Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,52
it’s only famous because of how much no one ever wants to eat it.”
“It’s very healthy and I put some quinoa in it this time so I think it will be better.”
“Nothing can make it better.”
Fred and her mother disappear into the kitchen, Scarlett and I trailing behind them. “I just love coming over here. They are as funny as all get out. I wish they were my parents.”
I don’t have a chance to talk to her more because Larry, Fred’s dad, comes into the kitchen to greet us.
“Welcome back. I’m glad you guys could make it.” He shakes my hand and hugs Scarlett before standing next to his daughter where she’s leaning against the counter. “You got everything from that jackhole’s apartment?”
“Yes, Dad.” Fred sighs.
Her dad, I discovered earlier, works at Columbia University and he fits the image of exactly what I would expect of a tenured professor. Tall and lean, with salt-and-pepper hair, wire rimmed glasses that are fighting with bushy grey eyebrows, and a tweed jacket.
“Were you reading about politics again?” Helen asks him.
“Actually, I was reading about FRBs that are repeating in a consistent pattern.”
“FRBs?” Scarlett asks.
Larry launches into a discussion about fast radio bursts, millisecond-long bursts of radio waves from space, and how normally when they repeat it’s in a cluster or sporadic, but for over a year the same pattern has been recurring every 16.35 days.
“Sounds like aliens,” Fred declares as soon as he’s done explaining the finding.
“Don’t make me hurt you.” He points at her in a serious tone and Fred bursts out laughing.
“Come eat dinner, and no arguing about aliens over my famous chili.” Helen ushers us into the dining room.
We sit around the comfortably appointed dining room, where the walls are a cheery yellow and the table is a chunky, dark wood. The discussion continues while Helen dumps chili into each of our bowls. Larry explains to the rest of us about neutron stars and what an OB-type star binary system is and how they are the likely culprit for the radio wave signals.
It doesn’t stop Fred from teasing him about aliens while Helen laughs loudly.
“Did you want some cheese for your chili?” Helen asks me.
“Don’t do it,” Fred groans. “It’s not real cheese.”
“It’s plant-based. I make it with oat and spices.” Helen’s smile is sunny and innocent.
“It tastes nothing like cheese,” Fred grumbles.
“Well, it’s not supposed to.”
“Then why do you call it cheese?”
“Oh, you know, just for fun.” Helen laughs again at Fred’s disgusted expression. “Oh, stop being cranky. I know you’re upset about Jack, but honey, you dodged a bullet.”
“That boy was a self-absorbed jackhole,” Larry mutters.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Fred stirs her chili and staring down into it like it can erase the conversation.
“Fine,” Larry says, then he turns to me. “So, Guy. What do you do?”
“Dad!” Fred gapes at him.
He lifts his bushy brows in confusion. “What?”
“This is Guy Chapman.” Fred lifts an open palm in his direction, like she’s Vanna White and I’m a row of lighted letters.
Larry stares at Fred for a second and then flicks his gaze to me, and then back at Fred, expression blank. “Am I supposed to know something here?”
I can’t help but smile at all of them. In the restaurant business and maybe among reality show viewers, people know who I am. But to everyone else, I’m nobody, and I’m okay with that. I’m actually very relieved. “You aren’t supposed to know anything,” I tell Larry.
But Fred is undeterred. “He’s a chef,” she explains.
“Oh, okay. That’s nice, son,” Larry smiles at me encouragingly.
Scarlett strangles back laughter.
“Oh, that’s just wonderful. Scarlett is a great chef, too.” Helen clasps her hands in front of her. “I’m so glad true professionals can try my chili.” She gives Fred a pointed look. “I’m sure it’s going to be good this time.”
It isn’t, but I eat it anyway. “It’s very…interesting. The flavors are unique.”
I can’t tell her the full, unadulterated truth. She’s beaming at me and I can’t hijack her happiness.
“See, I told you it was good. Scarlett, what do you think?”
Scarlett takes a delicate bite and nods solemnly. “I can honestly say I’ve never had anything quite like it.”
Fred snorts. “Mom, they both agree it stinks, they’re just saying it in a nice way.”
“You’ve had a rough couple of days, so I won’t give any credence to your words,” she says primly.
After dinner, Helen insists we spend time with Fred while she handles the clean-up.