from his seat and holds the chair out at the head of the table for Tommy, who gratefully sits down.
“Can I help?” CeCe asks, standing up as well.
“Be my guest,” Jill says, handing over the tongs.
One by one, CeCe takes the chicken breasts from the container where they were marinating and lays them on the hot grill. The sizzle is music to my taste buds and my mouth waters in anticipation.
If CeCe learns how to grill, maybe we can become one of those families who barbecues instead of one of those families who relies on getting invited to other people’s barbecues.
“These are pretty thick,” CeCe says. “About six minutes per side?”
“That sounds right,” Jill says. “Want to set your timer?”
CeCe pulls her phone out of her pocket to set the timer. “I’ll go wash the tongs off since they touched raw chicken.”
“I’ll help,” Beau says, following CeCe inside.
Jill sits back down and takes a long sip of her wine, clearly happy to have a helper who shares her passion for cooking. “We’re going to miss having CeCe at the café once she has to start on the Seasiders set.”
“That didn’t work out,” Tommy says. His voice is low and serious, and he gives Jill and me a conversation-ending look. Not that I want to get into it all again, either.
“I’ll tell you later,” I tell Jill under my breath.
Last night was the first real fight we’ve had all summer thanks to this mess. I didn’t think it was possible to hate Monica any more than I did for what she did to Tommy, but it’s even more despicable to break a little girl’s heart. She never should have promised CeCe a role in the show before she knew if it was actually possible.
This was exactly why I didn’t want CeCe to get her heart set on acting—being a teenager is hard enough without all the rejection and scrutiny of your appearance. Of course, not getting the part had nothing to do with her talent or her looks. Tommy said the daughter of the executive producer’s neighbor had already claimed the role. But still.
I made Tommy tell her since it was his fault we were in this mess in the first place. She took it surprisingly well. Tommy thinks it’s because she’s more mature than I give her credit for, but I think there’s something else going on that’s captured her interest. Maybe she’s realizing she likes cooking even more than acting?
The alarm on CeCe’s phone goes off, startling Abigail, who’s had her head buried in her sketchbook since we sat down. CeCe comes back out with the clean tongs; her face looks a little flushed as she steps back in front of the grill.
She lifts the lid and turns each chicken breast over before resetting the timer. I’m impressed by the way she moves with such confidence; she really knows what she’s doing.
“Mom, do you want all this stuff outside?” Beau asks through the screen door.
“That would be great. Ab, will you get the plates and silverware?”
“Fine,” Abigail says, clearly not happy that she has to stop drawing to help her brother.
“I can get it,” Lou says, starting to stand up.
“Absolutely not.” Jill puts her hand on Lou’s shoulder, gently pushing her back down. “You’re off the clock tonight.”
Lou looks embarrassed but stays seated.
“Beau?” Jill calls out as if she’s suddenly remembering something. “Will you get the potatoes out of the oven and put them in the MacKenzie-Childs bowl? And the pita needs to be warmed up—never mind, I’m coming.”
I reach over and take Tommy’s hand in mine, startling him a bit. “Everything okay?” I ask, a little nervous to hear the answer.
“Never better,” he says. “Except for this whole cancer thing.”
I open my mouth to say something about how we talked about taking it easy on the jokes, but I stop myself. I don’t want to make Lou any more uncomfortable than she already seems, and I’m trying to understand that if this is the way Tommy needs to deal with his cancer, I have to try to let him.
Abigail is back outside before I can think of something pithy and light to say in response, so I force a smile and take a big sip of my wine.
“Who’s hungry?” Jill asks as she sets a black-and-white-checkered bowl filled with roasted potatoes on the table. I reach over to grab one, ignoring her warning that it’s too hot.
CeCe’s timer sounds again just as the last dish is being set