ADVERTISEMENT
Ethan set down his fork slowly. “Mom.
What’s he talking about?”
Ivy’s eyes darted around the table, looking for support that wasn’t coming. “I was protecting the family.”
“Protecting us from what?”
“From unhealthy meals!” Her voice rose, desperate. “She uses too much butter and too much salt.
Those old recipes aren’t good for growing children.”
I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. The casserole I’d made that morning was gone. The fruit salad was gone, too.
I turned back to the dining room.
Ethan’s face went red. “You’ve been throwing out her food? On purpose?”
“I was trying to help her learn better habits, son.”
“Or were you punishing me?”
Ivy stood still.
The truth hit me suddenly. “You hate that Ethan asks for my grandmother’s recipes. The ones I learned growing up.
The meals he requests over and over.”
Continue reading…
ADVERTISEMENT
