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The emergencies only ever happened when Ethan was at work.
Ivy let herself in while I was picking Noah up from kindergarten.
“Noticed the kitchen needed organizing.”
That’s when my meals started vanishing. I’d make dinner the night before and pack it carefully for leftovers. The following afternoon, I’d open the fridge to find empty space where the containers had been.
“Oh, that?” Ivy would say, her hands clasped like she was confessing a minor sin.
“It didn’t look right to me. I didn’t want Noah to get sick.”
The first time, I thought maybe I’d missed something.
But then it happened again. And again.
Shepherd’s pie I’d made Sunday night.
Salmon I’d baked on Monday evening. The lasagna Ethan specifically requested for Tuesday. All gone by Wednesday morning.
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