Chapter Sixty-Four
Michaela
Matthew ignored us. One bit of grace tonight.
Lincoln placed the plastic bag on my table, then lifted a glass dish out, sealed with a plastic lid. He popped the top off and the room was suddenly flooded with the scent of ooey-gooey cheeses. He smiled with pride at my moan of appreciation.
“That smells heavenly,” I murmured.
“Is that dinner?” came from the sofa. Leave it to a nine-year-old’s stomach.
“Yes. I’ll get you a bowl.” I opened our dishes cabinet and reached for three.
Then dug a serving spoon out of one drawer and three forks from the other.
But Lincoln was already digging into the dish with a spatula I didn’t see in the bag.
“Is that enough?” he whispered.
“Yeah.” I slid the fork into the noodles and carried Matthew’s portion to him.
“Thank
