Joyce, having heard about the impending snowstorm, had stockpiled a ton of food in the camper, and Bruce had helped her unload it all earlier while Sharon and Eric took everyone’s bags to their rooms. So, when it came to supper time, Joyce set out cooking an extraordinary amount of food. Carrie was more than happy to help. She hadn’t had a chance to cook like that since she’d lived at home with her parents. On Christmas, they’d have a big, family dinner with her aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents. She and her mother would spend all day in the kitchen. She could still remember the sting of onions in her eyes and the smell of turkey in the oven as she helped her mother prepare supper.
As Joyce pivoted between the island and the counter, just like her own mother had, Carrie couldn’t help but feel excited. She was with people like her, she was happy. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it drained out of her and an emptiness took over. Even though she was enjoying herself, none of this was hers in any way, and it hit home that she didn’t have children of her own sleeping upstairs or a husband to share the evening with. This family barely knew her. She didn’t have a home where she could entertain her own parents, and although they’d been fine with having her away this Christmas, she suddenly missed them terribly.
A huge dish of bubbling macaroni and cheese baking in the oven sent a savory wave around the kitchen as they prepared the ingredients for the Brunswick stew. The garlic and onions were already in the pan with the butter, their flavors mixing in the air with the cheese.
“When the timer goes off, Carrie, pull out the mac and cheese so we can get that cornbread cooking,” Joyce said, her accent seeping out as thick as molasses, the more relaxed she became. She added the ingredients to the pot she’d pulled from Adam’s cabinet. It looked like it had never been used. Despite her feelings of loneliness, Carrie was relaxed. In fact, this was the most comfortable that she could remember being in a long time. These people spoke her language: they played with the children, they enjoyed each other’s company, and they liked good food. Cooking gave her something to do while she enjoyed these strangers. As she watched them all sitting at that giant table that had been so quiet with just her and Adam, she wondered why he’d only taken four days off.
Sharon set down a run of six cards and looked over at Eric under her lashes. “Top that,” she challenged him quietly.
“Hold on,” Bruce said. “I’ve got two hands here. I’m playing for Carrie while she helps Joyce. And Carrie has three sevens.” He set them down, and winked in her direction.
“Thank you,” Carrie said, smiling from across the kitchen, adding a little more cayenne to the Brunswick stew at Joyce’s suggestion. The timer went off, and with mitted hands, she pulled out the macaroni and cheese casserole. It had a brown crust at the edges just like her mother’s had. She set it on a mat on the island in the center of the kitchen and then put the cornbread in the oven.
Sharon had clicked on the light outside on the deck—an enormous wooden structure with levels and built-in seating. Carrie could only imagine the parties that Adam could have there in warmer weather. If he took the time. He’d made her feel awful at the tree lot, and she couldn’t get that out of her head, but there were other moments over the last two days when he’d been great. She was torn between wanting to understand him and wanting to yell at him. It was awfully early on, she decided, to have emotions this strong about him. She worried that by the end of her stay she’d either be head over heels or driving herself crazy with irritation.
“Carrie,” Walter said. “I’m sure there’s no shortage of beer in this house. Do you know where Adam keeps it? Bruce said he didn’t see any in the fridge.”
“He stores it in the garage. I’ll just go and get some. How many?” She looked around the room at the show of hands. There were four. After she’d offered, Carrie worried: she had no idea if she was even allowed to take beers from his refrigerator in the garage. She’d never had the need before. Already, his family had made her feel so at ease that she’d just offered as if it were her house. She wondered if she should send him a quick text just to ask.
As she opened the door to the garage, she knocked into Adam, nearly toppling them both over. “Oh!” she said in surprise as Adam grabbed onto her to steady them both. “Hi,” she said, her face only inches from his. She wriggled herself upright. The time she’d spent getting to know Adam’s family made him look a little different to her tonight. It was almost as if she could see the boy that he may have been, envision him in the big yard in North Carolina where he’d played as a child. She hadn’t realized until she’d met his family that his upbringing and hers were probably quite similar. They’d just turned into completely different adults. Seeing him sent a flutter through her stomach, and she fought with everything she had not to feel it. She knew she shouldn’t be feeling it—it was silly, childish. She barely knew him.