Page 29 of The Starfish Sisters

“Hot chocolate!” Jasmine says.

“Save that for later,” I say. “You don’t want to get too hyped on sugar.”

I turn my attention to the menu. My stomach growls, and a yawn overtakes me. “I’m going to need a nap when I get back.”

A man a few booths down is glowering in our direction, and I glare back:What’s your problem?Then turn my attention to the menu.

“Not me,” Jasmine says. “Naps are for babies.”

“You can have quiet time, then,” I say. “In your nest of animals.”

She giggles.

The waitress returns with coffee for all the adults and milk for Jasmine. We order full breakfasts, even Suze. “The fresh air,” she says to me with a half grin.

I return it, warmed. It was shorthand during the pandemic times, when we ate ourselves silly—pancakes and steaks and cakes, experimenting like we were teenagers again. I invented a white cake withraspberry filling that is still in rotation, and she focused on savory pies. “Good food,” I say. She was grieving Dmitri, and the cooking was a way to give her something to do, the first cooking she’d done in decades. It had been good for all of us to have her here, for me, for Jasmine, for Beryl. We had our own little family of women. “That cheese leek pie you made is still one of my favorite foods of all time.”

She closes her eyes, making a soft sound. “So good.” Discarding her hat, she says, “Did you keep all those recipes?”

“Of course.” To Ben, I explain, “We were here during the pandemic and cooked a ton.”

“Sounds good.”

“Where did you spend quarantine, Ben?” Suze asks before I can shake my head.

“Africa,” he answers, erecting a wall of protection. What I know is that his wife died during that time. I don’t think it was COVID, but I haven’t asked. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Suze nods. “I kinda miss some of those days. It was so much less pressure.”

“Well, people died,” Ben says.

“Yes,” she says, looking at him directly.

I touch his hand. “Her partner was one of the early casualties.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right.” She shakes her hair from her face. “I also liked some parts of the quarantine.”

“I liked it, too,” Jasmine says. “I got to come here and Nana took care of me because my mom had to work from home and I got on her nerves.”

Suze leans against Jasmine for a moment. “It was great to all be together, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Remember that pie we made with potato chips on top?”

“I do!”

“Amma loved that one,” I say, pierced suddenly with missing her. Those last few years she was frail and needed help moving around, butshe was still mostly herself and mostly loved to eat. We were very careful to be sure she wasn’t infected with the virus, and she never was.

“Like anything else,” I say, “it was a mixed bag. Bad for some people, good for others.”

A shine brightens Suze’s aqua eyes. “Yeah.” She brushes hair from her face, and I’m glad to see her relaxing in a public place. It’s her hometown and with her oldest friend, but it’s progress.

Jasmine says, “Why can’t I come back now?”

“You’re here now,” I say.

“No, when my mom goes to London. Why can’t I stay here with you like I did then?”