For Whom the Minivan Rolls: An Aaron Tucker Mystery - By Jeffrey Cohen Page 0,9
the refrigerator, and in a bowl, mixed matzo meal, garlic salt, bread crumbs, and onion powder. I cut the chicken into strips, dredged the strips in the coating mixture, and made sure each piece was covered completely. Then I got a piece of aluminum foil, sprayed it with cooking spray, and put it on the top rack of the oven, which in a triumph of foresight, I had previously turned on. The chicken went onto the aluminum foil.
That would be for Leah. Ethan wouldn’t hear of a piece of chicken that wasn’t cooked at Burger King, so I decided against having the “you’ve-got-to-try-new-foods” argument tonight and stuck a couple of hot dogs in the broiler. So call the child welfare people. At least he eats.
Ethan, up in his room with his Nintendo, wouldn’t be coming down until called, but Leah wandered into the kitchen, bored with Nickelodeon and looking for someone to talk to.
“Daddy?” She always asked, like she wasn’t really sure it was me. “I can think of six words that rhyme with ‘bat.’”
“No kidding.” The water was boiling, so I got out a box of Ronzoni elbow macaroni—the biggest bang for your pasta buck—and dumped the entire box into the water. Well, okay, it was just the macaroni. The box I put in the recycling bin under the sink.
“Yeah. Cat, sat, fat, rat, hat and. . . um. . .”
I stirred the pasta in the hot water to keep it from becoming one huge ball of elbow, then put the top back on the pot and lowered the flame considerably.
“‘Mat’?” I asked, reflexively. Big mistake.
“Daddy! I’m supposed to do it myself!” Leah, although the most adorable child in the tri-state area, has developed a whine that could decalcify the spinal column of the strongest adult. I bent down to look her in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What word were you thinking of?”
“You used mine!” J’accuse!
Just then the front door opened with its customary creak and Abigail Stein walked into the house. Her legs still looked every bit as good after a long day.
“Mommy!” Leah yelled, and ran to the door. She did her best to take Abigail down in a flying tackle, and came damn close, but my wife managed to put down her briefcase and drape her raincoat over the railing on the stairs in time to avoid hitting the deck.
“Hello, my love,” she said to Leah. “How was your day?”
“Good.”
Abigail looked at me. “So. Trying to pick up women at Borough Hall again, huh?”
“I couldn’t resist, Honey. She had these great legs. . .” I walked over and gave her a welcome home kiss. Any excuse will do.
“Oh, knock it off. They’re not that good.”
Trust me, they are.
Chapter 6
The kids had eaten by the time Abby came downstairs. We long ago gave up on the idea of a nice family dinner during the week, since for Ethan, eating is merely a quick snack to be gulped down as quickly as possible between cartoon shows, and Abigail gets home on the late side for the kids, so there’s no sense in delaying dinner. They’re dangerous when hungry. On weekends, or the days when Abby gets home early enough, or when the kids have late snacks, we eat together.
I was cutting up salad stuff when Abigail walked into the kitchen, having changed into a pink T-shirt and gray sweatpants. She frowned, because I was cutting lettuce with a knife. I frowned, because the sweatpants prevented me from seeing her legs.
“You know you’re supposed to tear lettuce.” She had passed both children on the way in, and they were so deep into the umpteenth rerun of Hey Arnold that neither could be bothered to turn around and talk to her. The thrill of her homecoming, like every night, had been brief. For them.
“I don’t see how it tastes any different torn, and this is faster.” She did one of her “you’re-such-a-guy” eye-rolls, and reached under the counter for a pot, which she filled with water and put on the stove. I guess she didn’t know what she was going to cook yet, either.
“So this guy wants you to, what, find his wife?” Abby squeezed in between me and the countertop to reach up for some of what we call “the adult noodles.” The flavored pastas we keep in an upper cabinet. I didn’t make much of an effort to get out of her way, and she smiled. She knew I liked being squeezed next to her.