always made sure her living space was not only tidy, but pretty as well.
I went back to the kitchen and found my dad, still whistling while he cooked breakfast. Bacon sizzled in a pan and there was a plate of pancakes on the counter. He cracked an egg into another pan.
“Morning,” I said, half wondering who this man was and what he’d done with my father. I’d been living here for a month and I’d never seen him cook, beyond reheating things or warming up packaged food.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Morning. Hungry?”
“I was going to meet Ginny for breakfast soon, but I could eat here and just order coffee.”
“Whatever works for you. It’ll be ready in a few more minutes. There’s coffee made if you want a cup now.”
“Thanks.” I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table. “What’s the occasion? Or did you just feel like having a big breakfast?”
“Bacon sounded good.” He paused to flip an egg. “I figured if I was going to make bacon, I might as well do breakfast right.”
A vague memory flitted through my mind, wafting in on the smell of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup. A memory of this very kitchen, and me at this table. My legs swinging, too short to reach the floor, a plate of pancakes in front of me. Dad cooking breakfast for the three of us while Mom sat at the table with me, sipping coffee.
“You used to make us breakfast sometimes, didn’t you?”
“He did,” Mom said, appearing in the doorway. She wore a silky floral kimono that belted at the waist. Her face was fresh and makeup-free, her hair down, but even without all her usual styling, she looked beautiful. “For a while, it was our Saturday morning tradition.”
“Yes, it was,” Dad said without turning around.
Was it just me, or was he suddenly standing up straighter? Now that I really looked at him, I noticed his shirt was neatly tucked in. And had he gotten a haircut?
Mom got herself a cup of coffee and sat next to me. She flicked quick glances at Dad while she sipped.
This whole situation was so weird. I’d never been the kid who wanted to Parent Trap her parents back together. I’d always wondered how they’d ever gotten together in the first place. Growing up, it had felt like they got along for my sake, but a simmering tension had remained between them. Once in a while, that tension had snapped, and I’d watched whatever frustrations they still carried boil over.
Mom had been here for about a week and a half, and that tension hadn’t gone anywhere. If anything, it seemed to grow by the day. So far, Dad had mostly grumbled about her presence, muttering to himself when he couldn’t find things after her kitchen reorganization or shaking his head at the furniture decorating the other rooms. Mom had been her usual self, cheerfully doing what she wanted despite my dad’s grumbling, all while casting him side-eye glances when he wasn’t looking.
But how long before the pressure cooker burst and one or both of them snapped?
“I think I remember that,” I said, hoping to keep the conversation on happy things. “I don’t have a lot of memories of living here, but I do remember pancake breakfasts.”
Dad brought over a plate with bacon, two eggs, and a stack of three small pancakes dripping with butter and syrup. He slid it in front of me with a grin. “Pancakes and bacon were your favorite. Hope they’re good.”
“It all looks amazing. Smells good too.”
“Caroline?” he asked.
“Sure, why not? See, aren’t you glad I fixed your kitchen? It’s so much easier to cook in here.”
Dad narrowed his eyes at her and went back to the stove without responding. I kind of wondered if that meant he agreed with her but didn’t want to admit it.
“The Saturday breakfast tradition started before you were born,” Mom said. “We used to meet our friends at a diner on Saturday mornings. We all would have been out late the night before and we’d shuffle in, tired or maybe a little hungover. After coffee and a big breakfast, we’d perk up. But the diner went out of business and there wasn’t another good breakfast place in town at the time.”
“The Copper Kettle was open back then, but we didn’t go there,” Dad said.
“That’s right,” Mom said, her eyes unfocused. “Of course we didn’t go there. That was the Haven diner. In any case, with our