Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Fifteen minutes later, Susan came downstairs.
Already dressed for the deck.
White cover-up.
Sandals.
Sunglasses.
Hair perfect.
She walked straight to the coffee maker.
No good morning.
Nothing.
The coffee maker was empty.
Cold.
Clean.
Susan opened one cabinet.
Then another.
Then another.
“Is the coffee not on?”
Mom’s hand automatically lifted from her lap.
Toward the coffee maker.
I gently touched her wrist.
She stopped.
Susan turned.
Saw Mom sitting at the table.
Doing absolutely nothing.
“Oh.”
She looked genuinely confused.
Then she noticed the board.
She read it.
Then read it again.
Then laughed.
“What is this?”
“Weekend jobs.”
“I can see that.”
She tilted her head.
“I’m breakfast?”
“You’re breakfast.”
Her smile faded.
“You’re serious?”
“Very.”
She stared at me.
“Your mother invited us here.”
Before I could respond, Daniel came downstairs.
T-shirt.
Pajama pants.
Hair everywhere.
He stopped at the bottom step.
Read the board.
Looked at me.
Then looked at his name.
Daniel: breakfast cleanup.
Susan turned toward him.
“Apparently, I’m making breakfast.”
She said it like she expected him to laugh.
He hesitated for half a second.
Then said,
“Okay.”
Susan stared at him.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel pointed toward the board.
“I’ll clean afterward.”
Susan folded her arms.
“When people stay at my house, I don’t hand them a chore list.”
At that moment, Richard came downstairs wearing his fishing hat and a T-shirt that said WORLD’S OKAYEST GOLFER.
Daniel looked at his mother.
“No, Mom. You don’t.”
He paused.
“Because Dad does the grocery shopping at your house. I usually make breakfast when I’m there. And everybody clears the table after dinner.”
Then he added,
“Everybody except you.”
Susan turned toward Richard.
Richard looked as though he desperately wanted to walk back upstairs.
He shrugged.
“I do usually shop.”
“That isn’t the point, Richard.”
But it was exactly the point.
Susan loved describing herself as a natural hostess.
And technically, she did host.
She selected menus.
Flowers.
Music.
Seating arrangements.
She directed everything beautifully.
Other people performed the work.
Richard shopped.
Daniel cooked.
Richard’s sister washed dishes.
Susan stood in the middle holding a wineglass and receiving compliments.
For a second, I saw that realization move through the kitchen.
Then Mom tried to rescue everyone.
“I can just make some eggs.”
She stood.
“No.”
I said it firmly.
Maybe too firmly.
Mom sat back down.
Susan gave me a look I knew she would remember for years.
I met it.
Then she opened the refrigerator.
“Fine.”
May you like
She stared inside.
“Where are the eggs?”
