“Apple crumble and custard,” she answered.
“Hurrah!” Sally cheered.
Carefully avoiding Prentice’s eyes, she set about getting the ingredients for the topping so that Sally could make the crunchy part.
And she silently prayed the night wouldn’t get any worse.
She should have prayed harder.
* * * * *
Dinner wasn’t that bad.
Though it wasn’t good either.
Actually, Isabella could just say it didn’t kill her.
Though it left her wanting to kill someone, namely Mikey.
The best part of the evening was that Prentice unearthed a bottle of wine.
The rest didn’t go so well.
The peas in the tuna casserole were smushed to mush but it didn’t taste bad mainly because Isabella added tons of cheese and cheese makes anything taste better, not to mention Sally’s crunchy bit concoction for the topping (with Isabella’s helping hand) was first-rate.
Mikey had decided the sad story part of the evening was over and regaled them with tales of Annie, Isabella and himself doing crazy things while at college.
Neither of these were the reasons why the dinner was murder plot worthy.
It went bad when Prentice queried, “When did you three find time to study?”
“We two got by on a wing and a prayer,” Mikey returned. “Bella burned the candle at both ends and graduated summa cum laude. She even made deals with her professors when she had to miss classes to be with Annie.”
Prentice’s eyes cut to her and Isabella’s eyes cut to her empty plate.
“That’s impressive,” Prentice said it like he meant it.
“That’s Bella,” Mikey remarked and then finished in a tone filled with acid, “No way she was going to take home anything but top marks to that father of hers.”
At that, Isabella’s head shot up and she actually felt her face grow pale. Then, quick as a flash, she threw her napkin on the table and stood up.
“Seconds for anyone?” she asked the table at large.
Jason and Sally both looked startled. As did Mikey.
Prentice’s eyes were locked on her and his brows had knitted.
“My first portion was fit for an elephant, so, no, I don’t want seconds,” Mikey replied.
“I want pudding!” Sally cried.
“I could take seconds,” Jason answered and Isabella could have kissed him.
“I’ll get the casserole,” she declared, bent to Sally and whispered, “Pudding in a second, sweetheart.” Then she walked as calmly as she could to the kitchen.
“You know her father, of course,” Prentice said as she moved away and his voice had a tinge of acid as well.
Isabella’s fingers curled into her palms tightly and briefly, the flash of pain not near enough to get her through this.