Cook
Pork chops in sour cream gravy. Fresh string beans. A bottle of sparkling cider.
She'd dug the good tablecloth out of the closet. Even folded the matching napkins into little huts on top of the plates.
It was way more than a Wednesday had ever seen at the Aquino household.
"Save room for dessert. I baked an apple pie."
"That's dad's favorite," Ricky said with a grin.
Noel looked across the table at Ricky; he was chowing down as usual, working on his second chop. After every bite Ricky's eyes would drift over to where Angela sat, dressed in a silk blouse and sharp miniskirt, matching suit jacket draped over the back of her chair. The young man wore a strange expression, as if he was having trouble recognizing the girl sharing his table.
Noel too took note of Angela's attire. Still sexy, but with a maturity that had up to now been lacking from the young woman. Her demeanor matched her outfit -- still the same bubbly eighteen-year-old's vocabulary, but smoothed by the certain calm comfort of someone older.
"What are you all dressed up for?" Noel asked.
Angela rattled off the summary of her day at breakneck speed. "I had to go to court today. At least, I *thought* I did. Turns out the hearing is October 9th, not September 10th. I guess I got the numbers turned around. I waited around for over two hours, waiting for them to call my name. I finally asked how much longer, that's when I found out I had the date wrong. They woulda let me sit there all day if I didn't ask! But something good came out of it. I found the recipe for the pork chops in one of the magazines in the lobby. So I thought, what the heck, my men deserve a good meal! It took forever at the grocery store, and then the car conked out on me on the way home, only finally it started again, and I've been cooking since I got home. So whaddya think?"
"You've never made this before?"
"Nope."
Noel daubed his napkin to his mouth before setting it on the table. "You really can cook."
"I told you!" Angela got up and started gathering up their dishes.
"I'm impressed."
"Me too!" Ricky chimed in. "Now how 'bout some of that pie!" He gave her a playful slap on the behind; she squeaked in surprise, nearly dropping the dishes.
Noel was stunned at his son's raucous behavior. And had he meant the double entendre?
Angela scolded the younger Aquino. "Ricky, careful! I don't want to get anything on this suit."
"You could have changed before dinner," Ricky moped.
"I told you, there simply wasn't time," she replied, busily rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher.
Noel jumped in to ease the tension. "Why don't you go get changed now, let me and Ricky clean up."
"Don't be silly. I'm almost done. You just relax, I'll get you both a slice of pie in a sec."
"Hey, can I have mine in the family room?" Ricky asked. "'Smallville' is starting in a few minutes."
Noel deferred to the cook. "Angela?" If she'd gone to all this trouble to have a nice dinner, he wasn't going to break it up prematurely.
"Sure, whatever. I think once I'm done in here I'll go take a nice hot bath and unwind a little."
"Aw, you're not gonna sit with me and watch 'Smallville'?"
"Nah, it's not really my thing."
Ricky looked disappointed. Noel got the impression it wasn't about the show.
"She's had a hectic day, Ricky."
Angela scooted over to the table, her heels click-clacking across the linoleum, short business skirt swishing, a plate of pie in each hand. Dipping gracefully at the knees, she set down both plates simultaneously, turning the plates with a slight flourish.
It was the same subtle panache move Noel's wife used to make when she served her man.
Noel sighed contentedly. "Thanks, Maggie."
The room froze. Each waited for the others to react, waiting for confirmation that they'd heard something wrong. Breath held.
"You're welcome," Angela finally said. There was a beat of silence, and then: "I'm gonna go get cleaned up."
Noel watched the girl fight hard to take a measured pace out of the room and not simply bolt like a frightened doe.