The Chicken Sisters - K.J. Dell'Antonia Page 0,134

at least, I hated the hours and the travel. And now you seem to have lined up another job for me anyway, so it’s a good thing all around.” He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Right?”

Amanda had a feeling Mae had not been fully ready to have her dreams granted quite so quickly. She got it, too—Amanda might not be as practical as her sister, but she knew how Mae felt about regular paychecks and health insurance and benefits. They both knew what it was like to do without.

Mae didn’t answer Jay.

“You really know what you’re doing, then,” Nancy said to Jay. “You could do this.”

“I’ve helped merge everything from massive chains to two tiny glamorous island hotels whose chefs hated each other, so yes. I could. If I wanted to.” He looked at Mae, but she was staring down at the ground, silent.

“You’re the one who says we don’t have time to think about it,” said Nancy. “Would you want to? Would Barbara?”

“I can’t speak for Barbara, but I’m more of a leaper than a thinker,” said Jay. “It’s the thing Mae and I both have in common. You would think she would want to think things through, with a bunch of flow charts or something, but she doesn’t, she wants to do things. And so do I. So—”

He was grinning, and although Amanda held her breath, she knew what he was going to say.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Probably. I’m probably in.”

Kenneth whacked Jay on the shoulder. “Come on, man,” he said. “Free coffee.”

“For life?”

“A year, maybe. Mae drinks a lot of coffee. She’ll put us out of business.”

“Let me just make Mae sweat a little, okay? Probably. You’ll have to settle for that,” Jay said.

“Then me, too, probably,” Nancy said. “But, Mae, you’ve got a job ahead convincing your mother.” She got up. “I hate to leave you all with that kitchen,” she said, “but I need to get to Frannie’s. Amanda?”

Amanda was still looking at Mae. Her sister was really upset, she could tell. Her frozen expression wasn’t her thinking; it was her holding everything back. She eyed Jay. Did he know it? She couldn’t tell, but she didn’t want to just leave them like that. “Uh, Mae?”

“Yeah?” Mae didn’t turn her head.

“Should I come with you to talk to Mom?”

At that, Mae did turn to her, but her face was still and even pale. “No,” she said slowly, and took a tiny breath in, as if she was scared to do more. “I think probably not,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Call me, then, after? After you all talk?”

Mae smiled a little, and Amanda felt lighter. It was just Jay quitting, but that had to be a good thing. Mae just wasn’t seeing it, for whatever reason. “Everything else is fitting right into your plans, right?” She looked hard toward Jay, willing her sister to see how great this was, and saw him looking at her, and blushed. Okay, she was not subtle.

“Yeah. I guess. I’ll call you.” Mae stared down at the ground again, and after a minute, Amanda followed Nancy off the porch. Mae would be okay. And Barbara had to see that this would work. She just had to.

What Amanda needed now was a little time to take all this in, but Gus was standing at the edge of the yard, holding his phone, and one look at him told Amanda that he was waiting for her—and that something was wrong. When they reached him, Nancy patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all going to be okay,” she said. “Really. We’re just figuring some stuff out.”

Gus looked up at the group still sitting around outside of Barbara’s house and nodded. “Yeah, okay—I mean, that’s not what—Mom, can I talk to you?”

Amanda gave Nancy a worried look but nodded, and Nancy kept going, on to the car, probably, but that was fine; Amanda’s car was here from this morning, which seemed like a lifetime ago. Right now, Gus’s expression had her a little panicked. “What? Is it Mom? Are you guys okay?”

“It’s not Grandma, Mom, she’s fine, she knows where I went. It’s just—I did something. And I think you’re going to be mad at me.”

Amanda looked at her son more closely. He looked guilty, yes, but also maybe pleased. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be that bad. And compared to the last few days—

“Spill it, Gus. If it’s worse than saying I stole a recipe or that we serve frozen biscuits,