Over in the corner, Alice surveyed me in her usual enigmatic fashion.
Buck up, Daisy. Other people in the world have real problems. You still have your health, your friends, your wonderful husband.
I stared at her. “You’re right, as always. And don’t worry. You’ll be coming with me.”
I made sure to lock the deadbolt when I left for the day and headed down Main Street toward home.
When I opened the door to our Greek Revival, I stood for a moment, imagining that Joe was cooking dinner for me, like in the good old days before he became obsessed with his miniatures. What could I smell? Boeuf bourguignon or some hot buttered crab, perchance?
Nothing. Just the usual woody, antique smell of a house that was over a hundred and fifty years old.
Jasper scampered up to me and stuck his wet nose into my hand.
“Oh, yes, and the best part when I’m counting my blessings? My dog.” I fell to my knees and threw my arms around him. He blew a warm breath into my ear and pressed his head against my shoulder. Jasper gave the best hugs.
Next, I found Joe in the basement and gave him the sad news.
“Don’t worry, Daisy. You should see all the orders I have to fill. I’ll make plenty of money to keep us afloat.”
“That’s not really the point, Joe.”
He smiled at me above the whine of the table saw.
I trailed up the stairs into the kitchen, fed Jasper, and then looked in the fridge, hoping against hope for some tasty leftovers. There was a carton of eggs, a fruit drawer with two wizened apples in it, some vegetables, a gallon of milk, and a few condiments.
“There’s nothing to eat in here.”
I smiled wryly at the echo of my words. I sounded like Sarah in her teenage years.
Well, why don’t you make something, Daisy Buchanan?
I pulled out a cookbook for the first time in a long time, searching for comfort food. I found a recipe I remembered from years ago, when Joe and I were first married and counting pennies. After some scrounging around, I found a cabbage in the fridge, a packet of chicken-apple sausage in the freezer, and a couple of cans of white beans in the pantry.
“Yes, Jasper, we can do it! We have the technology!”
He gave me a high five with his paw, which he considered merited a treat. I slipped him a dog biscuit, washed my hands, and set to work.
Half an hour later, I was stirring a big pot of nourishing soup. I ladled out a bowl for Joe and carried it on a tray down to the basement, where he was engrossed in constructing an Empire chest of drawers. He murmured his thanks, although the appetizing smell didn’t even make him look up. As I walked back upstairs, I wondered if he would eat it before it got cold. I had an even stronger sense of what Birch Kunes must have gone through.
I’d saved a piece of the cooked chicken-apple sausage for Jasper, who devoured it, seemingly without the need to chew first. I ate a cup of the soup myself, and then put the rest into several plastic containers and stuck them in the fridge.
As I was wiping down the counter, a drop of liquid fell on my head. I looked up to see that it wasn’t just a small wet circle anymore. It was a large patch that was ballooning out and threatening to burst.
“Joe!” I ran to the top of the basement steps and yelled. There was no reaction. Gritting my teeth, I ran all the way down. “Damn it, Joe, we have a situation. Can you please pay attention for one second?”
He gazed up at me. “Yeah?” He hadn’t eaten any of the soup.