heating the pig fat yet!” I shout after her. “You have to earn it!”
A second later, she’s bringing a confused Jennings after her. “I have to earn pig fat. I have to say, I don’t know how to do that. Does it involve singing or dancing because you might remember I’m not really that great at either of those,” he reminds me.
I don’t know who starts laughing first, but within seconds, Kevin’s back is against the fridge to hold him up and Maris is leaning against the doorjamb for support. And I put my hand down to brace myself, not realizing my arm’s about to brush against the heating electric skillet. “Ouch!” I yelp, jumping back.
Jennings drops the bag he’s holding and is at my side in seconds. “Let me see,” he urges as he cradles my arm against his chest.
“It’s nothing,” I stammer, despite the nagging ache beginning to spread.
“Kara, let me take a look. Please? If it’s something serious, I want to be able to get you help.” Jennings’s face is pale.
Despite the annoying throb which will likely linger for days, I want to reassure Jennings I’ll be fine and have him let me go. Him holding me is causing more issues than the annoying burn. “Fine.” There’s a part of me that wants to shake him off and just finish cooking dinner, but the blood pounding through my head is making me a little light-headed.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to look at it.
Dragging me over to the sink, Jennings bends my arm at the elbow. He winces. I panic a little. “Is it that bad?” I demand truculently.
His thumb rubs on the side of where the skin feels the most tender. “It just looks a little red. Maris, do you have any ice?”
“Righty-ho, Jennings,” she drawls. Soon a paper towel is wrapped around my arm, and a plastic bag filled with ice is put into Jennings’s hand.
He frowns before opening it a little and sucking the air out. “That’s better. It will mold better to your arm.”
“Jennings, it’s just a minor burn,” I protest, but he frowns down at me.
“You have to take care of these things, Kara,” he admonishes me. As if I don’t know as a mother.
I feel dizzy and it has nothing to do with the minor cooking mishap I’m so used to dealing with on my own. Hazarding a glance over at Maris, she answers my unanswered question with a swirl of her finger near her right ear. Great, she thinks Jennings is acting loco as well.
Dinner’s going to go great between Kevin deliberately baiting his father, Maris being Maris, and Jennings acting like a mother hen. I debate whether to start drinking now.
“I think it’s feeling better now,” I tell him gently, pulling my arm away. “But thank you. Normally, I’m the one handling all the scrapes and cuts around the house.”
For some reason, that makes Jennings look inordinately pleased. “Oh, crap.” He looks around. Dropping my arm as quickly as he picked it up, he darts over to where he dropped the bag he was holding. “I just hope nothing broke.”
“Broke?” I repeat.
Jennings produces a large greasy bag, which he hands to Kevin. “Those are from Pike’s Place. They’re usually better fresh.”
“Are those the little donuts?” Maris demands just as Kevin shoves his hand inside to investigate.
“They are,” Jennings confirms.
“Gimme.” Maris chases Kevin around the kitchen.
“No! It was Jennings’s gift to me!”
My only response is to take the ice pack, lift it across my eyes, and fervently wish I hadn’t been so generous to make this offer in the first place. “What did I do to deserve this?” I mutter aloud.
Jennings lets out a piercing whistle that causes me to drop the ice bag on the floor. He reaches down to hand it back to me. “Maris, Kevin, they’re to share. Later. Now, Kara, you asked me to bring a predinner snack; I hope this works.” Jennings produces a few bottles of wine, olives, a selection of cheese, and meat, and a loaf of crusty bread. “Is there something I can put this on?”
I can’t respond. I’m too busy gawking at the edible bouquet in front of me. “Is that brie?” I say almost dreamily.
Jennings confirms, “It is. Do you want some?”
“Gourmet cheese is a serious weakness for me, right up with seafood. Dean used to take me to this little specialty cheese store on the north side of Jacksonville for my birthday each year,” I reminisce. Then I turn