Sam felt a bit foolish standing there while the detective began arranging spices from the revolving spice rack on the counter next to the toaster. “I used to get takeout most nights after work because it seemed like a waste cooking for one person, but I can manage a reasonable home-cooked meal.”
Sam felt obligated to ask if he wanted her help, although she was afraid he’d take her up on it and invite her to assist him as his wife had. Instead, he said, “I never got in RoseAnn’s way, but I know my way around this place a lot better than you do. Sit down and relax. It won’t take long.”
Sam watched Montmart as he went about the dinner preparations. She sat in one of the kitchen chairs that she hoped hadn’t been his wife’s. After the detective finished slicing and dicing the side-dish vegeta
