fries!” Mae hip-checked her daughter, still not wanting to touch her, and Madison fell to the floor dramatically, howling. “That hurt! Fries!” she said. “You said fries and chicken and I want fries and chicken and where is Grandma?”
Her shouts caught the attention of the cook, who started across the kitchen before cursing and turning back to the fryer, pulling out the chicken, plating it quickly, and grabbing two of the paper orders off the row in front of him.
Another woman Mae didn’t recognize leaned into the pass-through window from behind the counter. Sabrina had disappeared from view. “Can I help you?” the woman asked, but the man spoke over her, sliding the plated chicken through the window as he did.
“Door’s on the other side,” he said over his shoulder. “This is the kitchen. Go around.”
“I know this is the kitchen,” snapped Mae. “I know where the door is, too. I’m looking for my mother—Barbara. Barbara!” she repeated loudly, knowing it was hard to hear over the fryer but suspecting the man was ignoring her anyway. Who the hell did he think he was—and who was he, anyway? “My mother! Barbara! Is she here?” Mae cast a frantic look toward the door that separated the kitchen from the dining room. Had Sabrina heard her?
“You must be Mae, then,” the cook said, turning fully around. His expression was hard to read, but Mae thought he looked amused. “Finally. Your mom stuck around a long time waiting for you before she went home.” He put out a hand. “Andy.”
Damn him, he had been messing with her. He knew who she was. And Barbara went home? What the hell? Before Mae could react, Sabrina Skelly appeared in the door that connected the kitchen to the counter area, her face a perfect expression of delight and excitement, trailed by the inevitable camera. “Mae! Mae Moore!” She rushed forward, clearly ready to embrace Mae, and Mae frantically backed away from them both, holding up her hands.
“I really can’t,” she said. She pointed at her son, and she could see from Sabrina’s face that the smell was telling its tale.
Andy turned to Sabrina and her camera, grinning cheerfully. “Kid shit his pants,” he said, and Sabrina cast the dismayed look of the childless at Ryder while Mae nodded, cursing the choice to leave Jessa at the Travelodge. She would have paid any amount of money to hand Ryder off and greet Sabrina gracefully, setting a professional tone for the next few days.
“We just need to clean up a little,” Mae said. The camera turned to her, and she lowered her hands and tried to look as if this were just a little incident, instead of the full-blown stinker that was painfully obvious to everyone present. Ryder, though, had other plans. “We got to clean off the POOP,” he declared, and started to march himself into the kitchen.
Mae gave in and picked him up, holding him almost as though there was nothing wrong. “You got it,” she said, smiling pleasantly at the camera. She should laugh; she knew she should. Just another mom dealing with the mess. But Mae Moore didn’t do mess, and the probably forced-looking smile was all she could manage. “Y’all excuse us, okay?” Oh God. Y’all? What was she doing? She had to get away.
Andy pointed to Madison. “She better wait out here,” he said. “The office is small.”
“I know it’s small,” Mae started, her frustration with him and with the whole situation creeping into her voice again, and she thought she saw him grin. “Come on, Madison.” Anything to get away from Sabrina and the camera.
“Suit yourself, then,” he said. “Or I’ve got French fries.” He shook a few onto a plate and held them out to Madison, who looked up at her mother. Too annoyed to be grateful for the favor, she shrugged.
“Go ahead, honey,” she said. “Ryder and I will be a while.”
“I want fries!”
“I’ll save you some, Rydie,” said Madison, looking questioningly at Andy, who nodded. “You go with Mommy.”
Sabrina knelt down to Madison, and Mae had to let whatever exchange was going to happen, happen. Even Sabrina—and Mae had known her and known of her for years, and she wouldn’t put much past her—wouldn’t mess too much with a six-year-old without her parents around. Especially with the camera there, Mae couldn’t hold off on changing a minute longer. They did look like good French fries, she noticed. When she’d last worked in the kitchen, they’d been frozen, but