Chapter 4 - A Table Built on Pain
By Saturday morning, Claire’s kitchen looked like a restaurant before opening night.
Bowls covered every counter. Pots steamed on the stove. Trays waited beside the oven. The refrigerator was packed so tightly that Claire had to rearrange it each time she needed an ingredient.
Donald entered at nine wearing swim shorts and sunglasses.
“People will arrive at three,” he said.
“I know.”
“Did you make the herb dip?”
“It’s in the refrigerator.”
“What about the lemon cake?”
“Cooling.”
“The cocktails?”
“I asked you to handle them.”
Donald frowned. “I’m setting up outside.”
Claire looked through the doors. Two folding tables stood near the pool. A speaker and three bags of ice sat beside them.
“You’ve been outside for twenty minutes.”
“I had to test the sound system.”
Claire’s crutch slipped slightly on the tile. She caught herself against the counter and cried out.
Donald glanced over but did not move toward her.
“You need to be more careful.”
Something inside Claire went still.
Not angry. Not yet.
Simply still.
She watched him walk outside and begin pouring himself a drink before noon.
At two, the first guests arrived. Donald greeted them at the front door while Claire remained in the kitchen. Each time a new person entered, he accepted compliments for the party.
“Claire went all out,” someone said.
Donald smiled. “She loves this stuff.”
By three-thirty, the backyard was crowded. Music played. Children jumped into the pool. Guests praised the food without noticing Claire leaning against the counter between trips.
Then Donald called from outside.
“Don’t forget the cocktails!”
Claire closed her eyes.
May you like
She lifted another platter.
That was the moment Margaret entered carrying a wrapped gift and saw the cast.
