Good Enough to Eat by Stacey Ballis Read Free Book Online Page B

and with joy.”
    “Thanks, Carey. I needed to hear it for the millionth time.”
    “It’s what I’m here for.”
    “I’ll talk to you at our usual time on Thursday.”
    “Unless you need me before then . . .”
    “I’ll be okay. Have a good night.”
    “Good night, sweetie. I’m proud of you.”
    My stomach gurgles menacingly as I hang up the phone. I go to the computer and check my e-mail. There is a note from Gillian.
    Hey, Mel.
     
     
    Been crazy with work, but it is paying off. They made me a partner! Of course it is going to mean more travel and responsibility, so I’ll have to postpone my visit this spring. Maybe I’ll be able to get there in the fall. I know you understand, especially since I was just there a couple months ago.
     
     
    Hope the store is good, got to run!
     
     
    Cheers,
    G
    Gilly. I’m so proud of her. And so disappointed that she isn’t coming to visit. She keeps offering to fly me in to visit her in London, but I’m too mortified at not being able to afford the trip myself, and too scared to leave the store for any length of time. We were never as close when she got older as we were when we had our secret mac-and-cheese club. In high school she got popular, and I got fatter. I went away for college, and when I came back for law school, we barely knew each other. Her consistent dislike of Andrew solidified the distance between us for a long time, and we only really reconnected when Mom got sick, getting to know each other again and finding reasons to bond. By the time Mom died, things were pretty good between us, but she and Andrew never really got along, so we kept our tentative newfound relationship to lunches or Sunday brunches. When she got transferred to London, we began communicating almost entirely through e-mail. When Andrew and I split, she flew in to help me move, which was probably the nicest thing she ever did for me. Our first night in my new condo, surrounded by the disaster of my circumstances, she made a family-size box of macaroni and cheese, and we ate it sitting on the floor, in the middle of my messy life.
    Gilly—
     
     
    Honey, I’m so proud of you! I know how hard you’ve worked for that partnership, and I know that you deserve it. I totally understand about the visit, and while I’m of course disappointed, I’m behind you. Go get ’em! Come when you can, I miss you, kiddo. When you get a chance, give me a call to tell me all the details. I want to hear all about it. And everything else. Things here are fine, the store is doing pretty well, and my place is finally feeling like home. You won’t recognize it when you come! If I wasn’t such an idiot I would send you pics but I haven’t figured out how to get them out of my new digital camera and into my computer yet. ☺
     
     
    Love you, hope to talk to you soon.
Mel
    I get out my notebook and begin planning tomorrow. Because no matter what happens, whether we are ready for it or not, there is always tomorrow.

MEAT LOAF

    My paternal grandmother was an indifferent cook. Not bad, the food tasted good and was nutritious, but was prepared with little joy, and there was no passion in the experience for her. She cooked because it was her responsibility to do so, because people needed feeding. She had a repertoire of exactly seven regular meals—one for every day of the week—one fancy meal for special occasions, and the basic holiday staples. Thursday night was meat loaf night, and the night Gilly and I spent with her and my grandfather to give my mom a night off. Even though she didn’t love to cook, and wasn’t enormously creative when she did, she did make an effort on those nights, altering the meat loaf week to week to surprise us. Sometimes with hard-boiled eggs or a hot dog hidden in the middle, a little circular bit of excitement in the center of each slice. Sometimes with a glaze of ketchup and Worcestershire sauce, or a crisp crust of Dijon and bread crumbs. The rest of the meal never